now I know what it is.”
From that time until her death twenty-five years later, we became closer and closer. As lively as each of us was, we came even more to life in each other’s presence. Once, a few years ago, after she’d had a stroke, the doctors warned me she couldn’t speak and might never speak again. I walked into her room, she looked at me and said, “Carol, I love your outfit.”
What allowed me to take that first step, to choose growth and risk rejection? In the fixed mindset, I had needed my blame and bitterness. It made me feel more righteous, powerful, and whole than thinking I was at fault. The growth mindset allowed me to give up the blame and move on. The growth mindset gave me a mother.
I remember when we were kids and did something dumb, like drop our ice-cream cone on our foot, we’d turn to our friend and say “Look what you made me do.” Blame may make you feel less foolish, but you still have a shoe full of ice cream—and a friend who’s on the defensive. In a relationship, the growth mindset lets you rise above blame, understand the problem, and try to fix it—together.
In the fixed mindset, where you’ve got to keep proving your competence, it’s easy to get into a competition with your partner. Who’s the smarter, more talented, more likable one?
Susan had a boyfriend who worried that she would be the center of attention and he would be the tagalong. If she were someone, he would be no one. But Martin was far from no one. He was very successful, even revered, in his field. He was handsome and well liked, too. So at first Susan pooh-poohed the whole thing. Then they attended a conference together. They’d arrived separately and, in checking in, Susan had chatted with the friendly hotel staff in the lobby. That evening when the couple walked through the lobby, the whole staff greeted her warmly. Martin grunted. Next, they took a taxi to dinner. Toward the end of the ride, the driver started singing her praises: “You better hold on to her. Yes, sir, she’s a good one.” Martin winced. The whole weekend continued in this vein, and by the time they got home from the conference their relationship was very strained.
Martin wasn’t actively competitive. He didn’t try to outdo Susan, he just lamented her seemingly greater popularity. But some partners throw their hats right into the ring.
Cynthia, a scientist, was amazing at almost everything she did—so much so that she left her partners in the dust. That might have been all right if she didn’t always venture into their territory. She married an actor, and then started writing plays and acting in them—superbly. She said she was just trying to share his life and his interests, but her parttime hobby outshone his career. He felt he had to escape from the relationship to find himself again. Next, she married a musician who was a great cook, and ino time flat she was tickling the ivories and inventing unbelievable recipes. Once again, the depressed husband eventually fled. Cynthia left her partners no room for their own identity; she needed to equal or surpass them in every skill they arrived with.
There are many good ways to support our partners or show interest in their lives. This is not one of them.
When people embark on a relationship, they encounter a partner who is different from them, and they haven’t learned how to deal with the differences. In a good relationship, people develop these skills and, as they do, both partners grow and the relationship deepens. But for this to happen, people need to feel they’re on the same side.
Laura was lucky. She could be self-centered and defensive. She could yell and pout. But James never took it personally and always felt that she was there for him when he needed her. So when she lashed out, he calmed her down and made her talk things through with him. Over time, she learned to skip the yelling and pouting.
As an atmosphere of trust developed, they became vitally interested in each other’s development. James was forming a corporation, and Laura spent hours with him discussing his plans and some of the problems he was encountering. Laura had always dreamed of writing children’s books. James got her to spell out her ideas and write a first draft. He urged her to contact someone they knew who was an illustrator. In the context of this relationship, each partner was helping the other to do the things they wanted to do and become the person they wanted to be.
Not long ago, I was talking to a friend about the view some people hold of childrearing—that parents make little difference. In explaining that view, she likened it to a marriage relationship: “It’s like partners in a marriage. Each comes to the relationship fully formed, and you don’t expect to influence who the partner is.”
“Oh no,” I replied. “To me the whole point of marriage is to encourage your partner’s development and have them encourage yours.”
By that I didn’t mean a
Friendships, like partnerships, are places where we have a chance to enhance each other’s development, and to validate each other. Both are important. Friends can give each other the wisdom and courage to make growth- enhancing decisions, and friends can reassure each other of their fine qualities. Despite the dangers of praising traits, there are times when we need reassurance about ourselves: “Tell me I’m not a bad person for breaking up with my boyfriend.” “Tell me I’m not stupid even though I bombed on the exam.”
In fact, these occasions give us a chance to provide support and give a growth message: “You gave that relationship everything you had for three years and he made no effort to improve things. I think you’re right to move on.” Or “What happened on that exam? Do you understand the material? Did you study enough? Do you think you need a tutor? Let’s talk about it.”
But as in all relationships, people’s need to prove themselves can tilt the balance in the wrong direction. Sheri Levy did a study that was not about friendship, but makes an important and relevant point.
Levy measured adolescent boys’ self-esteem and then asked them how much they believed in negative stereotypes about girls. For example, how much did they believe that girls were worse in math or that girls were less rational than boys? She then measured their self-esteem again.
Boys who believed in the fixed mindset showed a boost in self-esteem when they endorsed the stereotypes. Thinking that girls were dumber and more scatterbrained made them feel better about themselves. (Boys with the growth mindset were less likely to agree with the stereotypes, but even when they did, it did not give them an ego boost.)
This mentality can intrude on friendships.
One day I was talking to a dear, wise friend. I was puzzled about why she put up with the behavior of some of her friends. Actually, I was puzzled about why she even had these friends. One often acted irresponsibly; another flirted shamelessly with her husband. Her answer was that everyone has virtues and foibles, and that, really, if you looked only for perfect people, your social circle would be impoverished. There was, however, one thing she would not put up with: People who made her feel bad about herself.
We all know these people. They can be brilliant, charming, and fun, but after being with them, you feel diminished. You may ask: “Am I just doing a number on myself?” But it is often them, trying to build themselves up by establishing their superiority and your inferiority. It could be by actively putting you down, or it could be by the careless way they treat you. Either way, you are a vehicle for (and a casualty of) confirming their worth.
I was at a friend’s fiftieth-birthday party and her sister gave a speech, supposedly in her honor. Her sister talked about my friend’s insatiable sexual appetite and how lucky it was she found a younger man to marry who could handle it. “All in good fun,” she took care of my friend’s looks, brains, and mothering skills. After this tribute, I suddenly recalled the saying “With friends like this, you don’t need enemies.”
It’s difficult to realize when friends don’t wish you well. One night I had the most vivid dream. Someone, someone I knew well, came into my house and one by one took all my prized possessions. In the dream I could see what was happening, but I couldn’t see who it was. At one point, I asked the intruder: “Couldn’t you please leave that one, it means a lot to me.” But the person just kept taking everything of value. The next morning I realized who it was and what it meant. For the past year a close friend had been calling upon me constantly to help him with his work. I obliged. He was under a great deal of stress, and I was at first happy to use whatever skills I had
