Unrelenting standards schema – Schema Therapy Blog

Unrelenting Standards Schema versus my long-distance-hiking accomplishments

I both love and hate my Unrelenting Standards Schema (perfectionism). It does bring mood and attitude problems into my life, but I would never want to entirely get rid of it due to the positive things that it also brings.

My perfectionism and attention to detail is sometimes key to my job success and the ensuing satisfaction that I get from feeling successful. I suspect that Unrelenting Standards is an extremely common maladaptive schema for people in technical disciplines like mine.

The problem is that people like me with an Unrelenting Standards Schema can be cranky on the job when imperfect company processes or less-competent coworkers hinder in any way their striving toward excellence. Yup, sometimes we’re simply trying too hard.

What’s wrong with trying too hard? Well… nothing really, morally speaking.

However, the reality of everyday life is that most things won’t usually be as perfect, high-quality or well-optimized as a perfectionist might like.

So, since life and other people never measure up to our expectations, a feeling of annoyance, frustration or “bitchiness” often characterizes how a person with an Unrelenting Standards Schema feels throughout the day, even when things are going rather OK.

The feeling is: “No matter how good I am, I can always do better. Everyone else could do better too, if only they cared more. Those who don’t meet these standards (including me) are failures.” So we end up disliking everyone, including ourselves, for those reasons.

People like me with an Unrelenting Standards Schema often carry that attitude of “workplace demands” and its accompanying dissatisfaction into their personal lives as well, unconsciously.

In my personal life, I do a lot of solo hiking in remote areas where few, if any, human footprints will be found. I do a lot of homework in preparation for these wilderness hikes since there are no trails to follow.

I don’t usually seek to reach the highest point of the mountain range like some hikers do, but I do seek to explore remote areas up close, the areas that the “peakbaggers” ignore.

Inevitably, the time comes during every day hike into a remote area to turn around and start walking back toward my starting location.

Detecting the Unrelenting Standards Schema

Now that I’m used to monitoring my thoughts and feelings, I’ve noticed that I often have a vague, negative feeling of failure in the back of my mind while hiking back to where I started.

On the one hand, though perhaps feeling a bit tired, I’m really enjoying the hike back—often with cooler air and reduced sunlight (or perhaps even magnificent moonlight)—while reveling in the greatness of the day’s explorations and discoveries.

On the other hand, the nagging, motherly, background script of my Unrelenting Standards Schema whispers repeatedly that “perhaps I could have seen even more, and enjoyed the hike even more, had I only persevered and hiked a little further, a little longer, over to the top of that next hill, or part of the way up that next rocky canyon, before turning around.”

I do find it sad how easily I can unconsciously diminish in this way some of the intense pleasure I’ve derived from a day of wilderness hiking. The background dissatisfaction is entirely self-inflicted, unproductive, and only an unfortunate result of my background experiences.

It’s a given that there will always be more that I could have seen if I hadn’t turned around—that’s the nature of wilderness. Wilderness is an endless target, all of which one will never see. Not reaching all of it doesn’t make anyone a failure in any way!

When I get these thoughts that maybe I didn’t hike far enough, despite having an awesome day, I stop, take in my wonderful surroundings, then remind myself that I have had a great day walking through wilderness, doing exactly what I set out to do, and that this is something that not everyone does, and which some people feel is downright scary or unattainable.

I don’t necessarily feel instantly perfect and 100% happy again after reminding myself that my day was indeed wonderful. However, with the aim of eliminating false negativity, I do immediately realize that I would be wrong to let myself believe that I’ve done anything less than really well on this great day.

How did I end up with an Unrelenting Standards Schema?

I’ve always tried too hard. So much of my childhood was filled with moments where I could only gain validation by showing how smart I could be. Otherwise, my feelings, tastes and desires as a child didn’t matter much.

This leads into a discussion of the closely related Emotional Deprivation Schema—that will be in another blog post.

Subjugation Schema – How I Ended Up Buying a Different Truck

I grew up under parents who mostly loved us, or at least tried, but they were heavy-handed when it came to punishment and verbal abuse. I grew up always fearing the next argument with my father, which could be at any moment and about anything, and fearing what kind of emotional or physical reprimands that next pointless argument might lead to.

The result is a Subjugation Schema that has run in the background throughout my adult life without my realizing it. I developed a knee-jerk reaction of feeling uncomfortable or intimidated by authority figures in any kind of situation: teachers, bosses, interviewers, friends with more knowledge about a particular subject than me, and even cashiers.

