Dear Daniel, it is a great honor and pleasure to do this interview with you and to learn more about your work and projects. For those not acquainted with your activity, I want to mention that you are a lyricist, composer and co-author of The Myth of Normal, a book that you wrote with your father, Dr. Gabor Maté. I admit that I learned about you a few years ago, probably around 2017, when you started to lead workshops together with Dr. Maté on parent-adult child relationships. Therefore, I would like to talk about your work, about your book and, of course, about relationships. Thank you for your time and willingness.
Gáspár: My first contact with you was through a short video of you and your father discussing about the relationship between parents and adult-children (I think it was part of the project „Hello again“). I especially appreciated the honest way you talked about the unfinished childhood and how it visits us sometimes, and how important it is to look at our parents not only through the lens of the past or childhood. This is why I want to ask you – How would you describe your present relationship with your parents? What parts are you proud of and what are the challenges?
Daniel Maté: At the moment I’m feeling pretty good about the state of my relationship with both of my parents. It feels like we’re able to understand and empathize with one another without getting overly involved in each other’s business. I feel secure in my boundaries (I’m clear on where I end and my folks begin) and have been able to communicate these, through trial and error, to the point where I’m confident these boundaries will be respected – and I trust my own strength to draw the line if they are sometimes breached.
Another sign of progress is that I now truly feel like I have a separate connection with each of them, rather than seeing them as a single, two-headed creature. I think a big part of my emotional wounding in childhood came as a result of too much triangulation between us: I was hyper-aware of their spousal relationship, because as the quality of their marriage fluctuated, so went their moods and how they dealt with me. I was also all too conscious of how their different parenting styles created conflict between them. So I often felt caught in the middle, and found myself trying to keep the peace, to make order out of chaos – a very stressful position to be in for a child, who actually is the one who needs the parents to do the work of creating a stable environment, not the other way around! These coping patterns turn into habits and take a lot of adult awareness if we’re going to break them, because they seem so normal.
There will always be challenges, but after a certain point of working on this stuff, I think you get to a point where you’re not as daunted by them. There’s a kind of „oh, of course“ to it – a recognition that things are messy, and that’s not the end of the world. We’ve made it through before, and so there’s faith that we can again.
Gáspár: When you talk with your dad, I’ve noticed that you both have a good sense of humor and allow yourself to be vulnerable, talking authentically about times when you have an argument or a difficult relationship. Hence my question – how do you relate to arguments and conflicts, do you see them as a natural part of a relationship or would you avoid them if possible? I am curious, because the Romanian the mindset is that arguments are an indicator of something negative, whereas relationship psychology tells us that arguments are 100% inevitable and the better we learn to manage them, the safer the relational space between us will be.
Daniel Maté: Look, if anyone, Romanian or otherwise, can suggest a healthy way of avoiding all conflict in relationships – and by „healthy“ I mean one that moves people toward understanding and healing, as opposed to entrenching the negative dynamics further – I’d love to hear it!
There are definitely good reasons sometimes to sidestep or delay an outright argument, to wait until the appropriate time and place. (I’ve often wished my family had been better at this kind of discernment and patience.) And of course, there are more and less healthy ways to argue, and we can all learn how to engage in disagreements in more productive, less inflammatory ways. Arguments based in rage, blame, and accusation, for example, are unlikely to resolve much, and can make things worse.
At the same time, if the alternative to arguing is long-term resentment, passive-aggressive hostility, suppression of anger, and so on, I think it’s worth asking if the cost is worth it. Sure, you avoid the discomfort of head-on confrontation, but you’re putting a lot of strain on the relationship, draining it of spontaneity, affinity, and authenticity. It can even make some people literally sick, as my father’s written about. There’s a reason for the English expression „having it out“ – by speaking the unspoken, we get things out of our system so they don’t keep poisoning the relationship. If you genuinely don’t care about the relationship, then yes, maybe it’s not worth it to engage. But I think most people do actually care, they’re just avoiding being honest out of fear.
Ultimately I think the whole notion of „negativity“ can be counterproductive. There is nothing that „shouldn’t be there“ in a relationship. If it’s there, it’s there for a reason. We can’t be perfect beings, at least not by the unnatural standards of perfection that would have us stuff our feelings down and never be upset with people. And often being honest with each other allows us to get to the heart of the matter, which improves the relationship in the long term. At the very least, we learn that the relationship is strong enough to survive even the most fervent disagreement. It can build mutual respect and make us less afraid, which makes for a more enjoyable relationship for both people.
Incidentally, doing the „Hello Again“ workshops together for the last six years (which will be the title of our next book together) have brought my father and I into some pretty intense moments of conflict. These ended up being both illuminating and transformative, but at the time, they were extremely unpleasant. I’ve come close to quitting a few times – it didn’t seem worth it. I think one reason they ended up being worthwhile is that we had something bigger at stake: we’re trying to support other people with their own challenges in this domain. So we had a built-in incentive to power through it and deal with it like grownups.
