The Birth Order Book (32 page)

If you continue to live out a lifeline that says you count only when you are in control, are perfect, please everyone, get attention, or do something else, you are lying to yourself. You count because you are created in the image of the almighty God himself, not because of what you do or don’t do. So be aware of the lies you are always telling yourself at a subconscious level, and keep those lies under control with cognitive discipline. The next time you are in a stressful situation of any kind—at work, at a party, in your own living room, wherever—stop and use cognitive discipline by asking yourself,
What did the old me usually do?
After identifying your usual lifeline and course of action, ask yourself,
What is the new me going to do differently?

Which Are You?

Take this quiz to find out.

1. What words below would best describe your lifestyle? If you feel you have characteristics that fit more than one description, check them both off, but put an “X” by the one that is predominant. Then write down your lifestyle, putting the dominant description first.

____ Controller

____ Perfectionist

____ Driver

____ Pleaser

____ Victim

____ Martyr

____ Goody-goody

____ Attention getter

____ Rationalizer

2. My life theme: “I count only when _____________________.”

3. Using the lifestyles listed above, give your own estimate of which ones apply to your spouse. (Remember, you can use more than one style, but write the predominant one first.) _______________.

4. From the descriptions that you’ve given of your spouse above, state what you believe is your spouse’s life theme: “I count only when ____________________.”

This isn’t some kind of magic formula that causes instant change. But as you keep using this simple old me/new me approach, you will be able to change your lifeline and be able to say more often, “I count because I’m me!”

Lifelines

Do any of these sound like you?

“I count only when I perform.”

This could be a lifeline for a perfectionist or someone who needs attention. It would depend on what you mean by “perform.” Perfectionists have to realize they can never do it all and that their true worth lies in who they are as people, not in what they do as performers. As for people needing attention, they perform to be noticed, applauded, or given another carrot. This is selfish behavior and very frustrating because they can never get enough carrots! It’s like the lab rat that’s on a perennial moving treadmill and can never get off.

“I count only when I win.”

This is a variation of “I count only when I’m in control.” Another way to describe this lifestyle is “win-lose.”There’s no in-between. We hear a lot of talk today about succeeding and winning, but living by the win-lose code is a constant burden and hassle. I like to say that winning isn’t everything—but helping others win
is
everything.

“I count only when I’m cared for.”

This is a hybrid that relates back to “I count only when I’m noticed” or “I count only when people pay attention to me.” It is a typical lifeline of a lastborn, especially a baby princess who is used to being spoiled, being cared for, and having her older brothers protect her.

“I count only when I give of myself.”

This is a variation of the pleaser’s line, a favorite of the compliant firstborn perfectionist who grows up never failing to obey Mommy and Daddy. But in a marriage, a pleaser must always be wary of overdoing it, especially if he or she is married to a controller or a critical perfectionist. Marriage is a give-and-take proposition. When one person has to do all the giving, it takes its toll on the relationship.

13
Flaunt Your Imperfections
Parenting Firstborns and Only Children

T
he scene is a preschool class, and the teacher has just handed little Emily a pair of scissors (rounded tips, of course) and a sheet of bright red construction paper. Emily’s assignment is to cut out a nice big circle. She labors away and is doing a fairly nice job when all of a sudden she crumples up the paper and throws her half-completed circle on the floor.

The teacher comes over and asks, “Emily, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this!”

“I’ll help you. Here, let me—”

“No! I’m not going to do it. It’s dumb!”

And the teacher sighs and wonders,
What’s gotten into Emily?

It’s really no mystery. Emily is a firstborn child, and her parents are both very capable, confident people. Already at the tender age of 5, Emily is exhibiting a major characteristic she shares with almost all other firstborns and only children, a burden she will carry throughout life: perfectionism.

Perfectionism

I know you may disagree with my assertion that almost all firstborns and only children are perfectionists. Parents tell me about their firstborn Harlan, who is 17 and has yet to make a conscientious move. In fact, he hasn’t moved to make his bed for the last six months.

Or perhaps they’ll mention firstborn daughter Amanda, who is so laid-back they have to put a mirror in front of her nose to be sure she’s alive. She’s getting a C- in history and math and an A+ in MTV and Facebook.

But even though Harlan and Amanda seem to act like anything but perfectionistic firstborns, I stick to my guns for two very good reasons, the same two reasons that have made Emily into a little discouraged perfectionist while still in preschool—Mom and Dad.

When you are little— very little—and try to imitate someone much older and bigger, you soon get the idea you have to be “perfect.”

When you are little—very little— and try to imitate someone much older and bigger, you soon get the idea you have to be “perfect.” To show you what I mean, let’s observe Emily at home with Mom. Emily has made her own bed, and for a 5-year-old she’s done a very good job of it. Mom comes in to check and says, “Oh, Emily, honey, what a beautiful job you did on your bed!” Emily beams—until Mom proceeds to “straighten out a few wrinkles.”

The message for Emily? “Your bed doesn’t measure up. Your bed isn’t perfect.” No wonder Emily goes a little ballistic when she cuts a less-than-perfect circle at preschool. If she can’t be perfect, she won’t be anything at all. Emily is a budding discouraged perfectionist, and unless Mom stops nitpicking her to death in a very “positive” way, she will be in full bloom by the time she’s a teenager.