Instead of acting like a confident and whole person, I’ve often compensated for my discomfort by running away from interactions where I perceive myself as an unequal partner, or by being a bit aggressive or contrarian when there was no way to escape. If I couldn’t run away, sometimes I would just shut down and stop talking and listening while remaining physically present.

A few years ago, when I was buying a new truck, I saw my Subjugation Schema emerge in perfect form.

I wanted a particular special edition of a truck that would only be made that year. A limited number of these trucks were to be produced. I had never purchased a brand-new vehicle before, and it was after much research over several months that I finally decided to buy this particular truck.

My chosen dealership did have one of these trucks on order, but it hadn’t arrived yet. No other dealerships in my area had one, and none of them had one on order.

When I visited my dealership, the low-pressure salesperson suggested that I could put down a refundable deposit so that I could have the on-order truck at the quoted price when it would arrive a few weeks later.

I balked at the salesperson’s helpful offer of letting me reserve the truck I wanted. I left the dealership that day with the intention of returning a week or two later when the truck was supposed to arrive. As I had done so many times before, I was running away from the fear of subjugation to an authority figure, instead of dealing with the details of the situation at face value.

Putting down a deposit would have ensured that I get what I wanted, but I was felt too intimidated and couldn’t allow myself to follow a knowledgeable salesperson’s recommendation—even if it was exactly what needed to be done.

Even if a friend had recommended that I follow the salesperson’s advice in order to get what I wanted, I probably couldn’t have allowed myself to follow their instructions either.

My Mistrust Schema also comes equally into play here, since I had background fears that maybe something negative and unanticipated might happen with the transaction only partially completed. Perhaps I would be taken advantage of in some way.

The Subjugation Schema and Mistrust/Abuse Schema walk hand-in-hand in situations like these throughout my life. These days, I recognize them and can even laugh about it sometimes, but I wasn’t always aware of their influence.

A week later, I revisited the dealership to see if “my” truck had arrived. It hadn’t.

By then, I was almost over my fear of subjugation enough to put down a deposit, but it was too late. Someone else had already made a deposit and reserved the truck, like I could have done.

So… the truck I wanted would not be mine, thanks to fears I couldn’t confront or get past.

However… the dealership had just received a similar truck the day before, equally desirable, in a version with slightly fewer options. I looked at it, took it for a test drive, was impressed, and bought it on the spot.

I love this durable truck and have been happily driving it on all kinds of rough terrain for several years now. It’s one of the best purchases I’ve ever made, despite whatever doubts I had at the time.

Looking back, I’m glad my Unrelenting Standards Schema didn’t kick in as it often does. It could have stopped me from buying this great truck just because it was not exactly my first choice.

My Unrelenting Standards Schema makes it easy to dismiss excellent alternatives as undesirable and second-best when I become unnecessarily fussy about adhering to a specific preconceived “perfect” goal.

In the end, my Subjugation Schema prevented me from getting the exact truck I initially wanted, and it could have prevented me from getting any truck at all. I’m glad I didn’t allow that to happen. I’m glad I stepped in and broke through the maladaptive schemas and happily bought a truck that fit my desires.

Unrelenting Standards Schema, Entitlement Schema and Emotional Inhibition Schema: a schema cocktail example

The interplay of one’s own maladaptive schemas can be interesting to watch.

Recently, I attended a live concert at a very small venue by one of my favorite bands. This was the first time I had seen this band live and they were much better live than I was expecting. To my surprise, I enjoyed their live music even more than their recorded music, which I already liked enough to play often. I was elated by the performance, the crowd, and the overall energy by the time it all ended late in the evening.

Because the venue and crowd were small, the band announced that they would be available after the performance to chat with anyone wishing to do so, over by the bar.

My first thought was that it would be interesting to chat with the band since I’ve been inspired and cheered on by so many of their anthem-like lyrics and know many of them by heart, but I didn’t feel like waiting in a line up of fans just to say a few words to them when I also wanted to be heading home for the night. It was already late and I would have to get up early for work the next morning.

After going to the washroom, ready to leave the venue, I noticed that my friend was walking away from the band where they were seated. It turned out that he had just spoken to them briefly, passing on a few compliments, while I was in the washroom.

It looked like a few more people were waiting to chat with the band, and I didn’t feel like waiting around any longer, so my friend and I proceeded to leave.

