I recently spoke with author John Miles, whose book The Mattering Effect: Creating a Life of Meaning and Worth was released on October 6. We discussed the science of mattering, the role of reciprocity in relationships, and why so many of us can appear successful while feeling invisible.
Dr. Marisa Franco: In your book, you talk about how a traumatic brain injury you experienced as a child shaped your understanding of mattering. Can you share more about that experience?
John Miles: When I was a child, I experienced a traumatic brain injury after being pushed through a basement window. I woke up in intensive care, surrounded by machines, with a tube in my head. I don’t remember much about the incident itself, but I remember realizing that my life was going to be different. I didn’t know how dramatically, but I knew I had changed.
The injury affected my eyesight, caused chronic headaches and sensory and auditory processing issues, and left me with a significant speech impediment. I struggled in school, and other kids teased me.
My speech therapist was someone I hated visiting because I had to walk in front of the entire classroom to get to her office, with everyone staring at me. But she also helped me discover something important. She essentially taught me what we now call a growth mindset: I could accept my circumstances as fixed, or I could work to overcome my limiting beliefs and become the author of my own life.
That mindset shaped the next decade of my life. Then, in high school, I had a career counseling session with a teacher I deeply admired. I had been accepted to Duke, Michigan, the Naval Academy, and several other schools. I was trying to figure out what came next. During that conversation, she told me that it didn’t matter where I went to college because I would never do anything meaningful with my life. I would never amount to anything, she said, and would always live in mediocrity.
If my brain injury hadn’t changed the trajectory of my life, that conversation did.
Years of working to rebuild my sense of self and overcome challenges seemed to evaporate in a 20-minute discussion. I would spend the next 25 years living in what I now call the mattering gap—trying to prove that I was enough.
MF: That’s horrible, and I’m sorry you experienced it. Your story illustrates so poignantly how much other people influence our sense of mattering. That teacher communicated that you didn’t matter. What can we do differently in our friendships and relationships to help people feel that they do?
JM: I think attachment science offers a useful way to understand this. When people feel unsafe or insignificant, they can develop anxious or avoidant attachment patterns. I believe a deep, prolonged sense of insignificance can contribute to both.
For me, it manifested as avoidance. I repeatedly received the signal that my real self wasn’t seen or needed, so I started withdrawing from the world and presenting a different version of myself. Over time, that became a slow disappearance of self. I felt invisible.
I think of anxious attachment as overpaying the mattering tax: continually working to earn the reassurance that you matter. With avoidant attachment, it’s as if you eventually go bankrupt and shut the account altogether.
Researcher Isaac Prilleltensky describes mattering as having two sides: giving value and receiving value. We need to know that we matter to others, and we need to feel that we contribute something meaningful. But we tend to overemphasize how we provide value to others, and our culture rewards us for doing.
In our relationships, we need to reinforce how much people matter to us—not just in broad statements, but in concrete, specific ways. The more detailed we can be about what someone means to us, the more likely they are to feel it.
MF: You also write about how we sometimes struggle to receive care, even when other people are trying to show us that we matter. Why does that happen, and how can we get better at receiving care?
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JM: I think we minimize our emotional needs to create physical or psychological distance from other people. Having experienced avoidant attachment for so many years, I’ve relied heavily on self-sufficiency. Letting people in has been difficult because of the trust issues I developed through my experiences.
One way we begin to change this is by initiating the first cue of care. When we start offering care to others, we can create opportunities for them to respond with care in return.
MF: It sounds like you’re pointing to how busy and overwhelmed we all are. We may not even realize when we’re failing to show care or reciprocate the care someone else gives us.
JM: Exactly. When I first started trying to understand my own experience, I described myself as numb, burned out, broken, and indifferent to the world.
But as I looked more closely, I realized what I was really experiencing: I was highly visible to the outside world, yet I felt completely invisible within it.
I think that’s what so many people are experiencing today. That realization led me to study self-worth, mattering, belonging, and self-determination theory. I wanted to understand why we can be surrounded by people and still feel unseen.
MF: I think many people can relate to having friends in name but not necessarily feeling connected to them. One thing I appreciated about your book is your emphasis on authenticity and vulnerability. We have to express ourselves and let people see who we really are if we want to feel connected—even when we already have people to spend time with.
JM: Vulnerability has been difficult for me, particularly in my friendships with other men. I’ve had very few relationships with men in which I felt I could be completely myself.
One of those friendships was especially important to me. My friend died by suicide about a decade ago. He was someone I could call at 2 in the morning or tell my deepest secrets to without worrying that he would use them against me or make me feel small.
After he died, I found myself wondering what more I could have done for him. He had been there for me so consistently, but he hadn’t told any of us about the financial difficulties that were weighing on him. When we eventually learned what was happening, several of us could easily have helped him financially.
I spent the Saturday before he died with him. We went out, danced, listened to music, and had a great time. He spent Sunday with two other close friends. Looking back, I sometimes wonder whether he knew what he was going to do.
I share this because it made me think about why someone who gave so much care to others might not ask for that same care in return.
When you don’t feel that you matter, it can be incredibly difficult to believe that other people would want to help you. Even when care is available, you may not be able to recognize it or ask for it.
If you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, seek help immediately. For help 24/7 dial 988 for the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline, or reach out to the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741. To find a therapist near you, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.