Grandiosity and inadequacy are flip sides of the same coin. Because we feel our failings so deeply (inadequacy) we feel responsible for other people’s actions (grandiosity).
Patrick Cairns, Out Of The Shadows
Grandiosity; the quality or state of appearing or trying to appear more important or more valuable than is the case.
Merriam-Webster online dictionary
The world of childhood can be vey confusing. This is especially true in homes characterised by high levels of fear, stress, dysfunction, unhealthy boundaries (either none or too stringent), or the inability to identify, formulate, exchange, and process emotions.
Having grown up in a household of ten children, headed up by two loving parents who themselves each had eleven siblings, I certainly suffered from the high levels of stress, resulting even from such apparently banal issues as noise levels and so many children sharing limited physical space.
As so often happens with highly sensitive children who tend to pick up the multitude of signals of human interaction, I began to believe that I was the cause of other family members‘ dissatisfaction and unhappiness. This phenomenon is amplified when, within the dynamic of the typical blame games played out within families, parents or older members create the impression that their troubles result directly from the behaviour of the children, as in „Now look what you made me do!“ or „You will send me to an early grave!“. Twinned with the belief that I should be capable of `holding the fort together´, a deep sense of inadequacy followed.
Furthermore, the incessant, obsessive, infantile interpretation of scripture, especially the Old Testament, to which we were subjected in Catholic Ireland of the sixties, signalled to us children that we had the power to enrage the (one and only, true) punitive God, to the point that hellfire and brimstone would result!
As a child therefore, I really began to grow in the belief that I had super powers, including those which could make or break another’s happiness. This is the first stage in the development of grandiosity.
More grist on the mill emerges in our responses to painful and disappointing childhood experiences. In my case, I developed the belief that my needs would never be met by those around me. As a result, I set out to ensure that these needs would be met, in the belief that my will power represented sufficient fuel in my „pursuit of happiness“.
This inevitably leads to the cultivation of the quality or state of my ego appearing or trying to appear more important or more valuable than is the case. As `A Course In Miracles´ tells us, we have a general problem with authorship; `we think we have authored ourselves, and when I think I have authored myself, I have no sense of who I really am´. Instead of recognising that I am merely the builder of a life which has been designed on the drawing board of a cosmic architect, I claim the role of architect for my self. Wandering around like a lonely, confused, orphaned child, I begin to develop an approach to living life on my terms, rather than life on life’s terms. While the illusion can be maintained over years or even decades, life has a way of grinding down the ego, especially by confronting us with our true powerlessness in a variety of situations; people die, lovers leave, we become ill, the best laid plans do not work out, and we do not always get what we want.
When, as a result of such experiences, we have suffered enough, desperation leads us towards new possibilities. In my own life, in which active substance addiction played a major role from adolescence to mid life, I had fallen prey to the illusion that I had no choice. After an experience of surrender, I came to realise that I did indeed have a choice with every new breath. The fruits of this insight could be harvested only in a behavioural recipe that included the ingredients of courage, hope, responsibility, and humility. Courage alleviates apathy, hope resignation, and humility is the remedy for grandiosity.
Grandiosity, like many shortcomings of the ego, can often present itself as the wolf in sheep’s clothing. The overbearing mother who endeavours to spare her children the common painfulness of the human condition, the lover who deigns to identify the facts to be hidden from the partner because `it would upset her´, or, more obviously, the billionaire who donates huge amounts of his fortune and pulls global strings in pursuit of (a very fixed version of) the betterment of humankind, – all of these are examples of grandiosity at play.
It also exacts a high price. When I place my self at the centre of the universe, everything is about me. The weight of the world really does belong on my shoulders. That weight some day is bound to break me. The whispering at the copy machine must really be some negative exchange about me. The world has ganged up against me to secure my demise through the failure of my efforts to get what I really believe is my due (entitlement). Paranoia is only one small step away in this game of distorted perception.
Responsibility includes taking responsibility for the limitations of the lower self, i.e. I am powerless over other people, – and the infinite possibilities of the higher Self; its spiritual nature, pure love, and immortality. Put into practice, it shapes my response to life, while I go from one situation to another, each and every day.
First and foremost, it requires of me to admit that I have a dire problem which is screaming out for attention; a long journey of recovery lies ahead. Nobody can do this work for me; after years, if not decades of anaesthetised endurance in survival mode, life now challenges me to wake up to the promise of my full potential. This road can be rough and stoney at times. From time to time, I am called upon to take hits of discomfort in the short term. This is the price to be paid for good living in the long-term. `The good news is you get your feelings back´, I often hear in our Twelve Step meetings; ` and the bad news is you get your feelings back´.
The results of recovery emerge as we do the work, one day at a time; surrender, abstinence, inventory, clearing away the wreckage of the past, maintaining spiritual fitness, and service. Resentment, anger and antagonism are transformed into interest, willingness and acceptance. This enables me to move from the isolation of grandiosity (apart from) to the fraternity of community (a part of), driven by a sense of purpose, the experience of belonging, and the ethos of service to my fellows.
While I sometimes still miss the red carpet, the transformation is certainly worth the effort!
