A few weeks ago I had a car accident. I won’t go into detail, because that’s not the point of this column. The point of this column is what happened afterward.

In the days following the accident, I found myself in emotional limbo: dazed and confused, and a little bit lost. I was like the little character in the Waze app that, when you send Waze to sleep, falls into a tiny rocking hammock and sways back and forth indefinitely, while looking off into some indefinable distance. One afternoon, I found myself staring out my office window, unable to work. It had been raining for four days straight. The woods were encased in a thick fog, and all that was visible were the dark trunks of the larger trees. This was exactly how my brain felt: like everything was fogged out, and only the hard lines of my life were visible: Cook meals. Eat. Walk dogs. Sleep. Repeat.

It’s been a strange time, but not one without positivity. After the accident, all kinds of people reached out to me over texts and via email and even through snail mail. Friends, friends of friends, and even people in the community, who I barely knew, wanted me to know their thoughts were with me. Every text/email/card brought me closer to fog’s receding edge, and for that I was incredibly grateful. I knew I’d eventually see the softer lines of my life reappear: ground and sky and woods. Joy and gratitude and pleasure.

During this whole process, I thought about how much people’s words of caring and reassurance meant to me. It made me think about whether I had lent care and reassurance to friends and acquaintances when I knew they needed it.

It was a kind of “reverse projection.” In case it’s been a while since you cracked open a psychology textbook, the basic idea behind projection is this awful truth: the traits and behaviors we most disdain in others are usually the very traits and behaviors we (often unknowingly) possess in spades. (Here’s looking at you, judgmentalism, rigidity, envy, and sporadic feelings of self-importance.) The first time you learn this, you are tempted to vehemently disagree with the concept. This doesn’t make it less true.

My concept of “reverse projection” goes like this: In paying attention to the traits and behaviors I admired in others (here’s looking at you, compassion, empathy, and kindheartedness), I discovered these are things I do not possess in spades, but want to.

There are all sorts of reasons people behave egregiously or admirably or simply go absent in the face of others’ needs. It has to do with how we were raised, what we were taught, what we saw, and what we came to believe is important. And while we can’t go back and retool our emotional education, we can practice new ways of being.

Case in point: a friend recently sent me a TED talk by Dan Harris, called, “The Benefits of Not Being a Jerk to Yourself.” Harris is an ex-ABC news anchor who famously had a panic attack on the air. In a subsequent quest for self-discovery and healing, he underwent a comprehensive assessment of his behaviors and traits. The results of the assessment were brutal. The report painted a picture of a man who was such a jerk to so many people that the reading of it made his wife cry. Intent on becoming less of a jerk, Harris underwent therapy, read a barrage of books, and, finally, enrolled in a nine-day silent meditation workshop.

This is what he learned: that being kind to oneself—by which he means putting an end to self-hate and self-flagellation—immediately improves our outlook. And when we improve our outlook, we become kinder to others. When we are kinder to others, it further improves our outlook, which makes us even kinder to others. You can see where he’s going with this: kindness is a ladder that builds on itself.

The point is, our brains and heart are not cast in bronze or concrete. We are behaviorally, emotionally, and intellectually flexible beings, whose greatest claim to fame is our ability to think about our thinking, and about our behavior. Sure, it sucks to see the rigidity in myself that drives me bonkers in other people. But it’s awesome to be able to see great traits in others I want to, and can, emulate.

I was fortunate to get an outpouring of kindness and compassion from friends and strangers after my accident. It reminded me of the importance of doing the same for others. Because, I see now, it isn’t by accident that the fog recedes, but by a generous amalgam of light and warmth.