I Revisited Alfred Adler Through a Japanese Book—and Realized I Was Still Making the Same Mistakes

Hi, this is Hideic.

Let me start with a simple question.

Are you happy?

Not “successful.”

Not “productive.”

Not “improving.”

Happy.

Because even if we understand the basics of a good life—sleep, exercise, meaningful work, good habits—there is one thing that can still destroy our peace surprisingly fast.

Other people.

A coworker who does something that makes no sense.

A family member who ignores what you asked.

A child who does the exact thing you just said not to do.

Someone who disappoints you.

Someone who misunderstands you.

And suddenly, all your beautiful philosophy disappears.

“WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?”

Very enlightened.

Very calm.

Very Adlerian.

Obviously.

That is why I picked up a Japanese book called Alfred Adler: 100 Words That Can Revolutionize Your Life by Hiroshi Ogura.

As far as I know, this particular book is not widely available in English.

But Alfred Adler certainly is.

And the ideas inside this book felt far too universal to stay inside Japanese bookstores.

I Had Already Read Adler. Apparently, That Was Not Enough.

I had already read The Courage to Be Disliked, one of the best-known modern introductions to Adlerian psychology.

So technically, I knew the ideas.

Human problems are deeply tied to relationships.

The past does not have to control the future.

We can choose how we respond.

Respect matters more than domination.

Excellent.

Learned.

Understood.

Next.

Except…

real life happened.

And I still sometimes caught myself thinking:

“Why did this happen to me?”

“This is because of that person.”

“If only they had acted differently…”

Apparently, understanding an idea once does not mean your brain installs it permanently.

Annoying.

So I wanted something I could return to quickly.

A book I could open when my mind was drifting back into old patterns.

And this one worked surprisingly well.

1. Stop Asking Who Is to Blame. Ask What You Will Do Next.

One idea hit me immediately.

When something difficult happens, you can spend enormous energy asking:

“Why me?”

“Whose fault is this?”

“What should have happened?”

The problem is that the past does not negotiate.

It is extremely stubborn.

You can replay yesterday 500 times.

The scene remains unchanged.

But the meaning you give it can change.

That was the Adlerian reminder I needed.

A setback can become:

“This proves my life is unfair.”

Or:

“Interesting. What can I learn from this?”

Same event.

Different direction.

This does not mean pretending painful things are wonderful.

It means refusing to let the worst interpretation become the only interpretation.

So lately I have been trying to ask myself:

“What can I do from here?”

Much more useful.

Also much harder.

2. Self-Acceptance Is Not the Same as Giving Up

This one may have hit me even harder.

I like improvement.

A lot.

English.

Books.

Career.

Health.

Writing.

Habits.

I have a suspicious amount of enthusiasm for becoming slightly better than yesterday.

Which sounds healthy.

Until it quietly turns into:

“The current version of me is not good enough.”

That is a dangerous shift.

There are plenty of things I still need to improve.

My English?

Still full of mistakes.

My book reviews?

Probably more emotional than academic.

My cooking?

Somewhere, a professional chef may be shaking his head.

My personality?

Under construction.

But Adlerian self-acceptance reminded me of something important:

Accepting yourself as you are does not mean deciding to stay that way forever.

Those are completely different things.

You can say:

“This is who I am today.”

And also:

“I would like to grow.”

Without hating the person standing at the starting line.

That was liberating.

I do not need to become perfect before I am allowed to respect myself.

Honestly, that sounds obvious when written down.

But many of us live as if the opposite were true.

3. Praise and Punishment May Not Be as Innocent as They Look

This is one of Adlerian psychology’s more uncomfortable ideas.

We often think there are two ways to guide people:

Punish bad behavior.

Praise good behavior.

Simple.

But Adlerian thought questions both.

Why?

Because both can create a vertical relationship.

The person with authority becomes the judge.

“You are good.”

“You are bad.”

“You passed.”

“You failed.”

That can make people dependent on evaluation instead of developing their own judgment.

This challenged me.

Especially as a parent.

If a child does something well, instead of only saying:

“Good job!”

I can say:

“Thank you. That really helped me.”

That is different.

It is not a score.

It is a human response.

If a child does something harmful, instead of exploding:

“NO! BAD!”

I can explain what happened, why it matters, and what the consequence is.

Respect does not mean having no boundaries.

It means treating the other person as a human being, not a project.

The same thing applies at work.

A junior colleague is not someone I am “manufacturing.”

A child is not a machine I am programming.

People grow better when they are respected enough to think.

That idea stayed with me.

The Most Obvious Truths Are the Easiest to Forget

That may be why I liked this book so much.

None of these ideas are flashy.

Do not obsess over blame.

Accept yourself.

Respect other people.

Think about what you can do now.

You read that and think:

“Yes, obviously.”

Then someone irritates you tomorrow morning and suddenly your philosophy degree disappears.

That is the problem.

The simplest ideas are often the hardest to practice exactly when we need them most.

So I stopped thinking of this book as something to “finish.”

I started thinking of it as a toolbox.

Feeling stuck?

Open it.

Blaming someone?

Open it.

Hating yourself for being imperfect?

Open it.

Trying to control another person?

Definitely open it.

You do not need all 100 ideas at once.

You need the right one at the right moment.

Maybe Happiness Requires Less Control Than We Think

The more Adler I read, the more I notice a recurring pattern.

A lot of suffering comes from trying to control things that are not really ours.

Other people’s reactions.

Other people’s choices.

The past.

Approval.

Whether everyone likes us.

And meanwhile, the part we actually control gets neglected:

What will I do next?

That question feels small.

But maybe it is one of the most powerful questions we have.

I cannot rewrite yesterday.

I cannot make everyone behave the way I want.

I cannot become a perfect person.

But I can choose what kind of person I want to be in the next moment.

That feels much lighter.

Why I Wanted to Share This Outside Japan

This particular book may be Japanese.

But the problems are not.

Blame.

Insecurity.

Parenting.

Workplace tension.

Wanting approval.

Trying to control people.

Feeling like you are not enough.

Those are not Japanese problems.

They are human problems.

And Adler’s ideas still feel remarkably modern because they ask us to move away from domination, victimhood, and endless self-judgment.

Toward responsibility.

Respect.

Courage.

Connection.

And maybe a little more peace.

I am still not perfect at any of this.

Tomorrow, I may get irritated again.

I may blame someone.

I may forget everything I just wrote.

Human beings are inconvenient like that.

But now I have a book I can return to and say:

“Ah. Right. This again.”

And maybe that is enough.

Not perfection.

Just a better direction.

Nin-nin.