The person I deceive the most is me
I’m a good person. Yet ask my wife, family and friends, and they’ll point out the chasm separating my self-image from reality. The person I deceive the most is me.
One thing I don’t admit to is being easily angered. But all it takes is a few minutes of frustration on a less than efficient help desk before I load and fire both barrels. And when my wife interrupts me to help with a tech issue, I can get very grumpy! No grace or patience, just an automatic reaction kicking in before I’m able to consider alternatives. I always regret such behaviour afterwards.
A few sessions with a counsellor revealed much of my anger comes from my mother’s early death when I was a teenager. The poor woman tried to direct her six foot three, fifteen-year-old son from her hospital bed. But I had ideas of my own and we clashed frequently. When she died the day after a heated argument, I felt so guilty, which festered inside me for decades.
I have another habit of wearing people down to get what I want, insisting on my route, my schedule, my recipe, or my activities. Many go along with it, but some resist. I can cause unnecessary conflict. Again, after seeing a counsellor, I realised this was a coping mechanism for teenage isolation and grief. Unaddressed for years, it gnawed at me, ready to spring out at a moment’s notice. Now, in moments of introspection, I can see how my ‘nice guy’ image has just been a useful fiction.
I console myself with the belief that my sins are small compared with the sins of others. The tech billionaires, politicians, celebrities and companies who routinely break the rules and rip off customers. The disgraced church leaders who’ve had affairs or covered up scandals and abuse. You get the picture.
But unless my wife threatens to leave, surely no action at all is the most comfortable option for me? Yet, something inside me wants to change. It’s got everything to do with the human being I want to be. How I choose to live matters. Others see me and may follow. I can’t do much about the big-shots and their deceptions but I can refuse to buy into it.
Can you relate to what I’m saying? Allow me to share a few things which have helped me so far:
It helps to recognise the unwillingness to face up to the reality about ourselves. We might as well. Everyone else knows what we’re like but they put up with us either because they have no choice or love us, or both. We’re just the last ones to find out. How do we stop deceiving ourselves and make positive change happen?
First, it helps to seek the truth. It can be painful and disruptive. I rejected my wife’s challenges for years but woke up while walking with her on a six-hundred-kilometre pilgrimage. We were arguing regularly and sometimes didn’t talk all day. The issues, getting lost, losing gear, how often we had sex, had always been her fault! Suddenly I realised how demanding and angry I could be.
Second, it helps to own the truth. I was making myself angry but blaming others. I could hardly let it in. Yet owning the truth was the start of my healing journey.
Third, it helps to be accountable. No one wants to do this. I believe it’s essential and requires surrender. Going to a counsellor for six sessions provided me with a structure. The second time provided another. My weekly men’s group is the place I can share my failures (and joys). Without accountability, we’re fooling ourselves.
Fourth, it helps to take action.
Reflect in a journal (or write poetry, prayers, songs). I have an entire shelf!
Get counselling. It’s worth every penny. We need to talk to a professional to sort things out.
Calm ourselves from ‘fight / flight’ or lift ourselves out of ‘shutdown’. A somatic coach will help.
Join a group with people open to sharing and accountability
Fifth, pray like your life depends on it. Because it does. It’s the only way you’ll begin the journey in the first place and stay the distance.
The article was originally published in Sorted Magazine.
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