Dancing with Self-Complexity

welcoming our inner contradictions, part one of my complexity series

I’ve wrestled with my self-identity for as long as I can remember. I’ve always felt like my understanding of myself has existed across multiple spectra, gradients, and polarities. Growing up, I idolized Yao Ming, the only Asian NBA player at the time, and our shared last names only furthered my dream of becoming a professional athlete. I also wanted to perform at a high level in academics, just like my parents who both have PhDs. This duality extended to my interests in school, where I found joy in both algebra and art. These competing desires left me feeling like a walking exemplar of complexities, never fully belonging to one friend group or committed to one thing.

Holding these polarities carried over into adulthood. In college, I studied EECS, a major unanimously associated with the upper echelon of talent who also didn’t know how to shower¹. Feeling out of place, I often found myself studying alone, only hiking up to Soda Hall when I needed help on a problem set.

Even today, I’m often misunderstood. I tell people that I haven’t had a lease in five years and the first thing they say is “Oh, so you’re like a digital nomad.” It couldn’t be further from the truth. In this season of life, I crave the rootedness of a home, the warmth of a neighborhood, and the stability of having a routine. But alas, even I don’t know how to fully explain that the only practical way right now to fully express my multidimensional identity and ambitions is to live seasonally, bopping around from one sublet to another.

It feels like I've been on an eternal quest to discover the secret key to unlock the mystery of "How do I fit in?" In many ways, aren't we all on a similar journey? After all, seeking a sense of belonging and connection is primal, dating back to ancient times of cave drawings and ember flames.

But in modern times, this question often leads us astray.

We imagine ourselves as a lone puzzle piece, searching for the perfect spot in some pre-existing picture. We wander through life, trying to contort ourselves to fit into spaces that weren't designed for us. We look enviously at others who seem to have it all figured out—tight-knit friend groups whose families even hang out together, or group chats that never stop buzzing. We strive for an unrealistic ideal, picturing ourselves and our friends as a polished boy band or K-pop group, flawlessly in sync while each member maintains their unique flair.

It's more like wielding a 10-color pen, each hue representing a different facet of my personality. Honoring my inner complexities and polarities means learning to use this multi-colored instrument with intention and grace. Trying to choose just one color would neglect the magical utility of having all these other hues at my disposal. Conversely, attempting to use all the colors simultaneously would lead to chaos - the pen breaking under pressure or the colors blending into an indistinct muddle.

For years, I've been sitting with a plethora of self-inquiries. I've wondered where I want to live that allows me to embody my whole self. I've debated which parts of my personality I liked the most, only to realize that labeling traits as "good" or "bad" is an oversimplification. I've asked myself why I have many eclectic pockets of distinct friends and not one "squad".

Despite getting to know myself better these past few years, I still find it hard to describe myself to others. It's quite simple. When I embrace the complexity of my identity without neglecting or hiding any part, it feels effortless. There's a sense of coherence, where all the facets flow together naturally.

The real complexity arises when we try to force our identities into neat, explainable packages, or when we believe we must resemble others to fit in. It's in the pressure to have everything figured out, or the notion that we must confine ourselves to a specific niche. While niches might be good for business, they can be suffocating for the soul. As humans, we’re not meant to be easily categorized or uniformly consistent. We're multifaceted and ever-evolving. Embracing that complexity, rather than resisting it, is where unity and wholeness lies.

Self-Complexity: A Shock Absorber for Stress

As I've learned to integrate my own identity and experienced the benefits anecdotally, I've discovered that accepting this inner complexity can improve resilience to depression and illness. It turns out, nurturing a complex self-identity has evidence-backed benefits beyond the warm, fuzzy feelings of living in alignment. A study conducted by Professor Patricia Linville published evidence linking stress-related illnesses to how we perceive the diverse and distinct parts of our identity. As I read about this research, I resonated with the findings, which confirmed why I’ve felt more resilient during certain periods of my life compared to others. Through quantitative measures², researchers showed that subjects higher in self-complexity were less prone to depression, perceived stress, and physical illnesses following high stress events.

But first, we need to define what self-complexity even is.

Self-Complexity: the number of distinct aspects that make up one's self-concept, including roles, relationships, activities, and traits.

Self-complexity measures both the number of cognitive self-aspects (parts of your identity) and the distinctiveness of each self-aspect from the others. This multi-factor measurement provides a more nuanced understanding of an individual's identity structure. For example, someone whose activities all revolve around their profession wouldn't score as high in self-complexity as a baseball player who also volunteers at a soup kitchen and moonlights as a slam poetry contestant.

Self-aspects form an interconnected network, with only certain aspects activated in specific contexts. For people with low self-complexity, a bigger proportion of who they are "turns on" across different experiences, leading to more extreme reactions to both good and bad events.

