The Games We Play—and the Freedom We Avoid
Unconsciously—without being aware—we often play what Eric Berne called a game. A psychological game follows a simple but costly logic: I behave in ways that provoke you to respond so I can justify how I already feel about you—or even about myself.
These games allow us to avoid responsibility. If I can blame you for how I feel, I don’t have to examine my own role in the dynamic. The payoff is subtle but powerful: I get to be right, to be innocent, and to avoid the discomfort that real change requires.
It’s human nature to avoid pain—even the kind of pain that fosters growth.
Reflection prompt:
Where in my life do I feel justified, certain, or morally superior—and what might that certainty be protecting me from?
Blame as Emotional Insurance
If I can blame you for my frustration, disappointment, or sense of being undervalued, I don’t have to feel responsible for staying in a relationship, workplace, or pattern that no longer serves me. The game spares me from asking harder questions: Why do I remain? What am I avoiding? What do I actually want?
Judgment plays a central role here. When I judge others as deficient, selfish, or unworthy, I grant myself permission to treat them with contempt, distance, or indifference. Judgment soothes the ego. It creates a fleeting sense of superiority—and superiority can feel reassuring when we are secretly unsure of ourselves.
A familiar example:
Consider a manager who feels chronically disrespected by their team. They interpret questions as challenges and feedback as insubordination. Over time, their defensiveness hardens into rigidity. The team responds with disengagement, confirming the manager’s belief: People don’t respect authority anymore.
The game succeeds. Awareness does not.
When the Game Turns Inward
The same dynamic works internally. When we carry unexamined self-judgments—I’m not enough, I can’t trust people, nothing ever works out—we may unconsciously train others to treat us in ways that confirm those beliefs.
We then conclude, “See? This is just how people are.”
The loop closes. The game is preserved.
At this point, unconscious assumptions begin to masquerade as truth.
Reflection prompt:
What emotional outcome do I seem to recreate in different relationships or work settings—even when the people involved change?
Defenses: Necessary, Costly, and Often Overused
To protect ourselves from the discomfort of self-examination, we develop an elaborate set of psychological defenses. These defenses are not pathologies; they are adaptations. They shield us from realities we once could not bear.
The trouble begins with overuse.
When defenses dominate, they limit our ability to respond creatively and appropriately to the present moment. In my experience, the more emotionally secure a person is, the less defensive they need to be. Conversely, insecurity fuels defensiveness—and success or intelligence does not necessarily reduce it.
In fact, the more educated or accomplished someone is, the more sophisticated their defenses often become. External validation—degrees, titles, achievements—cannot substitute for inner security.
As James Hollis has wryly observed, those with significant wounds are often drawn to the helping professions. When the wound is tended, the individual becomes a wounded healer. When it is not, they risk becoming a wounded wounder—someone who unknowingly passes their pain on to others.
The lens through which they see the world was shaped early in life. When unconscious, that lens quietly sabotages the very things they most deeply desire.
Responsibility as a Threshold, Not a Technique
Growth begins when we are secure enough to acknowledge our own unfinished business—our wounds, self-limiting beliefs, and nonproductive behaviors—without collapsing into shame or defensiveness.
This is not self-improvement. It is self-responsibility.
Self-acceptance, forgiveness, and self-compassion are not indulgences; they are prerequisites for transformation. As Paul Tillich wrote, grace arises when we accept ourselves even when we feel unacceptable.
From this place, our presence changes. The compassion born of healing allows us to be far more effective—as leaders, coaches, therapists, teachers, parents, managers, and friends.
As Marion Woodman beautifully stated:
“To be psychologically free is to be confident in our own inner world, responsible for our strengths and weaknesses, consciously loving ourselves—and therefore able to love others.”
The Ongoing Work
I am wary of anyone who claims to be fully self-aware. In some traditions, those who claim enlightenment are assumed not to be. We are all works in progress.
One of the great dangers of believing we have “done our work” is this: when conflict arises, it must be the other person’s issue. Certainty returns. Curiosity disappears. The game resumes.
Freedom does not come from perfection, but from humility and ongoing awareness.
Final reflection:
Where might curiosity serve me better than certainty right now?
In the next post, we’ll explore what I call our security operations—the personal “homeland defense strategies” we deploy to protect the self, often at the cost of intimacy, creativity, and freedom.