Know thyself.
It is an aphorism as old as philosophy itself and has taken on many nuanced meanings over the years. On the face of it, nothing, really, should be easier. After all, we are with our self all the time. We’ve known our self all of our life. We are, if nothing else, our self.
And yet, we struggle.
Notwithstanding denial, though, which most of us are very good at, in our heart of hearts, we know who we are, what we want, how we react to things, what makes us uncomfortable, what makes us happy.
The problem, in fact, is not knowing thyself, but accepting thyself.
You know who doesn’t have a problem accepting herself? Yeah, I kind of painted myself into a corner with the premise for this column. It actually seems really trite to even bring it up. She’s a dog, what choice has she got?
And I did say I wasn’t going to be a slave to the format, though, so, ‘nuff said on that front.
When I was young, I recognized I was deathly afraid of heights. Easy, right? Avoid heights.
Not me. I climbed trees, walked along edges of rooftops and took up rock climbing and cliff diving. I was determined to train myself out of that fear.
I never did, though. To this day, I get vertigo just thinking about high heights. As an aside, I oddly have no problem whatsoever with flying.
It is so strange how we attach negative and positive connotations to things. It defies logic, you might say. For some reason, being afraid of heights was something to which I attached negative connotations, even though it is the most natural thing in the world. High things are dangerous.
Another characteristic I very early on attached negative connotations to was being an introvert. Why is probably a question that would require years of psychoanalysis. I don’t have that kind of luxury, but I do have a column.
Perhaps I have an authority defiance personality disorder. Tell me I can’t do something? Just watch me.
The thing is, despite decades of forced extroversion—and way more alcohol than I ever had any business drinking—I have not managed to defy my introverted nature.
Granted, this is not a black-and-white situation, it is a spectrum. On most of the tests, I score “ambivert” with a slight tendency toward the introvert side. I suspectthat is from all the years of practice.
In other words, I am good at acting like an extrovert, but most of the time I am just as happy to be by myself.
I have forced myself to do this, because I saw advantage in being an extrovert, even when it has caused me significant personal discomfort. I can’t say it hasn’t served me well over the years, but it has also taken a toll.
And, of course, it is impossible to know whether a different course would have served me just as well or better, because I only have the life I have lived.
Whatever advantage I once saw in overcoming these perceived flaws in my character, however, becomes less pronounced with age.
My wife always says, like it or not, we are on the down side of the hill. I am paraphrasing, here, but the fact of the matter is, while there may yet be significant accomplishments in our future, we have, for the most part done the things we are going to do.
And that is okay.
It’s also okay to be afraid of heights and to be an introvert.
Because I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.
If you get that reference, you might just be on the same side of the hill
