In therapy yesterday, I was getting really upset. Crying. Something in my current life was triggering a painful memory from my childhood. My therapist said, “You’re hitting a time capsule,” and she was right. The conversation brought up an experience I’d had at age 9.

We might get hit with time capsules left and right at various times of the year. At a time when old habits can re-emerge for people, and we can even regress into old family roles, I revisited a favorite Anxious Achiever conversation with Kathleen Smith, PhD about Bowen family systems theory. Smith is a writer, therapist, and associate faculty member at the Bowen Center for the Study of the Family.

One of the most important principles in Bowen family systems theory is called “differentiation of self.” In simplest terms, it refers to the ability to think and act independently while staying connected to others. Differentiation goes back to your family roots. People who are less differentiated from their family have trouble separating themselves from the emotions and wants and needs of their family. The emotional boundaries between themselves and others are porous—if their mom is sad or anxious, they get sad and anxious, too—and thus they live more at the mercy of feelings, theirs as well as other peoples’. The role we played in our family of origin shapes how we show up as a leader and colleague.

Not surprisingly, people with a poorly differentiated self depend heavily on the acceptance and approval of others. In contrast, people with a well-differentiated self recognize their dependence on others, but they can separate their own thoughts and feelings from the thoughts and feelings of other people. In the face of conflict, criticism, or rejection, they can stay calm and clear-headed enough to distinguish thinking rooted in a careful assessment of facts from thinking clouded by strong emotion.

Because their individual sense of self is differentiated and well developed, they live less at the mercy of feelings—theirs or other people’s—and they can be with others in the midst of strong emotion and not necessarily absorb that strong emotion themselves. They don’t need to jump in and fix things or rescue people, because they have a greater ability to tolerate discomfort.

These are broad descriptions, of course, but I bet you can already see the effect this might have on your time with family, and how varying levels of differentiation of self can play out in the workplace—and how having a higher degree of differentiation can make you a more effective leader. When you are differentiated you are able to work from a sense of your true self. You can anchor in your core beliefs and values and operate out of a firm foundation, rather than react impulsively or be swayed by the constantly shifting conditions that can characterize so many work environments.

Smith explains that at lower levels of self-differentiation, anxiety in any group context—work, relationships, family, community organizations—can get expressed in two main ways: overfunctioning or underfunctioning. These two strategies are what we learned from our family of origin, and they represent the quickest means we have of calming ourselves and everyone else down when anxiety strikes. They’re both autopilot reactions rather than thoughtful responses. Both reduce anxiety, though through very different means. The over-functioner takes over and directs, while the underfunctioner distances themselves and avoids. Taking over means you swoop in and problem-solve, which makes the anxiety go away. Distancing means you back off and avoid the anxiety-provoking situation altogether.

When we’re overfunctioning, Kathleen said, “we get propped up in our own functioning by acting as if other people are an extension of ourselves, by functioning for them. And often, that’s what leads to burnout.” It can also lead to frustration and disappointment when the people who stand in as extensions of ourselves don’t perform well or become less capable. It’s also a huge burden to carry others’ thoughts, feelings, and behaviors! All of this is why overfunctioning is a pseudo-strength, and why in the long term, it isn’t sustainable.

Underfunctioning, on the other hand, can look like passing the buck, playing it safe (i.e. being too risk-averse), or depending on others to solve problems rather than getting involved yourself. Underfunctioners underestimate their own abilities, and are more than happy to let others take over when things get difficult. Which brings up an important point: overfunctioning and underfunctioning are reciprocal. Overfunctioners cope by getting involved in others’ problems. Underfunctioners cope by getting others involved in their problems. These two dynamics can’t exist without each other.

Notice, too, that both are trying to resolve their own anxiety through other people. The overfunctioner’s attitude is, “I need to get overly involved and problem-solve for others so I can calm my own anxieties.” The underfunctioner’s is, “I need someone to get overly involved and problem-solve for me so I can calm my own anxieties.” The Bowen response is that both the overfunctioner and the underfunctioner need a stronger differentiation of self—and developing a stronger differentiation of self has nothing to do with changing the behavior (or thoughts or feelings) of the other, and everything to do with learning to regulate your own emotional functioning.

“The more you can regulate your own reactiveness,” Kathleen writes, “the better you serve…others. This is why self-regulation is such a key component of leadership,” Kathleen writes. “Leaders who are running around trying to put out anxious fires, instead of staying calm themselves, are largely ineffective…. It’s so easy to stay focused on everyone else’s faces instead of considering what your own looks like. It’s so tempting to try and ‘fix’ distress rather than modeling objectivity.” But leaders who can manage themselves and inspire calm, she says, can communicate to each member of the team that they’re capable enough to “find a path through the chaos.”

I love this advice, and no matter our role, we all need to take responsibility for our own emotions and behaviors, which affect each member of the “family system” at home and at work, whether we’re aware of it or not.

Reacting (rather than responding) is what so many of us do when we’re anxious. Reacting is succumbing to the anxiety and automatically diving in to fight the fire. And remember—that fire could be imaginary! Some of the threats we misperceive stem from a lack of differentiation. Perhaps you grew up in a house where your mother was always in a panic. Your brain learned to think “Fire” all the time, even though there wasn’t a fire. As an adult, your panic button may still be easily triggered. Being less differentiated can create more (and exhausting) reactivity, because you’re always at the mercy of other people’s emotions and the unfiltered effect other people’s emotions have on you. A terse email from your boss causes you to lose a night’s sleep because you instantly go into reactive panic mode. Or if a colleague is upset you assume it’s your fault and it’s your responsibility to fix it...and BOOM you are so anxious. All of this makes perfect sense, given the family system in which you grew up.

But you’re an adult now, and you don’t have to repeat old patterns. You can make a new choice. You can step back from the automatic thought, ask yourself “Is there really a fire?”, and then tell your anxiety, “Thanks, you’ve done your job, but there’s no fire and you can be quiet now.”

Morra

PS: Interested in more about how your childhood shapes how your adult roles as employee and leader? Listen to my interview with Jerry Colonna on facing childhood hurts.