Self-Pity: Kryptonite to Mental Strength
The Life Experience That Cured Me of This Vice
Don’t be overheard complaining, not even to yourself.
Marcus Aurelius
Self-pity was a cardinal sin in our family growing up.
Unfortunately, it took more than my mom and dad’s guidance to overcome this bad habit.
No, this limiting behavior had to be stamped out of me through experience.
An Immediate Setback
The peak lesson came in the summer of 1995 when I was 22, fresh out of college and working to establish my life in Chicago.
Less than four months before, I had been stressed to the max about not having a job lined up. During senior year, I had been through dozens of interviews with consulting firms and investment banks without a second look, let alone an offer. I didn’t even want to work at those places but was following the lead of the other computer science students.
And then a week before graduation, on my birthday, I got the call - I had landed my dream job.
A prominent sports organization had hired me as an intern to build their first website.
But after only a few months on the job, my new company announced a multi-year, multi-million TV contract with ESPN.
As a mere footnote to the deal, the sports network giant would also handle our website.
Suddenly, my purpose (and career path) had been ripped out from under me.
From Bad to Worse
I spent the next couple of weeks moping around, upset about how unfair it all was.
Then another new intern at work invited me to his party in the city to watch the opening Sunday of the football season.
His party had plenty of pizza and plenty of beer.
I was still feeling sorry for myself.
So, I drank. And then drank some more.
Ten to fifteen beers later, someone at the party helped me onto the CTA Blue Line as I headed back to my apartment in the northwest corner of Chicago.
I had done a smart thing by taking the train to the party earlier in the day.
But foolishly, I had driven my brand-new 1995 Ford Probe to the train station when I could have easily walked there instead.
In another head-scratcher, I didn't go straight home after getting off the train.
In hindsight, I should have left my car there and walked home.
But, I was still hungry. And that led to my brilliant idea of driving to the Denny's down the street.
By the time I finished my Grand Slam breakfast, it was dark outside.
Being drunk and still new to my car and the area, I struggled with flipping on my headlights as I pulled out of the restaurant onto the busy street.
For those unfamiliar with a Ford Probe, it had headlights that popped out of the hood. It was a sleek feature, but it worked against me that night. As I fiddled with the controls, the headlights bobbed up and down, drawing a lot of attention.
The commotion caught the eye of a policeman parked on the street corner.
The police car's lights flashed as the cop directed me to pull into a parking lot, less than a mile from my apartment.
I failed the breathalyzer test, and the officer took me to the local police station, where I waited for a friend to come bail me out an hour later. Fortunately, I don't remember much about that.
What I do remember is calling home and telling my mom and dad the shameful news, with tears in my eyes as I leaned over the sink in my tiny kitchen, looking out into the night from my 8th floor studio apartment window.
Not only did I have to tell my parents about my DUI, but I was not in good financial shape.
My internship paid little.
Monthly car payments loomed large. I also had apartment rent and my college loan to pay off.
Now, I was looking at a driver's license suspension, a substantial fine, the cost of a lawyer, and who knows what else.
It devastated my ego to ask my parents for money, but I needed some immediate help to get back on my feet.
Rising From the Rubble
Along with giving me a small loan, my mom nudged me to call a local temp agency to supplement my income. The agency quickly found me a second job that was a walkable distance from my place.
It was a low-paying office job for the ComEd electric company, where I tore open payment envelopes and sorted the checks and forms into two piles.
I was surrounded by co-workers much different from myself. I was one of the only white people. I didn't have a tattoo or wear chains. Our primary bond was that none of us wanted to be there for four hours every Sunday.
But I pushed through it, knowing that every bit of money helped.
Swallowing My Pride
As humbling as that job was, the required alcohol education meetings were much worse. These sessions came with my one-year probation sentence, along with a mandatory 90-day license suspension.
Every month, I had to visit a local county office to get questioned by an obese female therapist about my drinking.
I knew why I was there, and it wasn't because I had a drinking problem.
I didn't care if I had another beer in my life, but she wouldn't accept that. Her training told her that I was in denial about my issues.
She talked down to me like I was helpless, like she felt sorry for me, in a way that only a worthless therapist can.
Watching this woman waddle around her cluttered cubicle made my skin crawl.
She was a miserable, incompetent bureaucrat plucked right from the pages of Atlas Shrugged.
I despised her.
But I swallowed my pride and counted down the visits until I would never have to see her again.
I Love You Lord, Oh Your Mercy Never Fails Me
As I got off my butt and stopped feeling sorry for myself, God began making big moves in my life.
Our company's Novell computer network was serviced by a young guy my age named Charlie. We had similar interests and got along well with each other.
It was around this time that one of Charlie's other customers asked him if he could create a website dedicated to people passionate about the American West and the cowboy culture, including information about Western clothing and dude ranches (like the one in the 1991 Billy Crystal movie City Slickers.)
Charlie knew I had created a sports website in college and asked me to help him build the cowboy site, offering me a new computer in return.
I jumped at the chance.
From then on, Charlie swung by my office to pick me up at five every afternoon. He then drove us downtown on the Kennedy Expressway to his older brother's office, where we hosted our one Internet server. We scanned photos from Western catalogs and typed content into the site. I learned all about Tony Lama boots and Stetson hats. We ordered pizza and usually worked until 11 PM.
Then, we would wake up the following day to do it all over again.
It felt so free to work hard at something I loved, especially after scrambling eight hours every day to stay busy at my now aimless internship.
We gained a couple more website customers, and Charlie was able to pay me some more money along with the new computer. Within a few months, I was able to quit my crummy temp office job for ComEd on Sundays and used that time to work on websites instead.
Within 18 months, I quit my job at the sports company to work full-time for Charlie’s company, making double the salary. Our business quickly grew from there.
God used my predicament for good - not only to reinforce the perils of self-pity but to solidify and accelerate a close friendship and business partnership that has now lasted nearly 30 years.
God was also preparing me for a much tougher test twenty years away, when cancer would suddenly strike my wife Kristy.
Grateful for the Good and the Bad
As time has passed, I have learned to lean on gratitude and positive activity (usually hard work) as my best daily defense against the vice of victimhood.
I am thankful my reckless, selfish behavior on that night long ago didn’t result in an accident, that it didn’t lead to anyone’s injury (or worse).
I am grateful for the lessons I learned from my mistake, for the lifelong relationships and rewarding career that God wrapped up with the hardship.
Drawing Strength From Superman
If you want more inspiration in this area, I recommend the new documentary about Superman actor Christopher Reeve. The film tells the story of how Reeve pressed forward with remarkable courage and determination after a near-fatal horse-riding accident left him paralyzed from the neck down.
Reeve’s story is another great reminder that, no matter our circumstances, we can all find the strength to climb out of the dark abyss of self-pity and pursue a life of purpose and significance.
Image credit: Alamy
Sharing Midwestern values through the stories of a hard-working single dad, all for the glory of God.