Why do people often believe that they need to berate someone to motivate them to achieve? I remember telling my father one day that I thought he had been hard on me as an adolescent when he repeatedly voiced his concerns so convincingly that my “contrary personality” would put my future career and prospects in jeopardy. I have pondered over his answer ever since.
“Who knows whether you would have done as well in your life had I not been saying that? Perhaps this provided the motivation you needed,“ my father had speculated, half-joking and with a subtle smile on his face.
I wonder if it indeed provided the motivation I needed. And if so, at what cost? I will never know whether my motivation to achieve was prompted by a desire to earn my father’s approval; or to prove him wrong; or whether my wings were in fact clipped by the feeling of insecurity his words evoked in me, my doubts about my value as a human being preventing me from achieving more.
I recently read a BBC article about Rafael Nadal’s harsh uncle, whose tough love as his head coach is seen as instrumental in the shaping of Spain’s 21-time Grand Slam champion. Nadal’s paternal uncle was ruthless at times, not even allowing Rafael to rehydrate during training in the scorching Mallorca heat if he had forgotten his water bottle at home. Is this level of extreme testing of resilience necessary for extreme success? Apparently it is, according to Uncle Toni, who professes to love his nephew dearly.
When I reflect on my own life, I realise that I owe the enduring connections and friendships I have fostered throughout my life to my mother’s voice in my head, which tells me that I am a nice person, a kind person, that I have a lot of potential and a bright future ahead of me. Conversely, whenever I have dented or fractured a relationship, it has been from that place inside me that feels “less than”, contrary, inferior.
I wish there were a parallel universe where I could observe what would have happened if both my parents had motivated me through positive parenting. Who would I have become? Would Nadal still have won 21 Grand Slams if his head coach had been supportive of the softness in his personality, rather than training it out of him? What would happen to my children’s motivation and education if all their teachers held a positive bias, instead of a negative one - noticing their efforts and counting the steps forward they make rather than the steps back?
I do believe that tough love i.e. the act of challenging someone’s limits to help them expand their potential - is essential for human growth. But in the absence of a parallel universe shining a light on the right balance between “tough” and “love”, what I choose to believe is that “tough” is helpful and healthy only when it is enveloped in unconditional love. That unconditional love which carries a fundamental acceptance of the intrinsic value of the person in front of us, emancipated from any outcome, be it achievement or failure. The unconditional love that manifests in authentic positive affirmation, affection and compassion.
In a world riddled with negative bias, I choose to count the little steps forward, to praise, to “big up” those around me, rather than put them down. And when I let myself down, which is not uncommon, when my negative sentiments and judgements override my love, I pick myself up and try again. The benefits of achieving, of pushing ourselves forward must outweigh the psychological cost of the discomfort inherent in pushing against our limits. Surely this can only happen if we marvel at the progress and the effort more than we dwell on the setbacks and the imperfections, right?
