The Delusion Of Individuation
We have bought into the delusion of individuation. Once we reach a certain age, graduate, move away from home, we become adults. We succeed at achieving individuation. We are original individuals, free, unique and independent. We believe that we are all self-made and self-sufficient. It sounds great. It is empowering. It feeds our egos. Eventually however many of us are bound to discover that our independence, originality and uniqueness may be a delusion.
Unknowingly perhaps, we all have some liabilities from the get-go. The passed on values of our parents stay with us. The remnants of the hubris of teenage rebellion are still alive. So is the ignorance of the fact that we grew up by growing toward and / or against others.
Blissfully unaware of the formative staples of our selfhood we continue in our careers and lives. Everything appears to be exactly as expected. We mature, find a mate, have kids of our own, raise a family. Everything seems to have come full circle. We are winners. We succeeded. All on our own. We are the ones! We are all grown-up and complete, preaching the gospel to the next generation. That is until the day when the rug gets pulled from under us and the illusion of individuation — leave alone stand-alone individuality — bursts like a bubble.
That’s what happened to me when my Mom died. (Be warned: we ALL eventually become orphans!) It was then and only then that I realized that I’m not as grown-up, self-made or self-reliant as I thought. I learned it the hard way, when the person I gravitated toward — and whose expectations of me I resented — was no longer here.
I quickly came to realize that my individuality is not a product of my own making, after all! I am mostly a blend of my Mom’s values and my teenage rebellion with a few bumps and scars of experience, all neatly filed away as MY self-image.
The day She left me, the day my personal Highest Authority didn’t need pleasing, appeasing, or accounting to, I got lost. Suddenly there was no one to judge or criticize me. No sounding board. No standards to uphold. No one to keep the score. No one to record history. No one to worship. No one to rebel against.
It was very painful to discover that I’m not the 100% one-of-a-kind, fantastic me I believed to be, but a blend of many influences, most notably my Mom’s. It was disheartening to realize the futility of my individuation efforts. From such a vantage point, it is unlikely than any of us are masterpieces of our own creation.
We are wrought by the influences of others, experiences and events. Our individuality is the picture we pieced together with puzzle pieces we don’t own. Click To Tweet
With these new insights in place comes a new level of maturity, sometimes tainted with regret. In the days and weeks following my Mom’s death I resented my ego. The ego that made me stand strong and unafraid while she faced the ultimate challenge. The ego that didn’t let me crumble and fall to my knees to beg her forgiveness, express my love and appreciation. The ego that prevented me from understanding and acknowledging Her with more love and compassion.
As months and years passed, I begun to realize that a part of the problem may lay in the roles we’re assigned. It is hard for a child to appreciate a parent as a separate individual. The individual — both, the parent and the child — somehow becomes fused with their role. The positive feelings which would have been easy to express to a casual acquaintance are next to impossible to express to a parent. The conflicts one would normally confront or walk away from with anyone else cannot be handled the same way with a Mother.
My Mom was an incredible person. She had a powerful personality: she was caring, open-minded, compassionate, talented, fair, generous, creative, wise, beautiful, original… All the adjectives pour out so easily, now. And yet, I never expressed them fully to the Person who should have known what I really thought of Her.
Individuation is elusive. It may be a myth altogether. It may be that just like DNA it is inherited with a few minor variations added along the way. Perhaps our understanding of individuality as original, unique, distinguishing and self-made needs to be corrected. This is my hard-won wisdom: individuation is a delusion. Individuality is neither self-made nor a personal achievement to claim credit for but — minor contributions, damage and vanity of the ego not withstanding — a legacy, a legacy not to be resented, but revered and preserved. After all, we are only its temporary guardians.
