This book already saved me from making a really big mistake
What an inspired book for such a widespread malady! Amid the flood of mindfulness books about anxiety, depression, addiction, pain, illness and stress, Micki’s little book on the chronic need to please is a welcome shift in the field of awareness. Despite my efforts over the years to apply mindfulness to the full range of moods and mind states, I’m not sure I ever would have noticed my entrenched need to please. It was that unconscious.
And not long ago, the book actually saved me from making a really big mistake—ironically as a volunteer in an organization dedicated to mindfulness!
Over the past year, I had become more actively involved with the service committee of a local insight meditation community. When the community’s retreat manager retired, David, the lead teacher, called to ask if I would be willing to take over the job. He cited a number of reasons he felt I might be the right person and, I confess, I was flattered. Without allowing myself the requisite space and time to sit with the request, I agreed. On the spot. Setting down the phone, however, a noticed an uneasy feeling in my gut. But, alas, I ignored it.
You should know, by the way, that Micki’s book does a terrific job of situating the need to please not just in the mind and in our thoughts, but in the body, which can be quite an astute teacher. If we’re listening.
One day, not long after I had agreed to take the job, I walked past a stack of books by the bed. And there was The Need to Please, staring up at me, almost waving its arms, trying to get my attention. I stared back, suddenly aware of what had been going on in my queasy gut. Aack, I thought, I did it again! I mindlessly agreed to something I don’t really want to do, just to please the teacher! Taking on this responsibility would cost me, not only a lot of time, but also a certain loss of income because I’m self-employed. So I opened Micki’s book, paged through the exercises and ideas, and found the conviction I needed to call up David and back out of my ill-considered decision as gracefully as possible. When I hung up, the relief was palpable.
The book is filled with mindfulness practices that apply not only to the need to please, but the whole constellation of thoughts, moods, and sensations that surround it—including the inevitable embarrassment and self-judgment that arise when we awaken to our need to please. Micki extends a warm hand, and says: Go easy on yourself. It’s not your fault. It is, however, your choice.
Let me add a few words about this idea that the need to please is not your fault. Micki situates the origin of this need—which in some of us can become chronic and maladaptive—in a seemingly universal childhood wound, which leaves us feeling unworthy of love. This part of the book is worth spending some time on, and she provides gentle guidance here.
However, it occurs to me that the need to please is, in fact, an evolutionary adaptation. What I mean is that research in the remarkable working of the human brain indicates that we have evolved an array of social capacities that have ensured our survival. We are, indeed, among the most social species on earth (ants and bees are perhaps more social, but few other mammals are nearly as hypersocial as we are, which is why we have dominated the earth).
We simply cannot survive alone. It’s not surprising, therefore, that we are actually “wired” to please others, as part of our amazing capacity to “fit” into the needs and goals of some larger tribe, which helps keep us alive. In hunter-gatherer societies, those who go their own way, who do not concern themselves with the thoughts and opinions of others, simply don’t last. And this is how all humans lived for hundreds of thousands of years before modern psychology came along and suggested that perhaps our individual childhood experiences are the dominant source of our woes. If, therefore, evolution has some played some role in my need to please, wouldn’t awareness of this allow me to relax my self-judgment and accept that it’s not just some personal flaw?
What’s more, this feeling of unworthiness is part of the cultural air we breathe in the West, because of the pervasive belief in “original sin” that came with our religious heritage—even if we ourselves have shucked that particular belief. It still surrounds us. This, too, makes me feel flawed and unlovable. Again, however, it’s not my fault. Not even my parents’ fault. It’s a cultural phenomenon. Mindfulness can help me expand the field of awareness beyond the self or even the nuclear family, and see the larger sources of my need to please.
One more thing. In the interests of full disclosure, I must confess: I’m writing this review at least partly to please Micki.
The truth is, I feel terribly grateful to her. Micki was the one who first introduced me to Jon Kabat-Zinn’s mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR) program way back in the early 90s, which later became pivotal in my learning to live with chronic pain. I’m not sure she even knows this. What’s more, when I published my book, The Secret Sorrow (2010), in which mindfulness played an enormous role in my ability to work through a huge existential loss, Micki graciously wrote an endorsement for me. So when I heard she had published a mindfulness book of her own, I felt compelled to write a review in return. How embarrassing.
But just to prove I haven’t succumbed entirely to the need to please, let me tell you one thing I really did not like about the book: the cover. It shows a woman wearing a pink dress. Egads, I wish New Harbinger hadn’t chosen this image. It seems to assume the reader is a woman, perhaps even a stereotypical woman (why else choose pink, rather than blue or green, or for that matter, jeans?) Perhaps for marketing purposes, it’s best to target women, who are, after all, more likely on a purely statistical basis to buy a self-help book. But it leaves entirely the wrong impression, namely that the need to please is a woman’s problem. It’s not. It’s a human problem. It’s my problem. Perhaps more emotionally sensitive men suffer the most from it, but I’m sure lots of men, even stereotypically men, suffer from it. Unfortunately, they might never buy the book, just because of the cover.
Nevertheless, you really can’t judge a book by its cover. So if you’re a chronic pleaser, man or woman, and it’s causing you to suffer, buy this book and work your way through it mindfully. Not only will you be glad you did. You’ll be chronically pleased for years to come.