Accepting the fact that I am truly powerless over much that I experience in life, and that my basic premise regarding that experience is a false one, is a humiliating realisation for a self-righteous, stubborn, and prideful soul. Setting aside the illusion that I am in control of my life, and that it is entirely manageable in all its aspects, is the first necessary step toward true maturity and something that is commonly described as happiness. To do so we must first be able to think clearly about ourselves, our place in the world, and the dynamic between these two things.
This is as revelatory and as painful a process as you can imagine. It requires the logical presumption that if our lives are (the world is) fundamentally unmanageable, then as its principle agent the most unmanageable thing in that world is me. Therefore we cannot be sure with any real degree of certainty that we are who we think we are, because whatever definition we do have is fundamentally compromised by the self-centered and insecure demands we place on it. Relieving ourselves from this crude and inaccurate caricature that we call our identity, if we are able to, is empowering in a unique way hitherto unavailable to us. It enables us to see clearly the role we have played in the course and characterisation of our own lives.