#630 若手の成果を喜べない→｢俺のおかげ｣と猛アピール…職場で敬遠される中年男性が口に出せない"4文字の本音"

Recognition Hunger Only Gets Stronger in Middle Age

No matter how old we get, most people want to be seen, valued, and affirmed by others. But according to clinical psychologist Misuzu Nakajima (中島美鈴), the middle-aged clients she sees in counseling often display a stronger hunger for recognition than they had when they were young.

The reason lies in a shift in roles. During their 20s and 30s, when they were individual contributors, their achievements showed up in clear numbers—hitting a sales target, landing a new client, delivering a project under budget—and recognition arrived in equally tangible forms: a manager's praise, a raise, a bonus. Once they were promoted to management, however, the people producing the visible numbers became their subordinates. The manager's job became praising and evaluating others. The creeping feeling that 'nobody notices how hard I'm working' is the predictable result.

The Word They Can't Say Bursts Out in Other Ways

A (52, male, office worker), who came to Nakajima for counseling, described his situation after a promotion that reduced his overtime and sent him home earlier: his wife was cold toward him, his son spent every weekend out of the house, and even though his subordinates were producing excellent results, nobody seemed to need him. 'I'm lonely,' he said.

Nakajima notes that for men born in the Showa era (pre-1989), the word 'lonely' is nearly impossible to say out loud. Expressing vulnerability feels shameful, so the loneliness goes unacknowledged and surfaces instead as snapping at subordinates or a spouse, or endlessly rehashing past glories. The underlying wish is simple: to be recognized, to be needed, to be loved. The 'four-character truth' of the episode title is 'sabishii'—lonely.

Four Patterns That Drive People Away

The article identifies four behaviors that recognition-starved people typically fall into at work. First, when a junior colleague gets praised, they claim credit—'that happened because of my support.' Second, they derail meetings by launching into old success stories. Third, they respond to subordinates' reports with 'but in my opinion…' and lead with rejection. Fourth, they turn sulky whenever small gestures like 'thank you' or 'that's impressive' fail to come their way.

All four patterns share the same structure: the conversational spotlight moves from the other person back to themselves. Younger colleagues think 'not this again,' managers find them difficult to handle, and peers begin to avoid them. The fewer people who are willing to engage, the less their recognition need is satisfied—and the more aggressively they seek it. A vicious cycle takes hold.

Fewer Self-Made Choices Means Heavier Reliance on Others' Approval

Nakajima observes that the same pattern appears not only in managers who have stepped away from frontline work, but also in anyone who has spent their life meeting the expectations of parents and those around them rather than making their own choices. It tends to emerge particularly in women who grew up in environments—especially regions where male-dominated values persisted—where external pressure shaped major life decisions.

D (49, female) described how her mother had steered every significant choice she made, leaving her with no sense of having carved out her own path. When caregiving responsibilities began to alter her relationship with her mother, a long-suppressed sense of unease about 'the life she might have lived' rose to the surface. Consistently deferring to others' wishes deepens dependence on being approved of.

Start by Putting 'Lonely' into Words

The article's prescription is not to suppress the recognition impulse when it arises, but to step back and observe it: 'Right now I want to be acknowledged.' Recognizing a feeling and acting it out on others are two different things—noticing the urge is not a license to steal a subordinate's credit.

Editor-in-chief Hoshino touched on the value of journaling and counseling: putting vague feelings into writing externalizes them, helps the mind settle, and reduces the pull of the impulse.

Hoshino also drew on his own biography to discuss self-determination. He left NHK after two years to join President Inc., and in sixth grade he overrode his parents' objections to enroll in the Keio affiliated junior high school. Even when those choices were made somewhat intuitively, the fact that he made them himself changes the quality of any regret that follows. If you chose it yourself, the thought 'if only I had done otherwise' loses some of its grip. The less you have chosen, the harder it is to stop imagining an alternative life. The authors' conclusion: becoming aware of loneliness and recognition hunger, combined with accumulating small acts of self-determination, is where breaking the cycle begins.