I was 47 years old before I understood why every romantic relationship in my life followed the same painful pattern.

Standing in my efficiency apartment after yet another relationship had ended, I found myself having the same conversation I'd had a dozen times before: "Why do I keep choosing women who are emotionally unavailable? Why does love always feel like I'm trying to earn something just out of reach?"

The answer was staring at me from a photograph on my dresser - a picture of my mother, Delores Berlack.

My mother and I had a strained relationship when I was a child. She was angry at my father because he left her to fight in Vietnam and was killed in action just seven months after my birth. He never got to see me. Her anger spilled onto me, and it manifested in her not showing me affection, not listening to me, not seeing my worth as a son and human being.

For years - decades, actually - I had unconsciously been seeking the unconditional love and validation I never received from my mother. I was attracted to women who were emotionally unavailable, recreating the familiar dynamic of trying to earn love that felt just out of reach. I didn't even know I was doing it.

That's the dangerous thing about lacking self-awareness: you can't change patterns you don't even know exist.

The Price of Living Blind

Here's what research from the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology tells us: people with low self-awareness repeat destructive patterns in relationships, careers, and personal habits at significantly higher rates. They don't choose to repeat these patterns. They literally cannot see them happening.

Dr. Tasha Eurich, an organizational psychologist who studied self-awareness for years, found that while 95% of people think they're self-aware, only 10-15% actually are. That means the vast majority of us walk through life making decisions based on unconscious patterns, unexamined beliefs, and stories we don't even realize we're telling ourselves.

For divorced men over 40, this gap between perceived and actual self-awareness destroys everything we're trying to rebuild. You think you understand why your marriage failed. You think you know what you need in your next relationship. You think you've learned from your mistakes.

But have you really looked in the mirror?

The Three Mirrors You Must Face

True self-awareness requires looking into three distinct mirrors, each reflecting a different aspect of who you are:

Mirror 1: The Pattern Mirror

This mirror shows you the recurring themes in your life - the same conflicts that keep appearing in different relationships, the same financial mistakes made in different circumstances, the same self-sabotaging behaviors dressed up in new situations.

When my mother died, I had to learn to see her for the woman she was: Delores Berlack, flaws and all, and not just as my mother who was supposed to be perfect. More importantly, I had to see how my relationship with her had shaped every romantic relationship I'd ever had.

I had been choosing partners who couldn't fully see me, just like my mother couldn't fully see me. I had been working overtime to prove my worth to women who were emotionally distant, recreating the dynamic I knew from childhood. The pattern was so familiar, it felt like home - even though that home was painful.

The question this mirror asks: What patterns keep repeating in your life, and what childhood experiences might be driving them?

Mirror 2: The Identity Mirror

This mirror reveals who you actually are beneath all the roles and titles that define you - beyond "husband," "father," "provider," "the guy who has it all together."

Divorce strips away those external identities brutally and efficiently. Suddenly, you're not "John's dad who coaches Little League" - you're "the guy who sees his kids every other weekend." You're not "the husband who handles everything" - you're "the divorced guy starting over."

When those external identities get ripped away, what remains? That's the crucial question the identity mirror forces you to answer.

During my darkest period, I had to confront who I was when I wasn't defined by my marriage, my home, my car, or my comfortable income. Stripped down to basics in that homeless shelter, I discovered something profound: the core of who I was - the kid from the South Bronx who survived being raised by a grieving single mother, who earned his way to Phillips Academy despite having nothing, who kept getting back up no matter how hard life knocked him down.

That man was still there. He'd always been there. But I'd buried him under layers of roles and expectations.

The question this mirror asks: Who are you when all the external labels are stripped away?

Mirror 3: The Motivation Mirror

This is the most uncomfortable mirror to face. It reveals the real reasons behind your actions - not the reasons you tell yourself or others, but the actual motivations driving your behavior.

I had to ask myself brutal questions: Was I pursuing certain career goals because they truly aligned with my values, or because I was trying to prove something to people whose opinions shouldn't matter? Was I dating certain women because we were compatible, or because being with them made me look good? Was I spending money in certain ways because it served my real needs, or because I was trying to fill emotional voids with material things?

Research published in Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes shows that people engage in what's called "motivated reasoning" - we create logical-sounding justifications for decisions that are actually driven by unconscious emotional needs. We tell ourselves stories about why we do what we do, but those stories often hide the real motivations.

The question this mirror asks: What are you really trying to accomplish with your choices, and what unmet needs are actually driving your behavior?

The Grandfather's Gift: How Stories Shape Self-Awareness

One of my most enduring memories is of the day my grandfather, Weston Benjamin Berlack, taught me how to tie a tie. But the real gift he gave me that day went far deeper than mastering a Windsor knot.

Grandpa always told me stories when I was a little boy about our family history. He told me about his grandfather, the Prussian Jewish immigrant who came to Florida. He shared stories of growing up in Harlem in the 1920s and 1930s, about not being able to cross certain streets into Italian or Jewish neighborhoods because of the color of his skin. He told me about meeting my grandmother at a bus stop on a rainy day after she'd just broken up with her boyfriend - a story that always made him smile.

These stories did something essential: they told me who I am. He was connecting me to a legacy of people who had faced impossible odds and found ways to overcome them. These stories gave me the self-awareness and confidence to withstand all the troubles of my life.

When I was very young and attempted to steal a bag of potato chips from the neighborhood store, my mother whipped me badly. But I don't remember the whipping. What I remember is my grandfather sitting me down on his bed as he told me, in a very low tone: "Son, it starts with this." He placed a pencil on the nightstand. "It then becomes this." He placed a book next to the pencil. "Then it will be this." He moved a large lamp next to the book.

