When is it Acceptable to Break a Promise? Why our Word Defines Who We Are.
- Kris J. Simpson
- 2 days ago
- 8 min read
I met up with Renee for tea that afternoon, something we always did since graduating from university, which feels like ages ago. Just like back then, our get-togethers were all about diving into deep conversations that most of our friends wouldn’t really get, since they usually stuck to surface-level stuff. Even though we both have psychology degrees and work in totally different jobs now, we still share a passion for figuring out why people act the way they do.
There was this cozy little café we always went to — it had super friendly staff and felt like our hangout spot. We could dive into long, philosophical conversations for hours, really digging into all sorts of ideas. Plus, it was one of the few places where we could chill for ages without worrying about giving up our table. But sometimes, we’d get deeper and share our biggest secrets, trusting each other completely. We had this unspoken agreement to keep those secrets safe, even though we knew the saying, “two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.”
After getting our tea, we sat down at our usual table in the far back of the café, away from any distractions. On this particular day, Renee wasn’t her spirited self, looking drawn and tired, as if she were being weighed down by an internal force. I envisioned her with an albatross around her neck, a metaphor from Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” in which a sailor who shoots a friendly albatross is forced to wear its carcass around his neck as punishment. When she opened up and explained, I knew the albatross was a suitable metaphor.
She took a sip of her tea, looking like she needed a moment to find her courage. Then she looked up at me seriously and said, “I’ve been feeling really confused lately, and I don’t know why.” I stayed quiet, letting her keep talking.
“I told my husband I’d always be loyal to him, that I’d be faithful no matter what — good times or bad…” She paused again, her body tensing up as if she was trying to hold back everything she needed to say. “But I don’t love him anymore. I’ve tried, but it’s just not there, and I’m really miserable. I can’t keep doing this.”
“What is holding you back?” I asked her. She paused, looking down for a moment before tilting her head back up and replying, “Shame.”
This didn’t surprise me in the least bit, since I knew she’d been struggling with her relationship for years. There were always rumours about her husband cheating, and honestly, he seemed like the textbook definition of a narcissist to me. Ever since she met him, I hoped she’d think twice, but she saw something in him that I just didn’t get. To me, he was the real issue — not her. And there’s no shame in saying that.
We had a much-needed chat that day. She did most of the talking while I was just there, reflecting her thoughts to her like a mirror. But afterward, I couldn’t shake off her struggle. Why would she feel ashamed for wanting to step away from someone who didn’t value her and wasn’t putting in the effort to fix their relationship?
I totally get it; they were together for 10 years, built a life, bought a house, a car, had a dog and a cat, and at one point, they were really committed and happy. But honestly, that was ages ago in my eyes. Why was she feeling all this guilt?
This got me thinking about what Renee was dealing with, and honestly, I’ve been in the same boat before. I’ve made commitments too, and it can be tough to break them — even when it’s in my best interest to do so.
Afterwards, I decided to put my psychology degree to work, hoping to discover where this strange human behaviour stems from and why we can feel ashamed when we break our word — even when we are right, and they are wrong.
I began my investigation in a familiar territory — the Ego, the part of our psyche that we struggle to live with, yet paradoxically cannot live without. It’s crucial to start here, so please bear with me as I break this down piece by piece. I will eventually tie everything together.
Our Ego is an essential part of our psyche that helps us navigate the world as a connected, yet distinct entity. It provides us with our identity, enabling us to move cautiously through our environment as we interact with people, places, and things. This process allows us to maintain a sense of who we are and what we need to survive.
The development of the Ego typically begins around age 2 to 4, when we start using words like “I,” “me,” and “mine!” (an extra emphasis on the exclamation mark!)
Our Ego continues to evolve throughout adolescence and into our young adulthood. For those with a high level of self-awareness, this development can last a lifetime. Although it may not be the easiest path — since it requires a lot of self-discovery and confronting aspects of ourselves that we may not like — the alternative can lead to a rigid personality that is likely to encounter much friction in life. One sign of a rigid ego is saying “no” more often than “yes.”
The Ego is like the sandcastle we build in childhood, attempting to fortify it throughout our adolescent years, knowing that the tide will inevitably come in and try to sweep it away. As young adults, we create a moat that not everyone can cross and might even add a dragon, which we are ready to unleash on anyone we feel has trespassed against us.
