If Ego Is the Enemy, So Is Your Tendency to Exaggerate

Exaggeration is one of the core features of perfectionism and, more broadly, of obsessiveness. The neutral is exaggerated along with the objectively good and bad. When hearing about a patient’s conflicts and trials, therapists, at some point, may ask, “How much of this has you in it, whether your manifest contribution or interpretation?”

With the space to reflect, some discover how their minds inform the drama of their lives. They may recognize that something they said was insensitive or that they completely misunderstood the intent of something done to them. Deeper, they may note a chronic pattern of perceiving their lives in extremes and finding so much meaning in the smallest elements.

Exaggeration is evident in body dysmorphia, an emotional ailment marked by a fixation on one’s real or perceived physical flaws. Interestingly, it goes both ways. When comparing themselves to someone they believe to be aesthetically superior, the individual’s flaws are heightened while the purportedly superior one’s flaws are minimized (with the accompanying act of glamorizing their positive traits). Conversely, when comparing to someone they believe to be aesthetically inferior, the opposite is true: They magnify their positive traits, and the others’ flaws are seen to disqualify them altogether. Comparison, here, may be the thief of joy but also its harbinger. Most importantly, it’s, arguably, meaningless—distorted and disconnected from anything we could call reality.

Things either seem wonderful or terrible. We’re either hated or loved… stupid or brilliant. So, you can probably imagine how a perfectionist, whether preoccupied with morality, professional success, or their appearance, becomes fixated. The perfectionist is a dreamer in the ultimate sense, plagued by both nightmares and fantasies, which seldom come true. Exaggeration provides meaning, continuity, importance, and relief. It’s a relief from boredom, loneliness, apathy, a sense of one’s own insignificance, and even anxiety, as exaggerated flaws may help propel the perfectionist to rush to fix them. But, more so than not, it’s the cause of a significant amount of chronic distress.

Without labeling it as such, exaggeration is closely associated with addiction. We chase the highs of success, magnifying them by our comparisons; if our flaws are so terrible, then overcoming them must be amazing. I strongly believed that being a great writer would make me happy and, finally, able to appreciate myself. Regardless of where and how often I’ve been published, my work is always forgotten, replaced by another. When published, I tell myself that I’ve arrived, and things will be different, substantially better. And when in a slump, I think it will never end. But neither is true. The former sets me up for immense disappointment, and the latter motivates me to try harder and protect myself from further disappointment. (Optimism and Defensive Pessimism are coping strategies.)

Interestingly, however, whether I’m a great writer or not is only somewhat associated with the fruits of my labor. Due to the hyper-competitive and always-changing information landscape, the rewards for most, if not all, of us are few and far between. Nothing really stands the test of time.

Here, rigidity and exaggeration work hand in hand, acting as the foundations of some ultimate proof. We hear of it when award winners note how little their lives change after, even after winning an Oscar, having expected them to. So, I’m left asking myself: Why do I tend to exaggerate or, in this case, idealize? To me, arrival means security, excitement, respect, and, most importantly, self-esteem—all of which conflict with each other. Arrival implies a fixed end, where the instability of my life hardens as though it were clay, easily manipulated by brilliant hands. Through power or control, I erroneously attempt to cultivate peace. And that’s my biggest mistake, because the two are diametrically opposed.

Genuine peace implies owning those exaggerations and my expectations. It implies finding a way to live with my limitations and to stop asking, chronically, “Is this all there is?” As an addict seeks help when they’re ready, the exaggerator does so when they acknowledge how much of their suffering stems from their mind. It’s true that none of this exists in a vacuum, so accompanying these tendencies may be a bipolar disorder or cyclothymic disorder. There may be a long history of familial expectations, especially in the context of poverty and giftedness, where the child is considered to be the family’s hope of survival, catapulting them to a higher plateau. And there may be a history of bullying, where success, in whatever form, implies a final victory against both the external bullies and internal ones.

All of this matters. And, seeing how your tendency to exaggerate influences your life is just one element. With that said, it’s important to consider whether you can and should try to corral it, or at least understand it. While your negative comparisons to others motivate you, do they ever contribute to you achieving anything sustainable? Is your tendency to idealize and project yourself into the future only bringing you closer to a largely similar reality, but with wasted years? Can anything outside of you make you happy? If so, then how? And does anything outside of you ever make you who you are?

While some of us become upset when others become frustrated with us, we who keep rejecting their answers can also remind ourselves that their frustration stems from our unwillingness to see what’s obvious to them. Obviously, our exaggerations prevent us from seeing.