When We Look to Our Children for Our Own Self-Esteem
How children become extensions of their parents
“The child shall fulfill those wishful dreams of the parents which they never carried out,” Freud wrote. “The boy shall become a great man and a hero in his father's place. The girl shall marry a prince as a tardy compensation for her mother.”
Freud is writing about parents who treat their child as an extension of themselves to prop up their self-esteem. Psychoanalysts call this self-serving strategy a “narcissistic extension.” The child on the receiving end of a parent’s need for a narcissistic extension can feel deprived of the space and freedom to form a true sense of themselves.
Did your parents sometimes pressure you to be somebody that fed their identity more than yours? Did you get to write your life’s story, or were your parents occasional overzealous editors?
As a parent, do you ever feel overly invested in your child's achievements, or how they present themselves to the world?
Well, I said “yes” to all of these. I’m human—and so are my own parents! It’s human nature to wish the best for our children, and celebrate their successes. Some parents, though, live too vicariously through their children.
What is a Narcissistic Extension?
Here's a fictional example of a mother, Barbara, and her daughter, Emily. Barbara always wanted to attend a specific Ivy League college but was never accepted. She insisted that her daughter, Emily, attend that Ivy League school even though Emily wanted to attend the state university. Emily becomes Barbara's narcissistic extension, and attending her mom's longed-for Ivy League college bolsters Barbara's self-esteem—not Emily’s.
What do I mean by narcissistic? Here's a psychodynamic definition that is simple to understand:
The term "narcissistic" refers to people whose personalities are organized around maintaining their self-esteem by getting affirmation from outside themselves.
Narcissistic patterns, like most traits, live on a continuum. We all have some level of narcissism, and who doesn’t need acceptance and affirmation from others? But, the amount of effort we require from the outside world to feel good about ourselves determines our level of narcissism.
Nancy McWilliams, the psychoanalyst quoted above, once gave this simple definition of narcissism: how hard we need to work to feel good about ourselves = our level of narcissism.
So, while Barbara may not have a narcissistic personality disorder, in this instance, she's using Emily narcissistically to shore up her self-esteem rather than working internally to feel good about herself. Barbara, envisioning herself donning the Ivy League school’s colors, is giddy with anticipation!
But where does this leave Emily?
Being the Narcissistic Extension
Here's another tricky part of being the narcissistic extension. On some level, it feels good to comply with our parent's wishes. Emily may feel more valued by her mother and even like she’s the apple of her eye. But on a deeper level, Emily may feel sadness and anger that she had to "earn" her mother's approval by going to that Ivy League college.
Let's say that Emily refused to go to Ivy League college and instead went to the state school. Her mother's disappointment and depleted self-esteem might weigh on Emily. Whether she rebels against or complies with her mother's desire, Emily's focus is on her mother's experience of her, leaving little room for Emily to register her own experience.
If you relate to Emily's story, you may struggle to take authorship of your life for many reasons. First, if your experience and sense of self weren't honored as a child, you may find it difficult to honor it now. You may struggle to define who you are and not be able to write your own story.
Whether you needed to look a certain way, play a certain sport, or pursue a certain career, your innate need to write your own story wasn't met. This lack of authorship shows up in adulthood in many ways, such as a sense of emptiness, a need to please others at our own expense, or a need to keep others at bay to protect our autonomy.
How Do We Raise Authors?
Let’s face it, we all take satisfaction in our children's triumphs and share in their pain.
We want our kids to write their own stories. But, at the same time, we want to help them write their best story. We want to be that editor that gently nudges the author to narrate in their own voice, not ours. This requires paying attention to our internal experiences and reactions and owning our motivations—catching ourselves before we pull out our red pen to edit our child’s story.
As parents, we can step back and ask ourselves if we are invested in our children's best interests or somehow meeting our own narcissistic needs. Sometimes, it might be both! The key is becoming conscious of how we may invest too much of our self-esteem into our kids so that we can make adjustments.
Imagine if Barbara were to step back and get curious about her and Emily’s disagreement and why she’s insisting that Emily attend the school of her choice rather than Emily’s. There’s a useful tool from the business world for getting to the root cause of a problem developed within the Toyota production system called the Five Whys. The idea is to start with a problem statement, “Emily and I can’t agree on where she’ll attend college,” and keep asking, “Why?” until you get to the root cause of the problem. Here’s a quick demonstration.
Even when our kids share our desire, if they sense that our enthusiasm is more about us than them, they feel like their ambition has been commandeered. What was “their thing” can become “my thing” as their parent.
I've fallen into this narcissistic extension pattern myself. There were times I was too invested in my kid’s decisions. I can look back now and understand how my self-esteem was tied to their actions or accomplishments. I can’t undo these moments but, hopefully, I can give you some tools to recognize and prevent you from falling into narcissistic extension behavior.
And if you’ve experienced being the narcissistic extension of a parent of another person, take the opportunity to step back and reclaim your own narrative.You might find this concept helpful to understand yourself more deeply or as a parent, but these patterns also play out in other relationships like marriage, academia, and work. The concept of narcissistic extension is powerful. Once you understand it, it’s hard not to see it.
Questions to Think About in Writing Your Story
What did I neglect in myself because I was too worried about what my parents wanted for me?
What strength of mine did I leave out of my narrative?
In what ways do I define myself that aren't accurate?
Can I revamp these definitions to reveal my story?
Questions to Think About in Parenting an Author
Why do I want this for my child - who is this really for?
What is the void I want to fill by having my child do X?
Will my child, as an adult, look back and be glad they did X?
What does doing or accomplishing X mean to my child and how do I affirm this meaning?
Reading this post, I couldn't help but think of Jennette McCurdy's bestselling memoir, I'm Glad My Mom Died, which is a (true) horror story of a stage parent! Jennette's mom tried to live vicariously through her; and Jennette suffered abuse that it took her years of therapy to fully understand. This is an extreme case—but as you write, this is a very common instinct or tendency that we can learn to recognize and question.
Great food for thought. As we look at our district's "magnet schools" for middle school for our daughter, it's so hard to tease out our motivations versus hers. She's 10! She's still figuring out so many things (like untying her double-knotted shoes) and here we are wondering how we can get her to be enthusiastic about test scores and essays for the applications. For me, it's not so much I want her to be like me, but I want her to avoid what I experienced -- which is going to a regular, low-achieving middle school where there were fights and teen pregnancies and burned-out staff and low expectations. A magnet school is less likely to have those things, but we also don't want to pressure her and make her miserable. Oy, the balance.