In one of my favourite books from author Michael Singer, The Untethered Soul, he describes the Ego as the false self, and depicts a house as a metaphor for the structure we build to protect us from harm.
He writes:
“Imagine that consciousness is like the sun, and its light is always shining, always trying to come into the house of your being. When you were very young, the house had no walls — the light poured in from every direction. You were open, radiant, fearless, and totally okay with everything.
Then something disturbing happened — somebody yelled at you, you fell and got hurt, you felt rejected, you didn’t get what you wanted. That created pain, and you didn’t like the feeling of pain passing through you.
So you built a wall. You said, ‘I don’t like this feeling. I’m going to block it out. I’m going to close off that part of the house.”
One of the most important things we need to know is that the building blocks of our Ego are our words. Language is how we describe ourselves and our relation to the world, so when we make promises to ourselves and to others, we are not only committing, we’re putting another brick in the structure of our being.
What we say to ourselves and to others, as well as the actions we take, should not be taken lightly. If you remove a block from the tower you have painstakingly built, you might find yourself exclaiming “Jenga!” as you watch your inner world come tumbling down.
Language is not just a tool that the Ego uses; it is the primary building material that shapes its identity.
In the realm of social contract theory, philosophers such as Thomas Hobbes and Jean-Jacques Rousseau emphasized the importance of keeping one’s word and of establishing mutual agreements as the foundation of society. Without verbal and written agreements (language), our societies would descend into chaos.
Moreover, the French philosopher Albert Camus stated, “It’s only when we set boundaries, or say no, that we truly understand who we are and define ourselves through our limits.”
Now that we understand the importance of language in developing the Ego, let’s connect it to our relationships with ourselves and others, and discover why, when the story we have told ourselves and others takes an unexpected turn, it can bring us feelings of guilt and shame.
When we embark on a new path in life, it’s essential first to envision it and build a narrative around it. We must take that initial step and, more importantly, continue with the subsequent steps. This process supports our Ego and brings it health and vitality, preventing it from deconstructing and turning in on itself.
When we embark on a new journey with others, we are all closely observing each other’s steps, ensuring we stay aligned with our common goal. When they step out of line, beyond our boundaries, we need to have a mature conversation with them, one that doesn’t include bitterness coming from a bruised Ego.
Suppose you are part of the dark triad society, a narcissist, Machiavellian, or a sociopath, well. In that case, I already know you are not reading this article, so I don’t have to exchange niceties while explaining why these types of people show no remorse when breaking social contracts, as they are only out for themselves at the expense of others. They are parasites of our society and should be engaged with only at your own peril. If you get burned once, heed the heat and don’t jump back into the fire.
It’s often said, “We’re only as good as our word” or “I am my word.” I don’t want to sound preachy, but I need to emphasize an essential and perhaps obvious point: if we’re going to build long-lasting, meaningful relationships in business, with friends, and in romantic partnerships, we must demonstrate that we are trustworthy.
However, people don’t always get along, and egos can clash. What should we do when we find ourselves in a situation where we are upholding a contract while the other party prioritizes their comfort over their integrity? If we conform to their behaviour, does that mean we are compromising our own integrity? Do we experience an identity crisis, like my friend Renee, when so much of her life was built around a marriage?
So the question might become: How best to break a social contract?
With integrity.
Accepting that you cannot change others while remaining open to making changes within yourself is essential. Acting without integrity would involve using anger to intimidate someone into compliance.
As tempting as it may be, you should avoid coercing or manipulating others, as this will only lead to resentment. Eventually, they will realize that you tried to deceive them, and nobody likes feeling tricked.
Be virtuous and honourable — sure, that sounds like a great goal, but at what cost? If you hold on for too long, as my friend Renee does, you start to lose yourself as others’ infringements blur you out.
Finally, it is crucial to have the wisdom to know when it’s time to walk away. Recognize that this may take time, so be sure to give yourself some grace.
As I sat on the beach, thinking about Renee and her struggles, I watched the tide come in, inching closer to my bare feet nestled in the sand. With each rhythmic wave, the water drew nearer, taking the sand back out to sea and reshaping the beach. I told myself that sometimes it’s better to let the tide wash away what you’ve built, leaving you with a clean slate to start building again.
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