Maintaining his low tone, he said something I never forgot: "We've always been on the right side of the law." And as he pointed to the items on the nightstand, he said: "Berlacks don't do that," then turned on his heel and left the room.

That moment gave me something essential for self-awareness: a clear understanding of who I am based on where I come from. Foundation, not limitation.

The Archaeology of Your Name

Here's an exercise that transformed my self-awareness: I researched my name - first, middle, and last. What do they mean? Where do they come from? What's the story of the people who carried these names before me?

My name connects me to that Prussian Jewish immigrant, to my grandmother the Native American woman, to my grandfather who worked as a private detective and in construction, to my father who died serving his country before he could even meet me.

Understanding what my name represents helped me ask crucial questions: How does this man - the one whose name carries this history - handle adversity? How does he rebuild? What's he capable of achieving?

But here's something powerful to consider: if you discover that your name was made up by your parents or that it has no dictionary definition, you have a power that nobody else has. You get to give meaning to your own name based on how you treat others and how they subsequently see you. You're not bound by historical definitions or ancestral expectations. You get to write the first chapter of what your name represents.

That's ultimate freedom and responsibility rolled into one.

The Pattern Recognition Protocol

Want to develop real self-awareness about your patterns? Here's the systematic approach that works:

Week 1: Document Your Relationship History

List every significant romantic relationship you've had. For each one, write down:

• What initially attracted you to this person

• What the major conflicts were about

• How the relationship ended

• What role you played in those conflicts and endings

Week 2: Identify the Common Threads

Look across all those relationships. What patterns emerge? Do you consistently choose partners with similar traits? Do conflicts arise around the same issues? Do you respond to problems in predictable ways?

Week 3: Trace the Origins

For each pattern you identified, ask: Where did this pattern come from? What early life experiences might have created this tendency? How did your family of origin handle similar situations?

Week 4: Define Your Non-Negotiables

Based on what you've learned, identify what I call your "non-negotiables" - the things you've learned you cannot compromise on without undermining the foundation of any relationship. These might include respect, shared core values, emotional maturity, alignment on children, or personal responsibility.

These aren't arbitrary standards. They're lessons learned from your patterns about what you need to function well in relationships and what creates environments where love can actually flourish.

The Uncomfortable Questions That Create Breakthroughs

Real self-awareness requires asking questions that most men avoid. Here are the ones that created the biggest breakthroughs for me:

What am I afraid people will discover about me if they really knew me? This question reveals the gap between your public persona and your authentic self - and that gap is where self-deception thrives.

What behaviors do I judge most harshly in others? Often, the traits we can't stand in other people are the traits we're unconsciously displaying ourselves. Psychologists call this projection, and it's a major barrier to self-awareness.

What do I repeatedly tell myself about why things haven't worked out? The stories we tell ourselves about our failures often protect us from uncomfortable truths. "I just haven't found the right person yet" might really mean "I keep choosing unavailable people because I'm afraid of real intimacy."

What would the people who know me best say are my biggest blind spots? Your friends, family, and ex-partners often see patterns in you that you can't see in yourself. Having the courage to ask them - and really listen - can be transformative.

What am I trying to prove, and to whom? Many of our decisions are driven by unconscious desires to prove something to someone - often people from our past whose opinions shouldn't matter anymore.

The Daily Self-Awareness Practice

Self-awareness requires daily practice. Here's the routine that kept me grounded during my rebuilding period:

Morning Reflection (5 minutes):

• How am I feeling right now, honestly?

• What's driving that feeling?

• What do I need today to show up as my best self?

Evening Review (10 minutes):

• What triggered strong emotions in me today?

• How did I respond to challenges, and why did I respond that way?

• What patterns from my past showed up today?

• What did I learn about myself?

This simple practice creates what researchers call "meta-awareness" - the ability to observe your own thoughts and behaviors from a slightly detached perspective. You develop an internal observer who can notice patterns and make connections that you miss when you're caught up in the moment.

When Self-Awareness Becomes Self-Forgiveness

Here's where self-awareness gets really powerful: once you understand the patterns that have shaped your behavior, you can begin the process of self-forgiveness.

I had to forgive myself for the ways I contributed to my marriage failing. For poor financial decisions that complicated my situation. For times when I wasn't the father I wanted to be. For choices made from fear rather than wisdom. For the years I spent not being true to myself.

But here's the crucial distinction: forgiveness means accepting responsibility without carrying shame. It means learning from your mistakes without being defined by them.

Research from the Journal of Positive Psychology shows that self-compassion - treating yourself with the same kindness you'd offer a good friend - actually increases motivation for positive change. When you can look at your mistakes with understanding rather than harsh judgment, you're more likely to actually change the underlying patterns.

The Foundation for Everything That Follows

Brother, you can't change what you can't see. You can't avoid repeating patterns you don't recognize. You can't build a better future if you don't understand the forces that shaped your past.

Self-awareness is the launch pad for your entire journey above the rim. Without it, every other step - trust, mindset shift, organization, leveraging connections - lacks foundation. With it, everything else becomes possible.

The mirror you're afraid to look into? That's where your freedom lives. On the other side of those uncomfortable questions and painful patterns is the man you're meant to become. You'll discover the man you choose to be with full knowledge of who you are and where you came from.

Your journey to rise above the rim begins with one simple act of courage: looking honestly at yourself and saying, "This is who I've been. Now let me become who I'm meant to be."

The mirror is waiting. What will you see when you finally look?