What makes you good in the workplace can work against you at home. Here’s how to turn things around.
I was sitting at a Bobbie Sox game (for those of you who don’t know, that’s girls’ softball) on a beautiful sunny day when an eight-year-old blonde stepped up to the plate. The entire time she was batting, her father was yelling at her from the stands.
“Spread your feet wider. Put your hands together on the bat . . .”
I cringed for that little girl. Clearly, she was embarrassed and stressed. Who wouldn’t be with that know-it-all dad? I shook my head. So much damage is done by dads who know how life ought to be for everyone else and end up vicariously living their lives through their children.
Simply stated, he was a knucklehead.
Many of us men think we know everything. We’re groomed from babyhood to compete, so we’re critical of those around us and don’t even realize how harsh we’re being on our daughters.
In the movie A Walk in the Clouds, a young woman arrives home at her family’s vineyard in California. What her family doesn’t know is that she’s pregnant, and that a kind GI (Keanu Reeves) has agreed to pretend he’s her husband in order to protect her, at least temporarily, from her controlling, critical-eyed father. When her father demands to know the truth, she says, “The only truth you want is the truth according to you.” Along the way, Reeves falls in love with her, and pleads with her father, “Can’t you see how special she is?” But the father continues to criticize her. When his domineering ways and wrath nearly destroy his own vineyard and thus his family’s way of life for generations, he is brought to his knees. His family gathers around him, and he has to admit to his daughter, “I was afraid of losing you . . . all of you.”1
You see, the critical-eyed person’s need to control people and situations actually comes from a deep insecurity. The insecure person tries to make himself feel better by putting everyone else down. This insecurity comes with a mantra that says, “Life has to be perfect. There’s a right way to do everything, and it’s my way. I have all the answers, and I have to be right. That means I have to control the situation.”
Critical-Eyed Dad Scenarios
Your daughter is ready to go out on a date. She comes down the stairs dressed in something you don’t think is appropriate.
You bark, “You’re not going out like that!”
And she screams, “Mother!”
“Your room looks like a pigsty. I’m sick of looking at it.”
“But, Dad, I—”
“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your room clean?”
“Dad, I need money.”
“What do you mean you need money? I gave you money last week.”
“I spent that. It’s all gone.”
“What do you think—that money grows on trees? You are so irresponsible. I thought you could handle money better than that.”
When the grades come home, your daughter has five As and one B+.
You say, “Hey, what’s with the B+?”
Your daughter comes home, crushed because she didn’t get the job she wanted.
You say, “Well, if you had worn something that looked more businesslike, you would have gotten it.”
What Thumper’s Mama Said Still Holds True
“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.”2
Critical-eyed dads can find the flaw in anything. They’re always taking the cheap shot, the hit that says, “You could do better.” I see this in the stories of so many adults who tell me, “My parents never said, ‘I’m proud of you’ or ‘I love you.’ ”
In addition, a lot of parents use their children. For example, I know a twenty-nine-year-old woman who is very good at math. She became her father’s bookkeeper and office manager as soon as she graduated from college. Last Friday night, when she was ready to leave at 5:00 p.m., her father came in, frowned at her desk, and said, “Listen, I need all this stuff done. You should have been able to do it all today, but you’re slow . . . as usual. It has to go out in the morning. You need to stay and finish this.” Even though she’s now an adult, her father is still controlling her with his critical eye.
Dad, are you treating your daughter the way you’d want to be treated?
Signs You Are Too Critical
• Your kid draws a picture and tears it up before your eyes because it’s not good enough.
• Your kid takes a test and says, “I really blew it.” Later you found out she got an A.
• Your kid puts herself down before you can.
The perfectionistic, critical-eyed parent most likely grew up with criticism himself. That’s why it’s important to put your critical eye in a storage unit for the rest of your and your daughter’s lives. It’s not easy to keep criticism bottled up, because it’s so ingrained. Your first instinct is always to see the flaw. It’s like an emotional or psychological virus that travels to your daughter.
