Why do I crave recognition?
Why do I crave recognition?
The tension between ambition, connection, and individual needs.
Where does my ambition end and my intense longing to be understood in even a single conversation begin?
Is being unable to speak around any amount of people yet still having visions of greatness a sign of being in the wrong environment or straight-up delusion?
Am I putting myself out there in order to center others or seek recognition for myself by way of centering others?
These clunky sentences have been bouncing around the lotto number picker inside my skull during my early weeks of self-employment. Barely removed from my autistic-burnout-inducing work environment, I am already back to believing that I can and will build big things. This autonomy and confidence feels amazing, but it has me wondering how my drive returned so quickly, where it has been all this time, and, ultimately, what fuels it.
My father said he was proud of me once a few years back, so it can’t be him I’m trying to prove something to, right? RIGHT?! Let’s table this can of worms for now.
The roots of my ambition are not just about building things—it’s about finding people who might share my wavelength and truly see me. This search has often drawn me toward what might be seen as “prestigious” circles, where the “best” “people” are doing the “best” “work.” I imagine I’ll finally meet others who share my quirks and sense of humor, but the reality of these spaces has often fallen flat. Now, I happily dispense similar advice to people on Reddit: “Have you tried finding like-minded people?”
My therapist and I have a theory that I self-select into prestigious things with the hope I will meet people like me and feel understood. In practice the more elite people I’ve fraternized with have been self-centered and not as into saying silly things as me. Also: I’m hardly an elite person myself. I went to public schools. I wear clothes I bought cheaply 5-10 years ago. I keep my spending low to allow me to be free from a 9-5 for more years. And I enjoy living in the big city because of the buildings and the sense of existing at the center of something.
I’ve written briefly about the leadership program I was chosen for in 2019, which corresponded with the beginning of my mental health crisis. This felt like the first time I was recognized outside of my small technical circles. Then I walked into the cohort, connected with no one, and felt quiet for months of programming. A core tenet in the program was that change happens in groups. Regardless of whether I agree intellectually or not, what does it mean that, to be able to use my brain, I must act on my own? No change? Or just no recognition? I choose to reject this restrictive definition of ambition.
I understand the counterargument to this would be pursuing a quieter, more locally impactful form of ambition. I will care for and empower those around me. This motivates my writing in this newsletter and my work at From Scratch Code. If I spend time sharing my work, I will reach more people whom I can mentor on their software journey. I do believe this, but I must acknowledge there’s a piece of external recognition I’m seeking at the same time. I just hope that doesn’t invalidate the parts where I actually help people.
Another theory is that I’m driven by the dissonance I feel interacting with people during day-to-day life. I feel similar social dynamics in my summer softball league as I did at holiday gatherings with my extended family as a wee lad. I am the quiet observer watching everyone talk, often while saying the opposite of what they mean. “People” say they like humor and then don’t laugh at what I say, if they even hear me. “People” say they like meeting people and then don’t ask me a single thing about myself. “People” say they like learning and then let their eyes glaze over when I describe something I recently learned. In my narrative, “people” are full of shit. It’s as though social interactions have become scripts to follow, where the words rarely match the underlying meaning. Hence my urge to run away screaming or only speak in satire. “Look Ma! I can say generic opinions too!”
That’s an angry paragraph. Interpersonal experiences, especially in groups, have shaped my understanding of the world to be a place that recognizes style over substance. How much of my drive is based on wanting to show that my values have merit? Perhaps I’m looking for validation of my worldview even more than individual accomplishments.
How this plays out in my technical work, where substance is appreciated, is another lens into my brain. My story of creation, the one found in my personal Genesis, goes like this: I work for 6 days on hard things and on day 7 I rest by asking my therapist why I try to impress by doing hard things. (My current hard thing is my interpreter project and developing advanced Rust courses.) My brain feels satisfied when I go deep into a topic and I love connecting with others over that understanding. At the same time, I wonder if this is having the opposite effect on my goal of connecting with others. I choose to work on things that few others are doing so that when I eventually meet the few others on my “supposed level,” we’ll connect so deeply that it will fill the hole inside of me. You don’t have to be a licensed therapist to see the precarity in that thinking, yet it still shapes my days and the arc of my career.
Society often implies that leaving the workforce and finding ways to meet your own financial needs are marks of failure, while ambitious creative goals, like writing a memoir, are celebrated. We expect ambition and success come with monetary rewards—to those able to cope with the social structures we have erected. By this scale, it's unclear whether I am succeeding or failing. I’ve snidely considered using this line if I ever take a job interview again: I believe I can do anything I put my mind to, but probably not with you—or anyone else really. Perhaps my true ambition lies not in choosing big goals over individual needs and capacities, but in validating that both are worthy in their own ways.
I have few answers here. I crave genuine connection with others and my brain latches deeply onto problems. I believe when I act with autonomy and without fear, I can produce amazing work. I can use this work to educate and empower those who share my values. Is there also a way to feel seen and connected along the way? Let me go work on a hard thing and I’ll get back to you.
Elsewhere
In addition to my writing here, I also mentor software engineers in a fun and supportive environment.
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