Humility and Strength

Joan told me, during one of our very earliest sessions, "The Story of My Life In Six Short Chapters." It goes like this.

Chapter 1: I walk down the street; I fall in the hole; I don't know where I am, and I can't get out.
Chapter 2: I walk down the street; I fall in the hole; I know where I am, but I can't get out.
Chapter 3: I walk down the street; I fall in the hole; I know where I am, and I can get out.
Chapter 4: I walk down the street; I almost fall in the hole, but I don't.
Chapter 5: I walk down the street; I see the hole and I go around it.
Chapter 6: I walk down a different street.

I think this is one of the best metaphors for personal growth and change. However, at least in my life, this story does not occur once over many years, but rather repeats itself many times over. And once I find a new street, I usually don't stay there too terribly long at first. Rather, I tour the new street, decide it's perfect, start walking down it, and then somehow make my way right back to the old street with the hole.

That's where I found myself not long ago. After spending an entire summer learning my way onto a new street, once school began I just couldn't keep myself away from the old one. I have various theories to explain this phenomenon (and they're probably all pieces of the puzzle) but what I have realized is that identifying why something happens does not always solve the problem. Right now, what I need is a how: how to get off this street and work my way back to the next one. So I've developed a plan that involves two concepts: Robert Moore's theory of humility and my dad's theory of "fake it 'til you make it."

Robert Moore says that true humility simply means recognizing your limitations and getting the help that you need. I have a real problem with this. Previous to reading this definition, I had always considered myself a humble person due to my constant self-deprecation and chastisement. By letting my internal bully reign supreme, I not only prevented myself from truly realizing my personal limitations, but I made the prospect of getting support out of the question.

What to do when you find yourself in a familiar rut but feel too low to get yourself out yet too high to ask for assistance? You behave yourself into believing. In other words, force yourself to act as you would if you already are the person you are trying to become. For me, this involves structuring my day with activities that I don't necessarily want to do, that are scary for me or challenging or tedious, but ones that would be rote for a healthy, integrated person. I ask to be held accountable and establish consequences for failure to complete these activities. Initially, I am rarely strong enough to hold myself accountable. I have finally grasped this very real limitation, and thus have at least summoned the strength to ask others to help me with this task.

Eventually, I will find enough comfort in these rituals and peace in this routine that I can hold myself accountable; some activities may even become so enjoyable that I wouldn't even consider skipping them. Others will probably never be easy, but will become somewhat tolerable simply out of force of habit. I also know that I'll revisit my old street from time to time, but hopefully just to view the hole from afar, contemplate jumping into it, and then walk away.