Stan has a son and a daughter. His son, Michael, was handsome, a track star, an A student, and beloved by everybody, and he had a personality that drew everyone to him. His daughter, Cheryl, two years younger, was average in looks, was a B student, and didn’t seem to excel at anything. Stan didn’t realize until Cheryl married after college how much of an impact his criticism had on his daughter.
“My son-in-law is a carbon copy of me, but even more critical,” Stan says. “I can see how my criticism beat my daughter down so that she didn’t want to try anything, because she knew she couldn’t do it as well as her brother. Now my son-in-law is doing the same thing to my daughter and my grandkids, and I’m seeing the impact in all of their lives. I’m working hard to change my responses in my interactions with my daughter and grandkids. But that’s not enough. I wish someone would have sat me down and told me what I was doing to my daughter. I’m going to have that talk with my son-in-law. He may listen, he may not, but I’m at least going to try.”
The Pros and Cons of Your Skills
How do you go about tweaking what you want to change?
First, tell yourself the truth about yourself. Admit that you are a flaw picker. There is no magic dust for this situation. One of the most resistant things to turn around is a personality. You’ve been perfectionistic and critical of yourself and others since you were a little kid. You were the kid who used to line up your trucks and LEGOs in military precision. You’re most likely a firstborn or only-born child. The way you respond to life has been ingrained in you. If you want a relationship with your daughter, you’re the one who has to change. Without change on your part first, you can’t have a relationship with your daughter.
Second, realize your skills that help you get raises, bonuses, and rave reviews at work are the same skills that work against you in your personal life. Perfectionists are often engineers, math teachers, architects, accountants, English professors, or other similar occupations. In those professions, perfectionism has paid off. But it backfires when you use it with people you love. When you find the flaw in your daughter, you’re going to pay for it by shutting her down.
Third, because your tendencies to flaw-pick are ingrained, you’re going to have to practice doing this. Your initial reaction will always be to find the flaw, and you’ll fail miserably unless you stop and ask yourself, “What does the old me do?” And then, “What is the new me going to do differently?”
While keeping your mouth shut, look for something positive to say.
If you don’t keep your mouth shut while you’re asking yourself those two questions, you will automatically do what you used to you. So, while keeping your mouth shut, look for something positive to say. Yes, in the beginning it’ll be hard—kind of like trying to bend a river. But with practice and intentional action, the flow of water can cut a different kind of channel. You can gain success with baby steps of progress.
But making progress in this area is critical for your daughter’s well-being both now and in the future. Criticizing a daughter wreaks havoc in her life. It makes her think, I’m not worth anything. If she doesn’t think she’s worth anything, whom will she gravitate to in her life? People who will treat her as if she’s not worth it. She’ll become a dishrag pleaser, the kind of woman people walk all over and abuse, whether at work, in her marriage, or with her other relationships. Is that really what you want for your daughter?
Q: I just read The Birth Order Book and realize I’ve been the epitome of a critical-eyed parent. It grieves me to know that the issues my ten-year-old daughter is dealing with are directly attributed to how I’ve parented her. I always knew the right way to do things, and that was my way of doing things. I thought I was doing the right thing by holding her accountable and being tough on her. Now I realize that’s been a big mistake. Is it possible to turn things around? If so, how?
A: Yes, you can turn things around. But the first important thing you need to realize is that, right now, you don’t have a relationship with your daughter. Your entire connection has been built on rules and doing things your way. She hasn’t had any say in the matter. What you have to do first is apologize. That’s the only and the best way to start a relationship.
“Honey, I’ve come to the conclusion that your dad has made a complete fool of himself. I didn’t realize it until now. I’ve acted like there’s only one way to get things done, and that’s my way. I’ve been very wrong, and I need to ask for your forgiveness.”
Then you need to come alongside your daughter, listen to her, encourage her, and go out of your way to hear her perspective. Old habits will die hard, so you’ll have to work very hard to think before you speak or act. What did you used to do? What should you do now? What will you do differently? It would be to your daughter’s and your benefit to read two of my books: Have a New You by Friday and Why Your Best Is Good Enough.
