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Lately the concept of personal integrity has been popping up in my life, and for reasons that most likely are different from the ones you think of when those two words are used. For myself, the ideas of personal integrity, personal transparency, honesty, appropriate candor, and disclosure are all balled up into one thing I cannot cram into a singular term. I don’t know how I can achieve any one of those without achieving, or striving for, all of the other.

The particular thing that resurfaced this question for me was an instance I witnessed of a friend who was reluctant in owning a mistake they had made. They were in the process of making amends with someone they had wronged, but in the effort to do so they were only externally fixing the problem and not really examining or accepting—without excuse or rationalization—the core internal cause, motivation, or issue that created their actions. Had they done that, they may have grown personally from the experience and gained a great deal more credibility with themselves and those around them, in my humble opinion. Instead, it was all a little painful to watch happen, and I felt for everyone involved.

It reminded me of the times that I have done things like this myself. I like to think that I strive to be as honest a person I can, even at the risk of embarrassment or harm, but it has been a journey to reach a point where I consider it a priority of my life. And I still have to think about it to maintain it as a matter of practice. When I procrastinate on doing something, I have to tell myself I am procrastinating and being lazy instead of making the excuse that I needed rest or time to do it correctly. If I have one drink too many, I have to tell myself that I was being weak and wanted the feeling it would give me, and not tell myself that I deserved to let my hair down a little and enjoy myself, or did not see what I was doing. I think we all do these little, life rationalizations, and most of the time they are not really very significant. They’re small. But for me they are moments where I feel I can avoid a slippery slope or an erosion of bigger integrity issues.

The biggest illustration of this concept lies in my career. When I was younger and ambitious to a fault I was one of the best at being the company spin doctor. In fulfilling my role as a leader, or in the way I interpreted then, I saw it necessary to persuade people to see things the way the company wanted them to see it. I viewed people as either on the team or simply working a job, based on what efforts I could get from them or their attitudes about their work. I saw people as work units primarily, whose personal lives outside of my office were only a passing interest. And I hardly ever paused to listen to what I was actually saying, or sometimes asking people to see, say, think, or do.

Overlay on top of this the fact that I was myself leading a dual life. At work I was politically correct, an example of good decorum, a workaholic, a driver, responsible, and somewhat of a pseudo father figure to some. At home, around friends and family, I was a little less restrained. The rascal I think I have always been was a little more evident. My odd sense of humor was openly displayed. I was casual. I would allow myself to do silly and sometimes stupid things, and I didn’t always do the most responsible things. There were things about the way I was outside of work that I would never allow to be seen at work, because at work I had a certain persona I had to project in order to maintain the respect I thought I needed to lead people well.

But over time—and maybe we call this maturing—I grew more and more uncomfortable with keeping those two people separate. I remember a particularly difficult moment in my career and personal life where I felt very alone in a very big office. At the moment I wished I’d had a friend or peer in whom I could have confided, and the lack of one reminded me of the old adage that “it is lonely at the top.” I told myself that that was the price of success, that I bought the whole thing knowingly and willingly, and I even told myself the lie that I had done so in order to best provide for my family and give them all the things they deserved. Lies are funny that way; they keep spinning deeper and deeper into bigger rationalizations.

At some point, I finally realized and had to admit to myself that I had become enamored with power and with material things. It sounds funny to say it that way, because we all associate people drunk with power as those we see widely influential, and that was not my situation. Power in my case was just me being the guy with his hands on the levers of the business, and material things were simply the nice house, nice cars, and all the other trappings of an upper-middle income lifestyle. But, back to my point, I suddenly realized what I had sold myself over to, and I felt ashamed. I began to look back over my career and recognize time after time where I had simply been the company megaphone or coerced others’ decisions and actions in order to achieve results that my employer liked and would reward me for producing.

It was a turning point for me. It was the moment where I began to reach back for the person I remembered, when I was younger, that I wanted to be. I re-read a book I had read during the period I refer to as my Bohemian Days that discussed the concepts of personal history, self awareness, and honesty with one’s self. But it was only a start, because I had a great deal of work to do in the process of trying to bring together the person I was at home and the person I was at work. In time, it became easier, although my career was probably slowed or stalled here and there by it. But over the long haul, people I worked with and people I led became more and more comfortable with that melded, more open person, and respected that person even more than my previous persona. It made me a far better leader.

Then I had to recognize that this principle could and had to be applied to every part of my life, and that work was even harder. It is, in fact, still a work in progress, and likely will be the entirety of my life. But I think the benefits of that pursuit will not only make me a better person, but a better father as well.

As for instance, what will be some of the future conversations I will have to have with my daughters? If and when Megan or Kylee ever ask me questions about those Bohemian Days, how will I answer those questions applying all of those concepts I refer to as being all balled up in one? How can I be honest with my daughters while still giving the best advice and guidance, prevent them from making mistakes that I either made or nearly made?

In the end, I have to fall back to the position of honesty and be able to admit or discuss anything I have said or done. I believe that, just like in my career, it will make me more human to my girls, more credible, and in turn earn the respect from them that will make the advice I offer more valuable to them. I also think that honesty creates trust in several directions; my display of honesty with the girls will show them that I trust them with what I am sharing and how to use it. I like that thought.

Originally published 12/3/09

© 2009 Cody Kilgore. All Rights Reserved worldwide under the Berne Convention. May not be copied or distributed without prior written permission.