Kelly cheerleads her husband Chris—“follow your dreams, you’ll be a bestseller, everyone will love it.” It looks like love. Joe shows it can be control. The tell: she’d never talk to Joe that way, because she doesn’t think Joe needs managing.
“The fact that you’re taking care of him and you’re agreeing that he’s somewhat of a victim in this situation and that he needs some caretaking is ensuring his position as a victim.”
By treating Chris as a project to be improved and reassured, she silently agrees with his negative self-talk that he’s not good enough. Even the encouragement perpetuates the very victimhood it seems to soothe. Joe asks the unlocking question: “How would you talk to him if you knew he was good enough?” Answer: it doesn’t matter—you’d let him live his life.
The deeper layer is that the controlling caretaking sits on top of a feeling Kelly doesn’t want to feel. The real, open-hearted move isn’t to manage him but to own her own want: “I’d love you to put this book out, because I don’t want to be alone in this, and I feel alone in this.” Owning the want replaces the control—and stops casting him as a victim.
Related Concepts
- Caretaking manages others’ emotions to avoid your own
- Self-reliance blocks the ability to receive support
- Victimhood is believing the world punishes authenticity
- We manage others’ emotions to avoid our own
- Wanting to control others’ perception of you is absurd
- Surrender into love prevents self-betrayal
- Caretaking is a strategy to feel love through managing others’ happiness
- Caretaking prevents the other person from hitting bottom
- Loving the part in pain makes you happy in the moment