Why Changing Your Ways Is So Important for Your Daughter
Many have wondered how Hillary Rodham Clinton has withstood the public humiliation of her husband’s infidelity. Well, here’s a clue: Hillary’s dad was a textbook World War II–style dad. He actually trained troops for combat in the 1940s, though he himself never saw combat or left the States. Eventually he became the owner and sole employee of his own business, making drapes. Hillary described him as “a self-sufficient, tough-minded, small businessman.”3
However, he was not an affirming father. On one telling occasion, Hillary brought home a report card with straight As. “My father’s only comment,” Hillary remembers, “was, ‘Well, Hillary, that must be an easy school you go to.’ ” Another time he said, “Well, Hillary, how are you going to dig yourself out of this one?”4
In her book It Takes a Village, Hillary notes, “Children without fathers, or whose parents float in and out of their lives after divorce, are precarious little boats in the most turbulent seas.”5
What she doesn’t say—but what she has unwittingly demonstrated—is that children who have critical-eyed fathers grow accustomed to the treatment they’ve received as children and expect to be treated that way when they grow up. The message in the Rodham home? Toughen up. Emotions show weakness of character. “Maybe that’s why she’s such an accepting person,” Hillary’s mother, Dorothy, has said of her daughter. “She had to put up with him.”6
As a practicing psychologist, I’ve found few generalizations to be all that accurate, but there’s one in particular that, unfortunately, holds pretty true: most women who grow up with perfectionistic, critical fathers have high expectations of themselves. Though they may seem successful on the outside, they often feel like failures on the inside.
They also tend to marry exactly the wrong man. I’ve seen many women who have been scarred by their fathers then stack the deck against themselves to prove they’re not worth anything—like their fathers told them.
Most women who grow up with perfectionistic, critical fathers have high expectations of themselves.
Jenna’s first husband—a handsome guy she’d quickly fallen in love with in high school—was abusive and controlling. When they divorced, he moved and refused to pay childcare, leaving her and their two young children nearly destitute. Jenna worked three jobs to provide for herself and the kids. When she met Frank, an older guy, she was certain he was “the one.” He wanted to be involved in her and the kids’ lives—something her father and ex-husband never were. But when they married, it didn’t take long before she saw Frank for who he truly was: a womanizer, an alcoholic, and someone who sponged off others and had barely worked a day in his life.
Why does Jenna migrate toward losers? Because doing so reinforces the image she has of herself from her critical dad—that she’s not worth loving.
Sadly, to make things even worse, women who have a low view of women invariably find men with a low view of women. Ironically, it takes a strong father to give a woman a high view of femininity. Daughters who are loved and affirmed by their fathers consider themselves worth being loved, so they pursue men who treat them like Daddy does.
Dad, that’s why it’s critical you pay attention to your daughter now—that you love her unconditionally and affirm her. If you don’t, she may pay for that lack of attention the rest of her life with a disastrous marital choice. It will also greatly affect the way she and her husband treat your grandkids.
If you’re a woman, and you’re reading this chapter, it’s crucial that you also understand the role the critical eye plays in relationships. A woman’s relationship with her father will indelibly stamp the way she treats her sons. Remember what I said about how it’s the cross-gender relationships that pack the most punch? Men need to be aware of this dynamic to help bring balance; women need to be aware of it to help right a family ship that is listing.
The time to do both is right now.
Daddy Tune-Up
Ask yourself:
• Am I quick to react?
• Do I prejudge people and situations?
• Do I jump to conclusions?
• Is my automatic answer no?
• Do I have a short fuse?
• Am I great at finding the flaw? A nitpicker?
• Do I have the need to be right?
• Do I blame others for my own shortcomings?
If you replied yes to any of the above questions, you’ve got a critical eye.
“I Love You Just the Way You Are”
Andrea, an only child, was a high school sophomore—beautiful, smart, and well liked by teachers and peers. In fact, all pointed to her as an example of a teenager who would achieve great heights someday. She got almost all As on her report card, was the track champion at her school, and started a group that volunteered after school at a shelter for abused animals.
Andrea was also three months pregnant. I met the family when her mother called me for help.