During my first job at Uber, while living in SF, I moved through the world with low self-complexity. I worked a lot, hung out with coworkers on weekends, and I even took an Uber to and from the office everyday. We wore matching Patagonias, stayed past 7PM to get free dinners, and talked about our work at parties. When I was laid off 10 months into the job during the peak of the pandemic, I was devastated. I remember double-dipping financially into severance and stimmy checks, knowing I was making more money than my peers who were spared and still employed, but internally, I felt like I was bankrupt.

On the flip side, those with high self-complexity have a broader range of self-aspects. Their identity isn't as fully invested in any single area, so they don't react as intensely when something affects a particular aspect. It's like their sense of self is spread out, providing a buffer against the ups and downs of life.

The study's findings shed light on the nuanced crossover effect between self-complexity and stressful periods. At low stress levels, those with lower self-complexity fared better, but as stress increased, higher self-complexity became advantageous, serving as a diffuser or shock absorber. In other words, for those with less self-complexity, the highs are high, but the lows are low.

From my perspective, the world is becoming increasingly faster and more complex. With the modern stresses of depleted attention spans, hyperconnected loneliness, and a crisis of purpose, there are two paths—reduce stress or increase self-complexity. Either eliminate the external stresses by going offline and becoming a homesteader, or look for ways to increase self-complexity, such as finding hobbies or participating in communities. While I’ve briefly toyed with the simple lifestyle of tiny homes or #vanlife, I’ve concluded that I want to evolve forward with the future, which means embodying a multidimensional identity. In our increasingly complex world, developing high self-complexity may be more crucial than ever for maintaining inner stability and human agency.

Peeling another layer back, the study also found that it was specifically self-complexity, not just the quantity of self-aspects, that proved to be the key factor in buffering against stress. This suggests that having diverse, distinct facets of identity is more beneficial than simply accumulating similar aspects. For example, if you’re a tech startup founder, then gardening or volunteering at a soup kitchen would create a more resilient self-identity than coding side projects and writing an AI-related Substack. Debating credit card churning and angel investing deals with fellow tech bros while sipping on AG1 at Dolores Park isn’t cultivating self-complexity.

My Musings on Self-Complexity

While these research findings resonated with my experiences, they also prompted me to reflect more deeply on how self-complexity manifests in my own life. As I’ve immersed myself in the world of coaching, I’ve become familiar with the Enneagram and Internal Family Systems, which describes the self through personality and internal parts. But in some way, going deeper left me wondering about the “less deep stuff”. Things like roles, hobbies, interests, and goals.

In retrospect, I’ve somehow cultivated high self-complexity, a journey that began with feeling like an outsider and asking myself lots of questions. I’ve pondered where to live and questioned the necessity of a single home. I’ve explored the diversity of my friends, ranging from rugged alpinist to creative visionary to down-to-earth entrepreneur, and marveled at my genuine connection with each of them. I've examined my identity beyond my career, deconstructing work into its core elements. Throughout this process, I've pondered how to maintain childlike curiosity and adventurousness while embracing newfound wisdom and responsibility.

In the beginning, the desire to be a human beyond my job title was faint, like the first sight of alpenglow at sunrise. Trying to find activities, places, and people that resonated with me felt like juggling an ever-changing array of objects, sometimes I was tossing softballs, other times flaming torches, never quite sure what would fall into my hands next.

On a relational level, I strive to show up as a dynamic blend of roles - partner, son, friend, coach, mentor, and random dude on the internet. My activities reflect a thrilling tug-of-war between surfing, skiing, and savoring the big city life in NYC. You literally can't do any of these simultaneously, yet instead of forcing a choice, I've chosen to adapt to this beautiful complexity by living and working in seasons.

While engineering was my academic playground, I'm now exploring the uncharted territories of creativity and spirituality in an Artist's Way group. I’ve run a marathon without claiming the 'runner' label, and live without a lease but don't consider myself a digital nomad. I coach people through career transitions and life's challenges, yet shy away from labels like "career coach" or "life coach". The hesitancy to narrow down and niche in is not a fear of living up to a label, but rather an intentional choice to maintain the flexibility to draw from a variety of experiences and perspectives in my coaching practice.

Internally, I'm a collection of seemingly contradictory traits that somehow form a coherent whole. There's the logical, analytical planner in me, coexisting with an intuitive side that goes off of vibes. I'm fiercely competitive in sports and work, yet quite mellow in social settings. Taking a mythopoetic view, I resonate with the Jungian archetypes of the King, Warrior, Magician, and Lover. These timeless roles offer guidance in leadership, courage, wisdom, and connection, allowing me to call upon different strengths as situations demand.

In a more contemporary frame, I try to embody the personas of the athlete, artist, and entrepreneur. These roles allow me to live out my values in unique ways: the athlete's discipline extends beyond schedules, the artist's creativity transcends mere content creation, and the entrepreneur's service reaches beyond financial gain. My aspirations mirror this inner complexity: to be an effective coach, a great writer, and some day, a devoted family man.

