The relationship between the two is undeniable. We manage
best what we know best. If we understand ourselves, we can better manage
ourselves for maximum returns.
It should be obvious that if we have accurate data about our
car, we can best take care of it. When we know where to add the water, the
windshield wiper fluid, the oil, and the lubricant, we can better maintain it
than when we do not know these things.
Driving also depends upon accurate data. If we fail to
accurately see the location of pedestrians and other vehicles, we will
eventually crash. Similarly, a captain of a ship needs to have accurate
information about his ship – what weather it can sustain and where it can
successfully navigate.
We too need accurate data about ourselves – our likes and
dislikes, our strengths and weaknesses. I don’t like crowds and loud parties,
and so I avoid them when possible. In certain environments, we will thrive. In
others, we wilt.
All of this might seem simple enough, but it isn’t. Wisdom
and self-knowledge are elusive commodities. Why? We’d rather feel good about
ourselves than to think accurately about ourselves. It is painful to see
ourselves as we really are. We prefer to think that everyone likes and respects
us rather to know the truth.
Rose-colored glasses are more desirable than a pair that
enables us to see accurately. However, the rose-colored ones come at great cost
to self-management. Believing what is inaccurate always costs. I had been a
supervisor, but I was not able to correctly assess what others thought about me
and my supervisory impact. A colleague had maliciously told me, “You don’t know
who your friends are.” I later found out that he was right, and I had to pay a
price for my mistaken ideas.
The writer Aldous Huxley (1894-1963) identified this
commonly observed truth:
·
If most of us remain ignorant of ourselves, it
is because self-knowledge is painful and we prefer the pleasures of illusion. (The Perennial Philosophy)
The Roman philosopher Seneca (4 BC-65) likewise succinctly
observed that, “Other men's sins are before our eyes; our own are behind our
backs.”
How do we remove our
rose-colored glasses? Only with the great pain of having to see the light -
what we had purposely intended not to see! We have hid from these things
because they are painful, disorienting, destabilizing, and personally
threatening. We have also come to rely on self-deception, an addictive drug. We
have even been encouraged to live on a diet of self-affirmations. Their
accuracy was never the prime concern. Instead, we embraced self-deception
because it helped us to get out of bed in the morning. They administered an
infusion of hope and a belief in ourselves.
However, to maintain the same level of hope and self-belief,
we had to imbibe ever more grandiose self-affirmations. Eventually, they become
an addiction more life-controlling than any street drug.
To go cold-turkey is to invite despair and depression. Often,
long periods of severe depression weaken our defenses, and it becomes
increasingly difficult to believe the lies that we had been telling ourselves.
Ironically, it has been found that the depressed often have a more accurate
self-assessment than do the “normal.” In “Positive
Illusions,” psychologist Shelley Taylor summed up the evidence:
·
Normal people exaggerate how competent and well
liked they are. Depressed people do not. Normal people remember their past
behavior with a rosy glow. Depressed people are more even-handed…On virtually
every point on which normal people show enhanced self-regard, illusions of
control, and unrealistic visions of the future, depressed people fail to show
the same biases.” (214)
However, findings also reveal that when we surface from our
depression, we return to our favorite addiction – self-deception. Taylor
concluded:
·
When depressed people are no longer depressed,
they show the same self-enhancing biases and illusions as non-depressed people.
(p.223)
Often, therapy will substitute one addiction for a less
toxic addiction. However, for the addiction to self-glorification and
narcissistic thinking, there is no therapeutic substitute. However, my Savior
Jesus applied the perfect antidote to my addiction. I gradually became
convinced that He forgave, loved, and adored me. Because of His acceptance of
me, I could begin to face and to accept myself.
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