Earlier this year I became aware of my ego for the first time — really aware, not just intellectually. I’d heard people talk about ego, self-centeredness, selfishness, pride, fear, control, self-will, and surrender for years. But it was never me. Not really. Then my counselor pointed it out. My first reaction wasn’t gratitude — I wanted a refund. It took time to sink in. But he was right. And now I can’t unsee it.

I was recently given a book recommendation and I learned about the Saboteurs — and the five Sage powers that are supposed to be their antidote: Empathize, Explore, Innovate, Navigate, Activate. The more I sat with it, the more I realized I wasn’t looking at something new. I was looking at language — good, sharp, useful language — for something the Twelve Steps have been quietly building in me all along.

But I don’t want to overstate the comparison. The Saboteurs help me name the problem. The Sage powers describe a healthier state of mind. Both are useful. Neither one, on its own, goes where the Steps go. The Steps don’t end at self-awareness, or even at a healthier mindset. They end at discipleship — an actual relationship with God, carried out in service to other people, for the rest of your life. Positive Intelligence gives you five mental muscles to build. The Twelve Steps give you a Father to walk with.

Seeing the Machinery of Self

The Saboteurs described in Positive Intelligence give names to recurring patterns of thought and behavior — the Judge, Controller, Avoider, Victim, Pleaser, Hyper-Achiever, Hyper-Rational, Hyper-Vigilant, Stickler, and Restless. I don’t see these as ten different things that have taken over my life. I see them more as different expressions of the same underlying problem: self.

The Judge tells me what’s wrong with everyone. The Controller tells me that things need to happen my way. The Avoider tells me not to deal with something uncomfortable. The Victim tells me that what happened to me is the most important part of the story. The Pleaser tells me that I need other people’s approval. The Hyper-Achiever tells me that my worth comes from what I accomplish. The Hyper-Rational tells me that I can think my way out of everything. The Hyper-Vigilant tells me that I need to constantly protect myself from what might happen. The Stickler tells me that things need to be done correctly — often according to my definition of correctly. The Restless one tells me that I need to keep moving, fixing, doing, consuming, or distracting myself rather than simply being still. Different voices. Different strategies. But underneath them is something remarkably familiar: self.

The Big Book uses words like self-will, self-seeking, self-pity, self-reliance, selfishness, resentment, fear, dishonesty, and pride. Those aren’t merely behaviors. They describe ways that self gets placed at the center of my life. The Twelve Steps aren’t primarily about fixing all the individual things that are wrong with me. They’re teaching me to recognize what happens when I put myself at the center — and then they take me somewhere the Saboteur language never could.

Step Three says: “Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.” If I’m honest, much of my difficulty isn’t that I don’t know what I should do. It’s that I want to be the one who decides. I want to control the outcome. I want to make sure people understand me. And when I don’t get what I want, ego produces resentment, fear, anger, anxiety, self-pity, or blame. This is where Innovate actually starts — not as a mental trick, but as surrender opening up a way of living I could never have invented while I was still running things myself.

Step Four asks me to make a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself — not the version of myself I want other people to see, not the version that has an explanation for everything, not the version that blames everyone else. Where am I resentful? Afraid? Trying to control? Seeking approval? Being dishonest with myself? The Saboteur names help me spot these patterns. But the purpose isn’t diagnosis. It’s Empathize turned toward myself — mercy instead of judgment — which is the thing the Judge fights hardest to prevent.

Step Five asks me to admit to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs. Ego wants to maintain an image. It wants to explain, defend, say “Yes, but…” Step Five asks me to drop the defense — not because I’m worthless, but because I can’t change what I’m unwilling to honestly acknowledge.

Steps Six and Seven ask me to become entirely ready to have God remove these defects of character, and to humbly ask Him to remove our shortcomings. I can become fascinated with my own patterns and still remain completely self-centered. I can name every Saboteur, understand where each one came from, and still keep doing exactly what I’ve always done. Knowledge isn’t surrender. The Steps ask something deeper: Am I willing to let go of the way I have been running my life?

Step Ten asks us to continue taking personal inventory and, when we’re wrong, promptly admit it. I can use the Saboteur vocabulary as an early-warning system. Something happens. I get irritated. I feel defensive. I start building a case in my head. That’s the moment to stop and ask: What’s my part? That question interrupts an enormous amount of self-centered thinking. It’s also where Navigate comes in — my inner compass, my values, pointing me back to what actually matters instead of what my ego wants in the moment.

When I notice myself becoming angry, defensive, controlling, anxious, self-righteous, resentful, withdrawn, or desperate for approval, I can pause. I can ask: Which pattern is operating right now? What’s my part? Was I wrong? What would love and tolerance have me do next? Can I turn the outcome over to God? That’s Activate — not more effort, but focused, willing action once I actually know what I need to do. It’s beginning to feel like a very practical way of bringing the Steps into the moment when I actually need them.

The Realization

I think about that moment I wanted a refund. That resistance was probably my ego trying to protect the story I’d been telling about myself. The counselor was just honest enough — or brave enough — to say it plainly. I don’t think my discovery is that I have an ego. I think I’ve had one all along. The discovery is that I am finally beginning to recognize it while it is operating.

But naming the ego and building healthier mental muscles was never going to be the whole answer, and I don’t think it was ever meant to be. The Saboteurs can tell me “there I go again.” The Sage powers can help me respond in the moment. But only the Steps put me in an actual, ongoing relationship with God, and only that relationship asks something of me that lasts beyond the moment I catch myself — service, amends, prayer, a life given away rather than just managed better. Ego doesn’t disappear when I leave a meeting. It comes home with me, goes to work with me, sits at the dinner table, enters my marriage. Positive Intelligence would tell me to keep flexing the muscle. The Steps tell me to keep walking with the Father, one day at a time, for the rest of my life.

Maybe that’s the real difference. Not a better technique. A relationship that doesn’t end.