As we walked down the street, he told me about what he said to the band. I was glad to be on my way home, but had a vague feeling that I had just missed out on something important to me. I told my friend a bit about how I felt, but I didn’t make a big deal about it, minimizing my truly felt feelings.

He suggested, “You know, we can turn around and go back inside for a few minutes so you could chat with them,” but I replied something like, “Nah, I think I would want to have something specific to say to them—not just, ‘Hey, I like your music’—and I haven’t given any forethought as to what exactly I would say that would be meaningful.”

Enter the Unrelenting Standards Schema

We continued our walk back to the truck and it started to occur to me that I had some maladaptive schemas playing out here.

I was beginning to realize that I really had been wanting to speak to the band, but was being dishonest with myself, unconsciously using my Unrelenting Standards as an excuse to not do so, to deprive myself of the experience. I had been telling myself that, since I couldn’t think of the precise, correct thing that I wanted to say, it wasn’t worth speaking to the band at all, as much as I would have really enjoyed that.

Looking back, that’s simply self-delusion. Even if I had not been able to think of the perfect thing to say to the band, speaking to them would have been intensely satisfying. After all, I’ve been practically worshiping some of their lyrics for years. Why would I not be thrilled to speak to the folks who wrote them and look into their eyes during the conversation?

It’s useless for me to feel that a conversation with them must be somehow perfect in order to be meaningful to me or them. They are the performers here and I really enjoyed what they did tonight for us fans—there’s no need for me to consider a possible conversation with them as a performance of my own.

Enter the Entitlement Schema

People who know me well know that I hate waiting in lines, so I rarely do that. There are restaurants that appeal to me that I will probably never visit due to the long lines in front of them.

My entitlement schema dictates that I simply shouldn’t have to put up with long lines in order to experience something. It rarely ends up depriving me of anything super-special, but in this case, a longish wait would have been warranted. And the line wasn’t really all that long.

In this case, had I been more flexible and able to let go of my general feeling of entitlement regarding waiting in long lines, I might have experienced some special moments in my life that I chose to miss.

Enter the Emotional Inhibition Schema

An Emotional Inhibition Schema infers that one suppresses self-expression to some degree out of fear of losing control of one’s emotions. I’ve learned that part of me is like that.

What if I became overly joyful and ecstatic upon speaking to the band? Perhaps I’d feel embarrassed by my enthusiasm if I let go completely and said things to the band that were too supportive or too personal or too unfocused. I might say things that could break my vision of myself as a highly rational, analytical and focused individual.

I might get overexcited. I might be embarrassed by the fact that the friend I was with that evening saw me overexcited. Had I attended this concert without my friend, I might have been a bit more comfortable speaking to the band, since nobody I know would have witnessed my overexcitedness.

Subjugation Schema too?

My Subjugation Schema runs deep, even deeper than most other schemas. I don’t merely respond to stimuli, I feel like I’m obligated to respond. Or, I countercompensate and refuse to respond in rebellion, reacting to the “subjugating” stimulus nonetheless.

In this context, the “instruction” was for any interested fans to meet back by the bar to speak with the band once the show was over.

As much as I wanted to meet the band in person, I unconsciously disliked the idea of being a sheep-like fan who would do whatever the band suggested.

In this case, my Subjugation Schema won and I lost. I lost out on the opportunity to speak in person with a band that I admired so much, partly because I didn’t like feeling “ordered” to meet them at the back of the bar like a mere mortal.

It wasn’t worth it

I’m getting better at identifying my maladaptive schemas and refusing to fall prey to them when they take hold, but, this time, they won. I picked up on it after the event had passed. I missed the opportunity to connect more deeply with this band that I admire so much.

The first couple of days following the concert, I found myself thinking about the greatness of attending the show and reliving certain moments of it in my head.

However, during the days after that, I found myself thinking about my missed opportunity to chat with the band. Thinking more, I’ve managed to decipher it all in terms of maladaptive schemas.

The overall feeling is essentially one of regret, except that I don’t believe in regret. Instead, whenever I think I might be feeling regret, I seek to understand why I made the choices I made at the time of the “regretted moment,” rather than merely lament the choices that weren’t made.

Now I understand which schemas were in play when I chose to not linger at the venue and chat with the band after the show, passing up on what could have been a memorable happiness-enhancing moment.

Hopefully, the next time I’m in a similar situation, I’ll detect my schemas at work sooner and choose differently.