When Signals Outweigh Substance: The Trap of Identity Debt

Who are we, really?

We live in a world where it’s easier than ever to signal who we are — through what we say, post, wear, or share. But if those signals don’t match our actions, we slip into something I call identity debt.

Like financial debt, identity debt piles up when we borrow against an image we haven’t earned. And just like money debt, it eventually comes due. Fail to pay it back, and you don’t lose your house — you lose your reputation, your confidence, even your sense of self. That’s how you end up in an identity crisis: quarter-life, midlife, or otherwise.

The challenge today is scale. There are more ways than ever to build an image without the substance behind it — more ways to go into identity debt.

Social media is the most obvious culprit, but it’s just the tip of the iceberg. We’ve built entire systems that reward posturing and signaling over real action. A few examples:

• Products as props. From Etsy finds to custom sneakers, nearly anything can be personalized to signal who we are.

• Edited selves. Technology lets us alter photos and appearances, presenting healthier, wealthier, smarter versions of ourselves.

• Broadcasted preferences. Spotify playlists, Goodreads ratings, Yelp reviews — every choice is a broadcast of identity.

• Endless content. We curate movies, news, and podcasts that give us things to talk about without requiring us to do anything.

• Monetized identity. With LLCs, platforms, and digital marketing, anyone can brand themselves as a coach, consultant, or influencer — whether or not there’s real expertise underneath.

All told, it’s never been easier to construct an identity without doing anything. The hype machine doesn’t just exist — it rewards us for feeding it.

We now have an endless credit line for identity debt. Talking and signaling can easily overshadow the slower work of real action — so much so that even a normal, hardworking life can feel drowned out by hype.

I know because I do it too. I post books on Goodreads, scroll Facebook, even use AI to polish resumes or draft marketing plans for my own projects. The signals flow almost automatically.

The strange thing is the solution is simple. Easy to name, hard to live out.

I’ve wrestled with this in my own life, and part of how I worked through it was by writing a book about how we can intentionally build our own character. And if I’ve learned anything, living this out is very possible, but it takes work.

To stay out of identity debt, we have to:

• Be real in how we present ourselves — so our signals reflect the truth, not a distortion.

• Envision the life we want, then live it — instead of hyping it, spinning it, or posturing about it.

• Step out of artificial spaces. Choose genuine human connection instead.

• Be honest with ourselves. Do the hard work of character — becoming the truest, strongest version of who we want to be.

All of this is easier said than done. And that’s exactly the point: reality is harder than hype — but it’s also where meaning lives.

Talk less. Do more. Pay down your identity debt before it bankrupts you.

Expanding Identity: Lessons from ‘Master of Change’

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”

This age-old adage, typically associated with financial investments, resonates deeply with me. It goes beyond diversifying assets to mitigate risk; it serves as a powerful metaphor for spreading our emotional and psychological investments across various aspects of life. This approach to diversifying how we define and perceive our identities can safeguard us against life's unpredictability.

After reading Brad Stulberg's Master of Change, the concept of not putting all your eggs in one basket took on a new, personal dimension. Stulberg explores rugged flexibility, a resilience against life's changes. His application of this proverb to the realm of identity struck me the most. He argues that by diversifying the sources of our self-worth, we can develop psychological resilience. This perspective, introduced by Stulberg, offered a fresh lens to view my own multifaceted identity.

Eager to put this concept into practice, I embarked on a personal journey of reflection. I often get flustered when life's balance tilts, feeling overwhelmed when things don't go smoothly. Recognizing this pattern, I saw the value in proactively applying Stulberg's idea. I aimed to equip myself better for those inevitable challenging times. Could redefining my identity in broader terms help me stay centered? This introspection aimed to mute my inner critic's harsh criticisms, labeling me an 'underachieving loser' (my inner critic's words, not mine), before they surfaced during the next downturn.

Here's what I discovered, a surprisingly revealing and affirming list. It was a profoundly good use of 30 minutes, one that I heartily recommend. Below is a snapshot of my notebook, showcasing these 101 facets of my identity. Entries like 'I am a pancake chef' and 'I am a coreographer' represent unique strands in my identity's complex tapestry, extending beyond just my professional life and familial roles. This visual representation of my diverse self-identity serves as a personal reminder of my multifaceted nature and as a direct invitation to you, the reader, to embark on a similar journey of self-discovery. It's a revealing and enriching experience.

Looking back on this exercise, I had one more takeaway that I’ve been chewing on.

I’m a pretty regular guy. I’m not that much more interesting or worldly than anyone else. And I was able to look inward and define my identity in 101 ways without too much trouble. If I’m not that different than the next guy, that means everyone is this multi-dimensional. Everyone has more to them than meets the eye. Everyone has a sophisticated, interesting, and unique inner world.

Which makes me think of how reducing so many institutions can be.

Reflecting on my career, I realize that most companies I've worked for have only acknowledged a fraction of my dimensions. In public politics, individuals often get pigeonholed into categories represented by organized interest groups, overshadowing their identity complexity. And I’ll admit it, when I see people in public I have a hard time remembering that there’s more to someone than some of the obvious visible identifiers - like the sports team on their hat, their fashion sense, or their likely age. These reflections opened my eyes to the frequency with which we're condensed to just a sliver of who we truly are, whether in professional settings or broader societal contexts.

The exercise sparked a pivotal change in my thinking: I now want to proactively assume the complexity and nuance in every person. I now know, in very tactical terms, how to look beyond surface impressions and appreciate that everyone has a complex identity. By choosing not to unintentionally oversimplify others, I seek to creating a space where the person in front of me can bring their full self to the world.

Imagine how different the world might be if everyone contributed the totality of who they were. It’d be something.

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My new book, Character by Choice: Letters on Goodness, Courage, and Becoming Better on Purpose, is now out in pre-launch! I’m so excited to share it and proud of how it turned out. If you liked this post, you might find it a good read. You can learn more about the book here.