For a long time, the effects of my actions, the results, were only of secondary importance to me. The primary thing was to "be busy." To experience myself in action. And then hopefully receive recognition for my activism. Everyone does it, so it must be right. Like a sprinkler: lots to do, very busy, a full schedule. Ideally, being needed by others and asked for advice. That feels good and gives additional confirmation. The effects and results of my actions were only of secondary importance. It didn't occur to me that the dispersion of my energy reduced the effect. Nor did it occur to me that my "wanting to be needed" kept others small and made them dependent on me. On the contrary: I felt good about it. I felt popular.
By observing other people, I noticed that there were also those who concentrated less and thus achieved a powerful effect, like magnifying glasses. But concentrating on the effect, as with a magnifying glass scary to me. I rejected this and condemned it morally as inhuman. Just like so many others do: because these types were somewhat strict with themselves and their environment. For them, results came first and relationships second. And for me, relationships came first and results second. I was a sprinkler I liked myself in that role.
But the appeal of "being active" changed. Being active alone was no longer enough for me; I constantly needed new stimuli. New thrills. And so, over time, I only felt truly alive when pushing myself to the limit. I have already told you where this led. So much for my analysis. So the question is: Are we more like sprinkler magnifying glass? And what would we rather be?
The concept of performance shapes
Before my accident, there had been no reason to think about it. I just lived life to the fullest. A life on a high-speed train. The idea of performance was firmly anchored in my value system. It had shaped me and defined my personality as a high-performance athlete. As a child, a student, and a young adult, the principle of performance was clearly linked to external recognition for me. Many children suffer from this, and I also struggled with it at times, because conversely, it meant that if you didn't perform, you wouldn't get any recognition, love, or attention.
This was a lot of pressure for a boy, and it did indeed lead to a certain behavior: when you are used to receiving recognition only in this particular way, you want to stand out and constantly try to be the center of attention. And that's what I did. Most of the time, it wasn't difficult for me. My hometown, for example, was small. When I did a somersault from the three-meter board at the outdoor pool, I was already a big shot. The principle usually worked at home, too. I had no problems at school, my grades were good, and I was also a talented clarinetist and saxophonist. And in tennis, I quickly rose from youth club champion to men's club champion and, via district champion in singles and doubles, to Württemberg A champion. City champion in skiing, wrestling, swimming, and, yes, Carrera slot car racing. District champion in track and field and even Swabian champion in ski jumping.
The desire for validation
"Now I've arrived here, I still have to get there. Okay, then the next step comes, and maybe I'll manage another one." On and on and on—that was my motto in life. It was not surprising that I thought that way. My parents supported it. They ran a tennis school, and it suited them well that their son was a kind of poster child. Of course, they didn't mean to hurt me, and of course I felt obligated to my parents. I was fine with it; I had a great life. But for my two younger brothers, I became an uncomfortable example. It wasn't easy for them to find their own identity under this pressure. These are all issues that we as children worked through and transformed together over time, both among ourselves and with our parents. Of course, not everything, but a lot of crucial things. I'm proud of that. Because families often fail because of unconscious patterns from childhood. These issues also need to be transformed.
What don't we do, how much do we sometimes bend ourselves out of shape, overwork ourselves, can't say no and take on tons of tasks, trying to please everyone? All in the hope that we will hear: "That's an excellent suggestion! You are excellent! You look great! Or: I'm proud of you! I love you!" The desire for validation is a basic human need. There's no question about that—probably ever since an apple tree caused Adam and Eve to be expelled from paradise.
Photo by Jonas Svidras from Pexels
