Would You Rather Wanted to Be or Wanted to Be With?

Anthony Bourdain became an idea to millions of people: adventurous, intelligent, curious, fearless the kind of person many wished to become. But when you admire someone deeply enough, do you stop imagining them as someone who could be lonely, insecure, fragile, or simply in need of company? Can you still see the person beneath the pedestal? And most importantly: Can imagine yourself understanding them when they are at their lowest?

PSYCHOLOGYPERSONAL BLOG

8/22/20265 min read

When we think of love and admiration, we simply think, “Oh, I want to be seen. I want to be admired. I want to be loved by everyone.” But everyone not only for romantic interests, but also for friendships and for public figure. Not only does it not make any sense from many perspectives, but in some ways, we often forget the part that someone can love you, someone can admire you, someone can see you, but just not want to be around you or can’t imagine themselves within your company.

Maybe they just admire you as a sculpture: They look, they get fascinated, but they don’t have the temptation to feel your aliveness. They are just mesmerized.

At that point, my example jumps in: Anthony Bourdain. If you follow social media, there is a huge trend going on about how to be distinguished, how to live up to your full potential, etc. etc. the same old tales. And one of the major faces of this trend is Anthony Bourdain (R.I.P.) himself. When you search for what he accomplished, you just go ahead and say, “Wow, that man is perfect. I want to be like him. Look what he has done.” But the question is: is it?

To make things even easier, we might say there are two kinds of admiration.

First, The Aspirational Figure (“I want to BE you”):

You aspire to their trajectory. You admire them in a way that you see them as a better version of humankind. Think of Tony Stark. You want to be like Tony Stark. He is a genius, he is tactful, intelligent, etc., etc.

And The Relational Figure (“I want to BE WITH you”): there are people like Megan Fox. I assume, depending on who you are, if you are a man, you’d probably want to date her; if you are a girl, you’d probably want to be friends with her. She is stunning, cool, fun, etc. But you don’t necessarily want to be her (I assume). She isn’t as smart as Tony Stark, she isn’t as independent as him, and you probably don’t aspire for her to be in the Forbes 100. No, you just want to spend time with her (I assume).

The psychological friction begins when someone is trapped entirely in the first category.

When you subconsciously put an individual on a pedestal, a mechanism known as idealization takes over. Your brain constructs a cognitive bias where you assume they are superior in almost every metric.The people you want to be, you subconsciously put on a pedestal. They are the things you want to achieve, a phrase you couldn’t say but they would, a friend that always backs everyone up, a smarty who knows every right answer. Even though they are technically not, you just assume that they are better than almost everyone in almost everything. You see them as a sculpture.

Psychology has a few ways of describing parts of this process: idealization, projection, upward social comparison, and the self-discrepancy effect. We take qualities that we desire in ourselves and begin to see them concentrated in another person. They become everything that we think we are not. room and somehow belongs there. And slowly, the brain starts filling in the gaps. We assume that because someone possesses exceptional talent, success, or poise, they must also possess an unshakeable inner life. In our minds, a statue doesn’t cry. A statue doesn’t have a bad day, feel insecure, or crave a simple hug. And so, without realizing it, we strip them of their humanity.

The caste system of your brain works perfectly. Even though reality doesn’t show evidence that you are inferior, your brain tends to do proofreads that they are perfect and you are not, and the effect of idealization even gets bigger and bigger. You don’t know what to do, you don’t know how to talk, you assume that they are out of this world. You idolize them so hard that you forget that they are a person as well.

In one of the episodes, when Eric told Anthony, “You inspire a lot of people. You have good karma,” rather than acknowledging it, he asked it with some kind of disbelief in his voice, as if to say, “You really think so?” He knew that people loved him. At any place in the world he could go to some café, sit, and eventually talk with people. He was earning his money in that way: by connecting with people, making documentaries all around the world, and being a hero in almost every viewer’s mind. But he was also aware that they wouldn’t understand his own struggles. Maybe not beacuse they wouldn’t wan to but because they just can’t reconcile the idea of them going through something like that with the image you have of them.

It is like Jay Gatsby. Gatsby eventually stops being a person and becomes an idea. Hundreds of people flock to his mansion, reveling in his wealth and mythos. People don’t really know him; they know the mythology surrounding him: his parties, his money, his mystery. He becomes whatever everyone needs him to be. Yet, when Gatsby dies, almost none of those guests attend his funeral. They wanted to be near his shine, but no one actually wanted to know the fragile man behind the curtain.

As human beings, people need to feel some sort of connection. Sometimes they need to feel that it is acknowledged by others that they are humans as well. Sometimes they just want to be hugged, to cry. Most importantly, when you desperately need empathy, company, or a safe space to be imperfect, being handed applause instead of genuine companionship feels like starving at a banquet. But for other people, it is distant from reality because they don’t see any logic in a statue crying. Everything should be good up there. How can they feel lonely? How can they feel trapped? They are living the life.

Think of Anthony’s perspective: you go there, try to speak with people, and they are putting him on a pedestal. But in Anthony’s mind, it is total nonsense that people do that. At the end of the day, he is himself a human. He makes mistakes. Yes, he lives a life maybe above some standards, but does this fact take away his rights to being a human, having imperfections, sometimes bragging, sometimes being humble, and even not liking himself? Does the fact that he worked hard and achieved some kinds of success make him totally unfragile? Do we have the right to judge a person’s own problems just because he is better than us in some ways? Isn’t that some kind of hatred, some kind of jealousy as well?

Put yourself in Anthony’s perspective, for example. As normal, when you feel the urge to cry, when you need to share something, you need someone else. As humans we are all social beings. You look at the people you think you would feel peace around, people that even you yourself had admired. You go near them, you speak with them, but you can feel the tension between yourself and them, as if they are not there for you but for themselves more specifically, to prove something of their own. To prove that they themselves are worthy of your conversation. You feel watched within every step of yours, as if they were a detective who had their eyes on every step, every breath you take not to harm you or to do something to you. They just aspire to you from a distance. It sounds like something that is nice, as if you inspire them. Yes, that’s right: you somehow inspire them. But when that person was your hero, all your own inferior complexes break down. You think of all the times you have been harsh on yourself, and all you can ever think of is pure disappointment. You start to feel distant from every person you can interact with. You feel that they feel the distance as well. The burden of your need to be understood comes even heavier. You don’t need to be adored at that specific time; you just need people to want to be around you. Sometimes you want to learn from them. You need to feel fragile, and you need company. But when you look around, you just see people who want your life, your experiences.

Believe it or not, this pedestal is felt by both sides: as an inferiority complex with you and as loneliness with him. Maybe that was the problem with Anthony. Maybe not. We don’t know. But all we know is that he unfortunately took his own life.

Now I want to ask you the same

question: "Would you like to be adored?"

Contact

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Email

irem.kalender@ug.bilkent.edu.tr