do I move onward and upward? Is this the bottom, or is there more to
come? Someone told me my problems, so how do I fix them? How did I let
this happen? How can it never happen again?
A look at history finds that these events seem to be defined by three traits:
1. They almost always came at the hands of some outside force or
person.
2. They often involved things we already knew about ourselves, but
were too scared to admit.
3. From the ruin came the opportunity for great progress and
improvement.
Does everyone take advantage of that opportunity? Of course not. Ego
often causes the crash and then blocks us from improving.
Was the 2008 financial crisis not a moment in which everything was laid
bare for many people? The lack of accountability, the overleveraged
lifestyles, the greed, the dishonesty, the trends that could not possibly
continue. For some, this was a wake-up call. Others, just a few years later,
are back exactly where they were. For them, it will be worse next time.
Hemingway had his own rock-bottom realizations as a young man. The
understanding he took from them is expressed timelessly in his book A
Farewell to Arms. He wrote, “The world breaks every one and afterward
many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills.”
The world can show you the truth, but no one can force you to accept it.
In 12-step groups, almost all the steps are about suppressing the ego and
clearing out the entitlements and baggage and wreckage that has been
accumulated—so that you might see what’s left when all of that is stripped
away and the real you is left.
It’s always so tempting to turn to that old friend denial (which is your ego
refusing to believe that what you don’t like could be true).
Psychologists often say that threatened egotism is one of the most
dangerous forces on earth. The gang member whose “honor” is impugned.
The narcissist who is rejected. The bully who is made to feel shame. The
impostor who is exposed. The plagiarist or the embellisher whose story
stops adding up.
These are not people you want to be near when they are cornered. Nor is
it a corner you would want to back yourself into. That’s where you get: How
can these people talk to me this way? Who do they think they are? I’ll
make them all pay.
Sometimes because we can’t face what’s been said or what’s been done,
we do the unthinkable in response to the unbearable: we escalate. This is ego
in its purest and most toxic form.
Look at Lance Armstrong. He cheated, but so did a lot of people. It was
when this cheating was made public and he was forced to see—if only for a
second—that he was a cheater that things got really bad. He insisted on
denying it despite all the evidence. He insisted on ruining other people’s
lives. We’re so afraid to lose our own esteem or, God forbid, the esteem of
others, that we contemplate doing terrible things.
“Everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come to
the light, lest his works should be exposed,” reads John 3:20. Big and small,
this is what we do. Getting hit with that spotlight doesn’t feel good—whether
we’re talking the exposure of ordinary self-deception or true evil—but
turning away only delays the reckoning. For how long, no one can say.
Face the symptoms. Cure the disease. Ego makes it so hard—it’s easier to
delay, to double down, to deliberately avoid seeing the changes we need to
make in our lives.
But change begins by hearing the criticism and the words of the people
around you. Even if those words are mean spirited, angry, or hurtful. It means
weighing them, discarding the ones that don’t matter, and reflecting on the
ones that do.
In Fight Club, the character has to firebomb his own apartment to finally
break through. Our expectations and exaggerations and lack of restraint made
such moments inevitable, ensuring that it would be painful. Now it’s here,
what will you make of it? You can change, or you can deny.
Vince Lombardi said this once: “A team, like men, must be brought to its
knees before it can rise again.” So yes, hitting bottom is as brutal as it
sounds.
But the feeling after—it is one of the most powerful perspectives in the
world. President Obama described it as he neared the end of his tumultuous,
trying terms. “I’ve been in the barrel tumbling down Niagara Falls and I
emerged, and I lived, and that’s such a liberating feeling.”
If we could help it, it would be better if we never suffered illusions at all.
It’d be better if we never had to kneel or go over the edge. That’s what
we’ve spent so much time talking about so far in this book. If that fight is lost,
we end up here.
In the end, the only way you can appreciate your progress is to stand on
the edge of the hole you dug for yourself, look down inside it, and smile
fondly at the bloody claw prints that marked your journey up the walls.
J
DRAW THE LINE
It can ruin your life only if it ruins your character.
—M ARCUS AURELIUS
ohn DeLorean ran his car company into the ground with a mix of outsized
ambition, negligence, narcissism, greed, and mismanagement. As the bad
news began to pile up and the picture was made clear and public, how do
you think he responded?
Was it with resigned acceptance? Did he acknowledge the errors his
disgruntled employees were speaking out about for the first time? Was he
able to reflect, even slightly, on the mistakes and decisions that had brought
him, his investors, and his employees so much trouble?
Of course not. Instead he put in motion a series of events that would end in
a $60 million drug deal and his subsequent arrest. That’s right, after his
company began to fail—failure almost exclusively tied to his unprofessional
management style—he figured the best way to save it all would be to secure
financing through an illegal shipment of 220 pounds of cocaine.
Sure, after his publicized and very embarrassing arrest, DeLorean was
eventually acquitted on the charges on the rather implausible argument of
“entrapment.” Except he is on video, holding up a baggie of cocaine, saying
with giddy excitement, “This stuff is as good as gold.”
There’s no question about who caused John DeLorean’s disintegration.
There’s also no question about who made it so much worse. The answer is:
HIM. He found himself in a hole and kept digging until he made it all the way
to hell.
If only he’d stopped. If at any point he’d said: Is this the person I want to
be?
People make mistakes all the time. They start companies they think they
can manage. They have grand and bold visions that were a little too
grandiose. This is all perfectly fine; it’s what being an entrepreneur or a
creative or even a business executive is about.
We take risks. We mess up.
The problem is that when we get our identity tied up in our work, we
worry that any kind of failure will then say something bad about us as a
person. It’s a fear of taking responsibility, of admitting that we might have
messed up. It’s the sunk cost fallacy. And so we throw good money and good
life after bad and end up making everything so much worse.
Let’s say the walls feel like they’re closing in. It might feel as if you’ve
been betrayed or your life’s work is being stolen. These are not rational,
good emotions that will lead to rational, good actions.
Ego asks: Why is this happening to me? How do I save this and prove to
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