You Can't Change What You Won't See
When I was in my thirties, I started reading the book You’re Not So Smart. I was only able to read the first few chapters before putting it back on my bookshelf because I found it so disturbing. The book effectively conveys how irrational we humans are. At the time, my ego just wasn’t ready to handle the truth. I preferred to believe that my memory could be relied on, my decisions were rational, and I wasn’t seeing the world through my own biased framework. So I closed the book and stuck my head back in the sand.
The problem is that you can’t work with what you’re not aware of.In fact, all of our growth and capacity to be who we aspire to be in our lives rests on our ability to be self-aware. Being self-aware requires a whole lot of courage and ego strength. Introspection does not come naturally to those who avoid pain—it requires turning toward our scared and dark parts, acknowledging our flaws and hypocrisies, admitting that sometimes we aren’t motivated by our higher parts.
As I see it, the necessary prerequisite of “looking within” requires knowing that you’re not defective—just a normal human with normal human foibles. Unfortunately, many of us, through our early life experiences and societal conditioning, learned to reflexively put ourselves and others into categories of good or bad. Besides all of the external pressures to categorize people (see current political climate), it’s also in our wiring to reduce complexity. Our brains are wired to conserve energy and avoid ambiguity. Dichotomous (black-and-white) thinking is a shortcut preferred by our brains and society at large. It takes intentional effort to look for the nuance that exists in ourselves and those around us. The truth is, we are all flawed—and the more we can embrace that, the more we can grow.
Self-awareness is like having access to your own user manual. The better you understand your own operating system—your needs, motivations, and patterns—the more effectively you can troubleshoot problems, navigate challenges, and make choices that align with who you truly are, rather than reacting on autopilot.
When I first started teaching many years ago, I came home completely spent with nothing left to give my partner at the time. I would unconsciously pick a fight with her, which would predictably lead to distance—resulting in the space I so desperately needed. It was a high-cost but effective strategy. At the time, I didn’t have the ability or the self-awareness to check in with myself. I didn’t realize I was using a very old and ingrained strategy to get my needs met. I didn’t even know that I had needs, let alone that it was my responsibility to advocate for them.
It would be awesome if I could write that I figured this all out and became a wonderful partner. The truth is that I still have to work hard to recognize what is going on for me in the moment and skillfully advocate for my needs. Observing my patterns over time has allowed me to be a far more proactive and skillful partner—but I do still regularly fall short. (Thanks, default mode network and limbic system—more on that in upcoming newsletters.)
Looking back, I see the truth in Elizabeth Gilbert’s words: “The greatest harm I’ve ever done to other people was through me not knowing how to take care of myself.” This hits hard because it’s true. The neglected parts of me were usually the ones that lashed out, withdrew, or built walls.
Because I have developed the ego strength to look at my flawed behavior, learn from my patterns and recognize my capacity, I’ve been able to be more proactive in my current relationship. Knowing that I have little to give after seeing clients on my long days, my partner and I have an understanding and a plan for these days. We have an explicit agreement (literally written) about our level of engagement on Tuesday and Wednesday evenings. I’ll happily greet her when I arrive home, and then I will retreat to another room with my dinner for a few hours of uninterrupted time. (I know this exact strategy won’t fit every partnership or household, but it’s a reminder that there are countless ways to design agreements that honor both people’s needs.)
The greatest gift you can give your partner is a calm, regulated nervous system. That gift, I’ve learned, requires consistent maintenance, honest self-assessment, and ongoing compassion for both myself and my partner. This solution would not have been available without self-awareness and honest reflection. And while my partner and I continue to have tension/conflict around other things, we have mostly avoided this particular trap. I recognize that many people don’t have the luxury of checking out—but my point remains: for there to be any hope of self-care, self-awareness must come first.
When you aren't at your best do you tend to lash out, withdraw, build walls or people please? What would be different if you understood what your nervous system was asking for in that moment?