I counsel many young children who are budding discouraged perfectionists. They are not hard to spot:

They don’t hand in a school assignment even though it’s completed. Their problem is they’re not sure it’s done
exactly
right.

They start lots of projects or activities but don’t finish them.

They fear the enormity of a task and therefore don’t even start.

They are described by their teachers as “having
so much
potential.”

They have controlling, critical, or pushy parents.

Two Cases: Frank and John

Two vivid examples of discouraged perfectionists that stand out in my mind are young men I’ll call Frank and John. Frank was 12 when his only-child father (a surgeon) and his firstborn mother (a registered nurse) brought him to me because of his extreme “temper problem.” It seems Frank would blow his cool when his “plans for the day” didn’t go right. While most 12-year-olds can’t plan the next fifteen minutes, Frank knew exactly what he wanted to do from morning until night, something he picked up from his highly exacting, tightly scheduled, surgeon father.

Frank, by the way, was a “functional firstborn” in that he was the second of two children, born seven years after his older brother. With that much of a gap and with such high-powered professionals for parents, Frank couldn’t help but have a lot of firstborn traits.

In fact, Frank could have easily passed for an only child because he had a very difficult time getting along with children his own age, which is typical of only children. But it seems Frank wasn’t getting along with anyone. His friends could care less about his to-do list, and when Frank’s day didn’t go well (which was often), he would blow his top and get in fights. At home, if someone messed up his plans, Frank started kicking things, throwing things, and putting holes in the walls (once he tried to put holes in the family dog).

A very conscientious boy, Frank felt terrible about his behavior but was trapped in his prison of perfectionism. I was finally able to help Frank by pointing out that everyone makes mistakes and fails—even Babe Ruth, who hit 714 home runs but also struck out 1,330 times. But the real key was Frank’s dad, who had the courage and the sense to start admitting his own faults and imperfections, which he had kept carefully hidden.

Frank remained a perfectionist in many ways, but at least he got control of his temper by learning that he couldn’t control everything and, above all, that he didn’t have to be perfect to win his father’s approval and love.

Oh yes, John? I didn’t counsel John; in fact, I never got to meet him when I was assistant dean of students at the University of Arizona. But I had access to his records. Throughout his academic career, John never got less than an A and was about to graduate summa cum laude from U of A. His suicide note said,
I just couldn’t measure up to the standards of this world. Perhaps in the next world I can do better
.

Wanting to Be Just Like Mom and Dad

Perfectionism can get serious, even deadly, as in the case with John. So many people struggle with perfectionism because, in one way or another, they just can’t measure up to Mom and Dad, who may or may not have been perfectionists themselves. Keep in mind that it doesn’t take a surgeon and a nurse to turn out a discouraged perfectionist. It simply takes an adult who is just trying to be a capable, loving parent. Consider Harlan and Amanda again for a moment. It’s doubtful that their parents sat down just after the children were born and discussed how they could produce discouraged perfectionists. But they each produced one anyway simply by trying to be capable, loving parents. How? It’s very simple.

Slobs and poor students are usually discouraged perfectionists who have given up trying because it hurts too much to fail.

Very early during the first year of life, the firstborn starts to pick up on his or her adult role models—Mommy and Daddy—and starts setting his or her sights on being “just like them.” That includes being just as capable as they are, which is obviously impossible for a tiny child. So when firstborns like Harlan and Amanda get older, they may not look like perfectionists or act like perfectionists, but they are discouraged perfectionists. Slobs and poor students are usually discouraged perfectionists who have given up trying because it hurts too much to fail.

The firstborn’s desire to follow in Mommy’s and Daddy’s footsteps usually increases as the parents give the firstborn a lot of extra attention, or overparenting. They tend to be overprotective, and they unconsciously push the child to accomplish everything he or she can (and some things he or she can’t). It’s no wonder firstborns walk and talk earlier than any other birth order and that they have a larger vocabulary. Firstborns, along with their perfectionist cousins—the only children—grow up being little adults.

Firstborns, along with their perfectionist cousins—the only children—grow up being little adults.

I often apply the adjective
precocious
to firstborns and especially to only children. According to the dictionary,
precocious
means “characterized by unusually early development or maturity, especially in mental aptitude.” And that often describes firstborns and only children. They become very adult in a hurry because of all this imitating of Mom and Dad that they’re trying to do. Part of their adult behavior is that they become very obedient to authority, another hold-over from trying to please the two key authority figures in life—Mother and Father.

The Sting of Dethronement

Not only do all firstborns struggle with perfectionism, they also all undergo dethronement with the arrival of the secondborn in the family. Firstborns are the center of attention for a relatively long time (as time is measured in a young child’s life). In chapter 12 I mentioned the lifestyle every child develops by age 5 or so. If Mommy and Daddy don’t have a second child until the firstborn is 3 years old, three-fifths—60 percent—of the firstborn’s lifestyle has already been formed before the intruder comes home from the hospital. A great part of that lifestyle has taught the firstborn that he or she is kingpin. One of the most challenging tasks of parenting is preparing the firstborn child for the intrusion of the second.