Part 1: The Absence of Praise
Begin with the emptiness itself.
Baby Maureen wasn’t praised for existing, only for not being a burden.
It’s a particular kind of void.
Not active cruelty, but silence, and it shapes a person differently than outright abuse.
Absence is its own presence. Don’t you love it? A paradox! Like what you see when you pull up to the two docks at the end of the Jungle Boat ride at Disneyland.
Ba-dum-tsss!
How is absence its own presence, Mrs. Odie (the student would ask if students asked questions nowadays–outside of pleas to escape: Can I go to the bathroom? Can I get water? Can I go outside and blow my nose? Can I get away from YOU???)?
Mrs. Odie is my husband’s mother. Call me Maureen. Ms. Stuart if you’re nasty.
Absence is its own presence in what it teaches the child.
Little red-haired baby Maureen was taught that to be good is to disappear. Praise is a fool’s errand. But she can avoid frowns, exaggerated pursed lips, and ironic eye contact. Disappear. To not be noticed is to be approved of.
Part II Adolescence: Praise shifts to desire
“The Summer I turned pretty” triggers a trauma response in my body. When silence turned to attention, it wasn’t admiration but sexualization. Sexy is not about you, it’s about them. It’s the praise that serves the viewer, not the praised.
I came home from my first day of 9th grade, middle school in the 1980s, distraught. I have no friends. Nobody likes me. Cool Girl asked me to sit with her lunch group out of pity, not friendship. The third time I paced by her in the quad with no place to land, she extended pity, not acceptance. I perched on the edge of the hard bench taut like a bird ready to take flight. I ate nothing.
“How was your first day!” The tone warned me to placate then vanish, but I couldn’t. I’d used up all of my social energy pretending to be aloof, disinterested, above-it-all.
“Terrible! I have no friends. Nobody likes me. I’m completely alone.”
Ring! Ring!
It was for me. It was Total Chad. I’m speechless.
“I remember a time not too long ago when you would have given anything for Total Chad to call, and now he’s on the phone!” She is triumphant. She has evidence to impeach my testimony.
I still remember that phone call because it distorted my internal compass. From then on out, instead of seeking affirmation of worth, I sought evidence of wanting.
Part III The Long Middle: 30 years of hunger
The longing to be seen as “pretty” isn’t shallow when it’s the only available language of worth. It’s the breadcrumb trail to a deeper need, the one that was never named, much less met.
Total Chad wasn’t my only gentleman caller. There were dozens of greasy boys leering, poking, pinching. To a child, it’s all just attention. I’ve always been part of the Attention Economy.
Part IV The Glimmers: Teachers Who Saw the Mind
A handful of teachers did recognize my intellect.
How bright those flashes were! And how rare. I thought the scarcity of bright approving looks meant I wasn’t exceptional enough, when in fact those teachers were just too busy or too middling to see what what was in front of them. The fault wasn’t in the stars or in myself. It was in the architecture of the world around me.
Part V The Revelation: Redefining Praise
In my twenties, I couldn’t name exactly why “sexy” felt like such faint praise. I came to hate the word. In my forties, I could finally name the feeling. Sexy was always about someone else’s hunger.
Intelligent (original, brilliant) is about my existence. Praise isn’t a luxury, it’s a form of nourishment. And deprivation has consequences.
Part VI The Present: Becoming the Praiser
This knowledge now shapes the way I teach, mother, write, and build worlds. I notice the exceptional and name it aloud. I feed others the thing I was starved of, and in doing so I feed myself too.
External Overwhelm (AKA “We are all mailmen now”) is another post altogether. This is about internal absence. Together, they start to sketch the bigger project hiding underneath, how modern life collides with our most ancient psychological needs.
The bigger project is coming. This is the prologue.
The Friendly Pedant by Mrs. Odie
The Search for Praise: External overwhelm, internal absence
Part 1: The Absence of Praise
Begin with the emptiness itself.
Baby Maureen wasn’t praised for existing, only for not being a burden.
It’s a particular kind of void.
Not active cruelty, but silence, and it shapes a person differently than outright abuse.
Absence is its own presence. Don’t you love it? A paradox! Like what you see when you pull up to the two docks at the end of the Jungle Boat ride at Disneyland.
Ba-dum-tsss!
How is absence its own presence, Mrs. Odie (the student would ask if students asked questions nowadays–outside of pleas to escape: Can I go to the bathroom? Can I get water? Can I go outside and blow my nose? Can I get away from YOU???)?
Mrs. Odie is my husband’s mother. Call me Maureen. Ms. Stuart if you’re nasty.
Absence is its own presence in what it teaches the child.
Little red-haired baby Maureen was taught that to be good is to disappear. Praise is a fool’s errand. But she can avoid frowns, exaggerated pursed lips, and ironic eye contact. Disappear. To not be noticed is to be approved of.
Part II Adolescence: Praise shifts to desire
“The Summer I turned pretty” triggers a trauma response in my body. When silence turned to attention, it wasn’t admiration but sexualization. Sexy is not about you, it’s about them. It’s the praise that serves the viewer, not the praised.
I came home from my first day of 9th grade, middle school in the 1980s, distraught. I have no friends. Nobody likes me. Cool Girl asked me to sit with her lunch group out of pity, not friendship. The third time I paced by her in the quad with no place to land, she extended pity, not acceptance. I perched on the edge of the hard bench taut like a bird ready to take flight. I ate nothing.
“How was your first day!” The tone warned me to placate then vanish, but I couldn’t. I’d used up all of my social energy pretending to be aloof, disinterested, above-it-all.
“Terrible! I have no friends. Nobody likes me. I’m completely alone.”
Ring! Ring!
It was for me. It was Total Chad. I’m speechless.
“I remember a time not too long ago when you would have given anything for Total Chad to call, and now he’s on the phone!” She is triumphant. She has evidence to impeach my testimony.
I still remember that phone call because it distorted my internal compass. From then on out, instead of seeking affirmation of worth, I sought evidence of wanting.
Part III The Long Middle: 30 years of hunger
The longing to be seen as “pretty” isn’t shallow when it’s the only available language of worth. It’s the breadcrumb trail to a deeper need, the one that was never named, much less met.
Total Chad wasn’t my only gentleman caller. There were dozens of greasy boys leering, poking, pinching. To a child, it’s all just attention. I’ve always been part of the Attention Economy.
Part IV The Glimmers: Teachers Who Saw the Mind
A handful of teachers did recognize my intellect.
How bright those flashes were! And how rare. I thought the scarcity of bright approving looks meant I wasn’t exceptional enough, when in fact those teachers were just too busy or too middling to see what what was in front of them. The fault wasn’t in the stars or in myself. It was in the architecture of the world around me.
Part V The Revelation: Redefining Praise
In my twenties, I couldn’t name exactly why “sexy” felt like such faint praise. I came to hate the word. In my forties, I could finally name the feeling. Sexy was always about someone else’s hunger.
Intelligent (original, brilliant) is about my existence. Praise isn’t a luxury, it’s a form of nourishment. And deprivation has consequences.
Part VI The Present: Becoming the Praiser
This knowledge now shapes the way I teach, mother, write, and build worlds. I notice the exceptional and name it aloud. I feed others the thing I was starved of, and in doing so I feed myself too.
External Overwhelm (AKA “We are all mailmen now”) is another post altogether. This is about internal absence. Together, they start to sketch the bigger project hiding underneath, how modern life collides with our most ancient psychological needs.
The bigger project is coming. This is the prologue.
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About Mrs Odie
Friendly Pedant; Humble Genius