Gáspár: As I mentioned in the beginning, you have a degree in Musical Theatre Writing, and I imagine that you carried on something of your mother’s legacy, who I know is an artist. Moreover, you are now an author in the field of mental health, continuing your father’s tradition. Going back to our topic, what decided you to compose music and how did you come up with the idea of the book The Myth of Normal?
Daniel Maté: The two don’t have much to do with each other, except I guess that they both involve my skills as a writer. I’ve always been a creative person, and music and theatre have been important outlets for me since childhood— I had perfect pitch from a young age, played piano and guitar, and always loved composing my own songs. So going to NYU for a graduate degree in Musical Theatre Writing in my late twenties was simply a way of putting together two things I loved, a way of nurturing my talents and trying to do something with them in the world.
The Myth Of Normal is primarily my father’s book— he’d been planning and researching it for many years before I came aboard, and the ideas in it are mainly his. You’d have to ask him why he asked me to join the project, but my role has turned out to be pretty diverse and, I think, essential to its completion. I suppose one connection between my musical theatre writing and this project was that I brought a lyricist’s eye to the language: in writing lyrics for the stage, every word matters and you want the ideas to really „pop“, grab the audience’s attention and not let go. I think I’m pretty good as a prose stylist, and I definitely brought my excitement for language to the collaboration. Plus I added some of my own ideas, and made it my job to make sure my dad’s arguments were rendered in the most persuasive and accessible way, especially for first-time readers of his work and people who aren’t already focused on topics like trauma and so on.
Gáspár: Reading several reviews of the book, I learned that it deals with some uncomfortable aspects of health and dissects some myths that we, at the cultural level, call proofs of normality. How was the process of writing this book and what emotions do you feel knowing that it will be read by a worldwide audience?
Daniel Maté: Overall it was a great process. I feel pleased with what I was able to contribute, and mostly it was just really wonderful to collaborate with my father. I think we came to see each other with a lot more mutual respect as fellow adults through doing this together. He’s told me repeatedly that he couldn’t have done it without me, and that’s nice to hear.
I feel great about the fact that it’ll be read by people all over the world. I think it has the potential to help a lot of people understand themselves and their surroundings with new clarity, and hopefully provide some guidance on the healing path, wherever people are on it. It’s been a long time in the making, and it’ll be very interesting to see how folks react.
Gáspár: You said that it is very important to comprehend that the child-parent relationship is primarily influenced by our perceptions and convictions, by the internalized relationship. This is why I want to ask you which do you think are the first steps we can take to change something in our relationship with our parents, without accusing them of being the source of all our annoyances or difficulties?
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Daniel Maté: Well, the first step is always intention. First you have to want it, to really admit to yourself that you want something different. This can be difficult because it opens us up to disappointment, which is a vulnerable place to be. Sometimes it means getting real with oneself: „I don’t like this. I’m used to it, but if I’m honest, it sucks – and I’d like to explore whether something else is possible.“
Once we can admit we want it, we can create an actual intention, which is more active than just idly wishing or wanting. When we truly intend something, we put our attention on it and make it more important than anything else, which automatically changes our perspective: we stop focusing on stuff that doesn’t matter and start to think more flexibly and creatively. This leads to new perceptions, behaviors, thoughts, and feelings.
I should add that it’s important not to try to „skip to the ending“. What I mean by that is that if you believe your parents are the source of all your problems, it won’t work to try to convince yourself otherwise just because you know intellectually that it’s not the wise or enlightened approach. Knowing something is just a belief isn’t enough. You have to confront how the belief makes you feel, and all the emotions that swirl around it. Often our beliefs are just ways of explaining and controlling the feelings we’d rather not feel.
Also, don’t gaslight yourself. Yes, responsibility is the end goal; we don’t want to stay victims of the past. But there’s no way around a simple fact: your earliest and deepest emotional injuries were sustained at the hands or in the presence of your parents, at a time when you had zero power or control, when you needed them for everything. They gave you whatever positive care they were able to; they also gave you things that weren’t good for you, which they couldn’t help passing down. There’s no blame or fault in that. But it does explain why it can be so difficult to have a present-day relationship with these people now. You may have to go through layers of your own „negative“ emotions before you can find an authentic, positive place to stand in the relationship. Responsibility could mean saying „Yes, I am pissed off at you, and there are good historical reasons for that. I don’t want to stay that way, and it’s not your fault – you did your best – but I’m not going to reject my own feelings just to get closer to you. I have to accept that this is how I still feel.“
Gáspár: You are the son of one of the most respected mental health specialists of the moment. And I heard you saying that you are 100% in team Gabor. How do you feel as a son when you see the impact your father’s work has on people and how much would you like to carry on his work?
