I’ll continue with my responses to relevant study questions in Atteberry’s book. What good advice had you rejected, and what happened? Growing up, my father often told me to count my blessings. I didn’t give it much thought until recently. I was not grateful for my secondary or even college education. I failed to study, work hard, and learn. I was not grateful for my wife. I failed to support and care for her as a friend, and I ended up destroying our relationship.
The second major piece of advice I failed to take was the advice to go to law school instead of going straight into the workforce. Now I’m forced to reinvent myself at age 50 because I don’t have a profession to earn a living now that my job is coming to an end. The third piece of advice I should have taken was a counsel I ignored on two separate occasions: to serve at headquarters rather than taking a third and then a fourth consecutive assignment abroad. The third assignment abroad put me in dangerously close proximity to marriage-destroying temptations. The fourth assignment continued that risky trend. It also put me in a position of responsibility with limited preparation and no support. It did not set me up for a fifth assignment with adequate support and mentoring.
What makes you stubborn? I’ve never thought about this. Am I stubborn? I’m sure my wife would say so. Let me count the ways. It might be easiest to explore this in reverse chronological order. I was stubbornly pessimistic when my wife was telling me to stop being so negative about the future. Why? Fear. I’m truly afraid of the future. I use pessimism to mitigate disappointment, and to remind myself to be vigilant.
Sometimes I have been stubborn when I thought I knew something, even when I did not. For example, I could’ve sworn there was no office supply store in a particular neighborhood once. My wife insisted otherwise. She was right, and I was wrong. I don’t know why I was stubborn about that. I sincerely believed I was right, until proved wrong. Perhaps sometimes I am overconfident about my knowledge. I think I spent much of life assuming I knew more than other people. I habitually underestimated others. I wonder whether perhaps my mother spent too much time telling me I was special, and I spent too much time believing that. Perhaps I then formed the bad habit of overestimating myself and underestimating others.
Perhaps I stubbornly stick to routines too automatically, and perhaps am relatively inflexible. I hate to change my sleeping, eating and exercise patterns. I’m very set in my ways. The routines comfort me. When I must stray from them, I start to doubt myself more than usual.