Complex Beings in a Complex World

“All the errors and follies of magic, religion, and mystical traditions are outweighed by the one great wisdom they contained: the awareness of humanity’s organic embeddedness in a complex natural system.”
- Philip Slater

As I've embraced my own complexity, I've come to realize that this isn't just a personal journey - it's a reflection of the intricate world we all inhabit. The reality is, we can't make the external world any less complex. Sure, we could try to escape to a cottagecore fantasy or go full-on minimalist, but our relationships with the physical environment, political landscape, and technology are only going to get more intricate. Climate change is going to throw more curveballs with tipping points and natural disasters. The geopolitical landscape is a messy canvas of conflicts and alliances. And the US election process has been a chaotic circus for eight years and counting. Things aren't getting simpler—they're careening toward more complexity at breakneck speed.

We often feel like our lives are complicated, but the truth is, they're actually complex. This isn't just wordplay – it's a crucial distinction that shapes how we navigate our existence. We're not just dealing with a tangled mess of simple cause-and-effect relationships. Instead, we're complex beings moving through interconnected systems. Every human being can be viewed as a walking, talking ecosystem of biological processes, a neural network of firing synapses, and an emotional rollercoaster all rolled into one.

In this increasingly complex world, viewing ourselves as individual complex beings can create a sense of stability and ease. By acknowledging our inner polarities, we can cultivate what poet John Keats described as ‘negative capability’. This concept refers to the capacity to accept uncertainty and sit with ambiguity, rather than rushing for control or determining immediate answers. It’s the ability to be open to a vast sea of possibilities and the intricacies of existence without trying to fit everything into neat, rational boxes. In the context of self-complexity, negative capability allows us to hold seemingly contradictory aspects of ourselves without feeling compelled to resolve or eliminate them. It's about being at peace with the 'both/and' nature of our identities, rather than insisting on an 'either/or' perspective.”

By viewing ourselves through the possible selves³ model, we can begin to see how we've been carrying around a whole cast of characters in our hearts and minds. This model suggests that our identity is shaped not just by who we currently are, but also by who we might become. Each of us is not just one static self, but rather a collection of potential selves we hope to become, and perhaps some we even fear becoming.

Our modern stories are filled with examples who exhibit high self-complexity. Socially awkward Peter Parker coexists with the daring Spider-Man. Elle Woods in Legally Blonde proves you can be both blonde and a brilliant lawyer. Ice Princess is symbiotic evidence of what happens when physics geek and graceful figure skater coexist in one human. These aren't just fun stories—they're reminders that we all contain multitudes⁴. Like these characters, when we choose to accept the full spectrum of our identity, we’re better equipped to handle life’s curveballs, but also reach our full potential.

Dancing with Self-Complexity

Given the inherent complexity of both ourselves and our world, how can we learn to move through life with grace and authenticity?

We need to learn to dance with complexity⁵, as Donella Meadows, the godmother of complexity science, would say. In our dynamic lives, interacting with other human beings and complex systems, we must recognize that our influence is temporary at best and complete control is an illusion. This realization brings us full circle to surrendering to the notion that as complex beings, we can never fully understand or be in control, but we can learn to move in harmony.

Meadows' view on complex systems can be slightly modified to apply to the individual complex being: “Self-organizing, nonlinear, feedback systems are inherently unpredictable. They are not controllable. They are understandable only in the most general way. The goal of foreseeing the future exactly and preparing for it perfectly is unrealizable. The idea of making a complex [being] system do just what you want it to do can be achieved only temporarily, at best. We can never fully understand [ourselves] our world, not in the way our reductionistic science has led us to expect.”

Our inability to perfectly foresee the future is not a bug, but a feature of our complex identities and the complex systems we inhabit. By fostering our complex, sometimes contradictory selves, we not only become more resilient and adaptable, but we also open ourselves to a more authentic, immersive way of being in the world. Sensing our way through life's twists and turns, and learning to dance with the complexity around us, we can navigate this wild, wonderful, complex world with greater resilience, inner capacities, and flow.

1. This meme is quite prevalent.

2. The study used the College Student Life Events Scale (CSLES) to measure stress, the Cohen-Hoberman Inventory of Physical Symptoms (CHIPS) to measure physical symptoms, the Center for Epidemiologic Studies Depression Scale (CES-D) to measure depression, the Perceived Stress Scale (PSS) to measure perceived stress, the Self-reported illness list to measure occurrence of specific illnesses, and the Self-complexity sorting task to measure self-complexity.

3. The Possible Selves model was developed by Hazel Markus and Paula Nurius.

4. Walt Whitman said:
“Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)”

5. Dancing with Systems by Donella Meadows, AKA the 🐐