Daniel Maté: It’s a mixed bag, honestly. Obviously I’m very proud of him and it’s moving to see how many people he’s helped to live healthier lives, forgive themselves, heal from all kinds of afflictions. At the same time, I’ve had to deal with something I think a lot of children of famous people deal with, which is that I know better than most people the gap between his public persona and who he can be in private, which is more complicated. And there can be resentment there, and also jealousy because he’s been there to help the whole world but hasn’t always prioritized his family. I’ve pretty much come to terms with that stuff: no one’s perfect, and he’s more committed than many people to being honest and working on himself.
Tougher for me is the question of „carrying on his work“. His work, his calling in life and contribution to the world, is different from mine. I’m not a mental health professional or a therapist, and don’t want to be. Yet I’m interested in these issues and like helping people sort through the places where they’re stuck in life. That’s where my mental chiropractic service came from, and I really enjoy it. It’s not therapy, and when my father and I work together with people, our two approaches are complementary rather than overlapping.
Dad and I are different people— very different, in some ways. Part of my struggle has been, and sometimes still is, figuring out what I’m here for, as distinct from him. He’s cast a big shadow on my psyche, for sure. I’ve had a lot of emotional energy invested in „making it“ on my own, especially in my musical theatre work, because that’s the part of me that feels the most like mine and mine alone. So any recognition I’ve received in that arena tends to mean more to me than my affiliation with him. That said, being truly independent also means not being afraid of being associated with him: seeing myself as my own person with my own gifts, and that other people will see me that way. And I’m increasingly clear that when he and I work together, I bring something unique and valuable to the table. I think we make each other better, which is the aim of any good collaboration.
Gáspár: In your workshops, you and Dr. Maté talk about parenting prototypes: guilty parent, victim parent and child parent; and for adult child, you use the concepts of aggrieved child, dutiful child and withdrawn child. Can you describe these prototypes to us in a few words?
Daniel Maté: I’ll say that the prototypes are like pre-written characters or roles – default modes of operating – that we fall into more or less automatically. Some people are „in“ their prototype much of the time, others only in times of stress or conflict. Either way, and no matter the specific prototype, each one represents a limitation: we see the other people and ourselves through this lens, and have a limited range of choices in how we react, behave, and communicate. They are all coping mechanisms rooted in the past, so having a present-day relationship involves getting to know our own tendencies and starting to notice when we’re stuck in a prototype. Not making it bad or wrong, but just noticing: „Hey, I’m playing the victim again“ or „Oops, I’m taking out my rage on my family.“
Gáspár: I learned from your interviews that you reached 45 years of age and, in a very honest way, you often said that you are still looking for your way in life. That is why I want to ask you what are your strategies to accept your imperfections and allow yourself to live freely? The answer to this question is all the more important because young people in our country feel the pressure of the family, the community, the society into becoming independent as soon as possible.
Daniel Maté: I don’t know that I have any strategies to share, unfortunately. I guess I’d say, as a first principle, try to trust that life will bring you the experiences you need, especially the challenging ones, to see those „imperfections“ clearly (I’d rather call them „injuries“) so you can get past them. So it’s best to embrace what life gives you, because the healing you need is usually hidden in your biggest difficulties, depending on how you approach it. There’s no fast track to healing or freedom. As with anything, intention is everything. And honesty.
Whatever you’re dealing with, it helps to remember that, as Robin Williams said over and over to Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting, „it’s not your fault“. It is your responsibility, if you choose to take it on. And freedom is on the other side of taking responsibility, in my experience.
For me it’s an ongoing process – I’m far from a „finished product“. And I would never suggest that anyone else should emulate my approach: it has to be invented rather than imitated. Healing is in some ways a creative process: you’re not fixing yourself, you’re reconnecting with yourself and then creating who you want to be going forward.
Gáspár: Our interview has come to an end. I still have many questions I would like to ask, but I choose only one. Looking back on your life from childhood until present, what is the most important thing that you learned from your parents? What is the one lesson in life that has helped you the most in becoming who you are?
Daniel Maté: For all my complaints about my parents, one thing I’ve always admired in them and tried to learn from them is the value of seeking the truth, even and especially when it hurts. They’ve never stopped growing and learning as people, and are both courageous in facing their demons because they want a happier, more authentic life. I think that accounts for how vital and healthy they both are as they get older, and I can only hope to be as fully alive at their age. They’re also not shy about sharing their gifts with the world, whether it’s my mom’s art or my father’s work as a teacher and healer. I find that inspiring.
Gáspár: Thank you, Daniel, for your patience and availability, I particularly appreciate your willingness and time!
Daniel Maté: My pleasure!
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