Brave New Kitty

Overcoming a Dysfunctional Litter

They Did the Best They Could…Or Did They?

I hear people say “they did the best they could” a lot, usually in a hands thrown up, what can you do? kind of reference to narcissistic parents or siblings who treat them disrespectfully and aren’t willing to change. The implication is that these people needn’t be held accountable for the hurtful things they did (and often still do), and that not holding them accountable is how you forgive them. This is the wrong use of this phrase, and a great example of a tragic misunderstanding that keeps us stuck in unhealthy relationships.

It’s a tough problem. “They did the best they could” sounds good; it feels soothing and hopeful coming out of our mouths; it implies that we’ve reached an appealing level of acceptance and forgiveness. So we get to see ourselves as growing and spiritual people, and we also get to avoid unpleasant conversations and difficult boundary-setting with the people who are hurting us. Used incorrectly, “they did the best they could” allows us the illusion that people who treat us badly can’t control themselves, and that we are wrong and bad to want otherwise.

But of course, we do want otherwise, and no amount of pretending we don’t will ever change that. A child wanting her parents’ love and respect is the most natural thing in the world—and this is perhaps the biggest reason why it’s so easy to fall into the “they did the best they could” trap: doing so lets us avoid acknowledging the deeply buried grief naturally accompanying any childhood that brings us to the point of having to say “they did the best they could.” In other words, if we have to say it, then we have to deal with how our parents’ narcissism affected us—and continues to affect us.

When we get into recovery, we work so hard to develop mutually supportive relationships with people. If we then go back to our families and allow ourselves to be treated disrespectfully, it’s soooo damaging to our spirit. In large part, this is due to the irrationality of the exception we make: They don’t know any better. Or I only have to put up with it once in awhile…or whatever. However you rationalize people’s behavior, if it doesn’t come from a respectful place, then it’s not good for you and it’s not okay, whether or not they’re related to you. If respectful relationships are important to you, then you have an inalienable human right to require that all your personal relationships meet a minimum level of mutual respect and kindness. Period.

It’s a hard thing to do: demand respect and set boundaries and force change onto people who are probably going to resist it vehemently. We may not think the effort is worth it, and this can be easy to rationalize if we think it’s just about us. But there is another, equally important reason to demand respectful relationships from all the people in your life, and it is this: holding people accountable is the most loving thing you can do for them.

Holding people accountable for their behavior is the most loving, respectful way to interact with them, whether they appreciate it or not. It is the very essence of forgiveness because without it, there is no willingness, no impetus, no desire, and no real (that is, unselfish) love. Having an empty, one-sided relationship with a narcissist is not good for either of you: it saps your spirit, and it doesn’t give him an opportunity to do things differently. In short, if you want to do the most loving thing, you will have to set boundaries and have honest conversations. Ugh. But there is no other way.

There’s no talking yourself out of it, either. It’s true that narcissists typically behave as they do because they are emotionally undeveloped, and in that sense, they did indeed “do the best they could.” But it’s not a can’t, it’s a won’t. Everybody is capable of the simple behavioral changes that respectfulness requires. However, because of their strong personalities, addictions, passive-aggressiveness, ragefulness, or victim mentality (or whatever brand of dysfunction that goes on in your particular case), they’ve kept themselves conveniently out of pushing range. But here’s the thing to remember: when you understand this, it becomes your responsibility, as a compassionate human being, to push them a little, at least as far as you’re concerned. Setting boundaries with someone is like giving them multiple precious gifts: your caring, your honesty, your respect, your trust, your unselfish love, your willingness to do the right thing. If you understand this responsibility, and choose not to offer these gifts, then you likely have some of your own issues to deal with: fear, narcissism, or a mixture of both.

People may or may not change; that’s not up to you. It’s also not terribly relevant, because you are only responsible for your end of the exchange. Also, if you make the request/demand for respectful treatment and are refused, then you have the responsibility to change the way you connect with that person (which can sometimes mean no connection at all). Not doing so is like saying respect is optional, and it isn’t.

You can forgive people whether or not they change, but allowing yourself to be treated disrespectfully isn’t about forgiveness, it’s about avoidance. Letting people treat you poorly in the name of “they did the best they could” or even worse, “they’re doing the best they can,” is a dishonest, fundamentally childish way to avoid an uncomfortable responsibility that falls on the shoulders of people who pursue a higher calling. Don’t do it. Speak up for yourself, even if your voice shakes, and make the Universe a little bit better place to live in (because doing the right thing always does). Only when we understand that “they did the best they could” is not an excuse for putting up with disrespect does it begin to take on its true meaning: yes, they did do the best they could, but it just wasn’t very good, and it hurt us. That’s the sad truth, and that truth needs to be addressed because if it isn’t, it denigrates the true spirit of forgiveness and keeps us—and our narcissistic relationship cohorts—in a chronic state of ikkiness.

When you take care of yourself, you also take care of everyone around you. Once you understand this, you will no longer use “they did the best they could” to avoid responsibility to those you love, but rather, as a way to help them along their path. We can’t change other people, but we can change the world by changing our little corner of it one self-defeating behavior at a time.

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