Unlearning Defensive Behaviour

I often struggle to communicate with my parents.

It feels suffocating. Any attempt at constructive criticism is immediately twisted into a complaint. If I suggest a better way to do something, I am labeled "ungrateful." It is a wall of defensiveness that makes it impossible to be heard or understood.

I used to wonder: Why is it so hard to get through to them?

But recently, while reflecting on my own friction with schoolmates and my partner, I had an uncomfortable epiphany: I do the exact same thing.

"I Don't Need Help" Mentality

I noticed it first in my school projects. When group mates offered ideas, I would often dismiss them—not because their ideas were bad, but because I was already convinced my solution was the efficient one.

I saw it even more clearly during my time working on AfterClass with David Lin.

I remember telling him, with full confidence, that our solution was the absolute best we could come up with. When he tried to guide me toward a more open-minded perspective, I pushed back. In fact, in an unrelated topic, I distinctly remember telling him:

"I don't require any mentorship."

David was shocked. To him, mentorship was the cornerstone of his success. But to me? I told him that my past experiences had taught me that I didn't need anyone else. I could figure it out on my own.

The Root Cause: Independence as a Survival Mechanism

I realized this wasn't just my problem. I saw it in my girlfriend, too—getting highly defensive when a thesis she worked hard on was proven wrong by a quick Google search.

Why do we respond so negatively to being proven wrong? Suddenly, the pieces fell into place.

The common link is Independence and Capability.

In many Asian families, particularly in Singapore, we grow up with these two values drilled into us. You learn from a young age that you cannot rely on anyone. The logic follows: If your own family can't help you, how can you expect strangers to?

So, you adopt the mantra: "If you want something done right, do it yourself."

You grow up under strict expectations. You become the "dependable one." You spend your life cleaning up other people's messes—efficiently, timely, and silently. When you make a mistake, you get berated. When you succeed, it's just "expected."

The Ego of the Dependable

This creates a fragile identity. When your entire self-worth is built on being the person who knows the answer, being proven wrong doesn't just feel like a correction. It feels like a failure of character.

Your ego whispers: How could you be wrong? You are the one who fixes things.

But this mindset is a trap. A life without mistakes is a dull one. If there are no downs, how do you appreciate the ups? By refusing to be wrong, we rob ourselves of the chance to be better.

So, How Do We Fix This?

Recognizing the ego is step one. But "being less defensive" is easier said than done. Here is the framework I am using to deprogram this instinct:

1. Verbalize Your Fallibility
   I have started telling the people close to me: "My judgment isn't always right. I might be wrong here." Saying this out loud before an argument starts lowers the stakes. It gives you permission to be human, rather than an infallible machine.
2. Separate "Worth" from "Correctness"
   I used to think being wrong meant I was incompetent. I am learning that being wrong just means I have new data.
   1. Old Mindset: "They found a mistake. I failed."
   2. New Mindset: "They found a mistake. Now the project is better."
3. The "Clean Up" Rule
   We cannot stop making mistakes. But we can change how we handle them. The goal isn't to be perfect; it's to be constructive. When you unintentionally fuck up:
   1. Own it immediately (no excuses).
   2. Clean it up (fix the issue).
   3. Move on (without lingering guilt or defensiveness).

I thought I didn't have an ego, especially after facing major setbacks in my life. But it turns out, I have a massive ego—specifically when it comes to my competence. And realizing that is the first step to finally getting through to people, including myself.