“Her father isn’t taking this very well,” she said with a tremor in her voice.
The first time I met with the family, the father refused to come. He said it wasn’t his problem; it was Andrea’s.
I’m a psychologist. I don’t take that kind of guff. So I phoned him and insisted he come . . . now.
A very angry father stalked into the room a short while later. “She’s the one who needs straightening out! And that boyfriend of hers! So why do you need to talk to me?”
Andrea had been dating the same boy for over a year. Nick was two years older and a senior. Both were good kids and top achievers. They had met while caring for an abused puppy at the shelter. Both had a heart, literally, for the underdog. The more I found out about them, I understood why. Andrea couldn’t remember a time when her father had said he loved her; Nick couldn’t remember his mother ever saying she loved him. Both teenagers had sensitive personalities that suffered greatly from parental criticism. That only drew the two closer for mutual comfort, and one night hormones took over.
“When I looked into Nick’s eyes, and he said he loved me, I realized, Wow, this is the first time a guy has ever said that to me,” Andrea told me.
“When was the last time your daddy said he loved you?” I asked.
She hung her head. “Never.”
“Never?” I said.
Finally she whispered, “I was never good enough.” She looked up at me, with tears in her eyes. “I wish he’d said it even once.”
Now that’s a tragedy. At that moment, I wanted to punch that dad right where it counts for what he’d done to his daughter.
When was the last time you told your daughter, “I love you”?
Dad, when was the last time you told your daughter, “I love you”? Or do you simply assume she knows it? Do you treat her like the precious treasure she is, or does she constantly have to jump over the high bar of your expectations?
It’s time to bring the classic Billy Joel lyric into play: “I love you just the way you are.” Go ahead—practice the words if you can’t say them right away. If you tend to have that critical eye, go out of your way to affirm and encourage because your imprinted tendency will be to nitpick.
One of the most fundamental needs for a human being is acceptance. Your daughter is going to belong someplace. So where will that be? With you, or in someone else’s arms?
If you were to ask each of my kids, “Who’s Daddy’s favorite?” I bet each would whisper, “Don’t tell the others, but I’m sure that it’s me.” They all think they’re the favorite—and I work to preserve each one’s treasured place in my heart. In fact, all have nicknames I’ve given them. For example, Hannah is “Daddy’s little peanut.” Lauren is “Daddy’s little muffin.” One time I got tired and referred to Lauren as “Daddy’s little peanut” and was rebuked with a vigorous, “I’m not Daddy’s little peanut; I’m Daddy’s little muffin!” That’s another thing I learned as a father of daughters. You don’t mix up your daughters’ nicknames—ever.
Your daughter needs your affirmation; she longs to belong to you, to hold that treasured place in your heart.
What happened to Andrea, Nick, and their baby? They were unusually mature teenagers. Knowing they weren’t ready for marriage or parenting, they decided to grant another couple the gift of adoption. With the help of their wise school administrator, Andrea was able to move into an older couple’s home nearby and finish her last few months of sophomore year through homestudy. Nick brought her homework each night and went to doctor visits with her. Their baby was born in the summer, with Nick in the delivery room. As Nick held their baby, the first thing he whispered was, “Oh, here you are, finally. Like a little angel. I love you, my girl.”
Andrea started sobbing. They were the words she’d longed to hear from her father for so long. Now they were the first words her little girl heard from her father.
Today Andrea is a sophomore in college. Nick is a senior at the same college. They’re no longer dating each other, but neither is dating anyone else. They’re focusing on growing their friendship, realizing it will be the best way to form a solid foundation for marriage, should they choose to go that way in the future. Both are still achievers—Andrea aiming to become a veterinarian and Nick a high school teacher. Two Saturdays a month they volunteer at a local animal shelter. One weekend a month they drive to visit their now four-year-old daughter at her adopted parents’ home. They never leave without each of them telling little Nicole, “I love you.”
Such simple words.
But they make a mountain of difference to your daughter—both now and in her future.
A Good Dad’s Quick Reference Guide
• Affirm instead of flaw-pick.
• Say “I love you” always and often.