Psychology says only people with rare emotional intelligence can honestly answer these 7 questions about themselves — most adults get fewer than 3 right

Ever notice how some people can walk into a room and instantly read the emotional temperature, while others seem completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air?

I used to think I was in the first group. After all, I'd spent years analyzing market trends and predicting financial outcomes. Reading people couldn't be that different from reading spreadsheets, right? Wrong. At 36, I found myself in a therapist's office, completely burned out and realizing I'd been emotionally illiterate my entire adult life.

That wake-up call led me down a rabbit hole of research into emotional intelligence. What I discovered shocked me: most of us think we know ourselves pretty well, but when it comes to honest self-reflection, we're barely scratching the surface.

Psychology research suggests that true emotional intelligence requires a level of self-awareness that's increasingly rare in our distraction-filled world. The questions below aren't your typical "what's your biggest weakness" softball queries. They're the kind that make you squirm a little, the ones that reveal whether you're truly in touch with your emotional landscape or just going through the motions.

Ready to find out where you stand?

1. When was the last time you felt genuinely envious, and what did that tell you about your unmet needs?

Here's the thing about envy: we all feel it, but most of us won't admit it. We've been taught it's an ugly emotion, something to be ashamed of. But according to research from Psychology Today, envy is actually one of our most informative emotions.

When I see a friend's Instagram post about their morning yoga routine and feel that familiar twist in my stomach, it's not really about them. It's my psyche waving a red flag, saying "Hey, remember when you used to prioritize your health?"

People with high emotional intelligence don't just feel envy and move on. They dig deeper. What does that envy represent? A desire for more recognition? Financial security? Creative freedom? The answer reveals what you're truly craving but haven't acknowledged.

If you can't remember the last time you felt envious, or if your immediate response is "I don't get jealous," you might be disconnecting from your emotions rather than processing them.

2. Can you describe a time when you were completely wrong about someone, and what assumptions led you there?

This question makes most people uncomfortable because it forces us to confront our biases. We all like to think we're good judges of character, but emotionally intelligent people recognize how often our initial impressions are colored by our own baggage.

I once worked with someone I immediately labeled as arrogant. They spoke confidently in meetings, rarely asked for help, and seemed to have an answer for everything. For months, I avoided collaborating with them. Then, during a particularly stressful project, I saw them break down. Turns out, their confidence was armor, protecting deep insecurity about being the youngest person on the team.

My assumption? Confidence equals arrogance. The reality? I was projecting my own discomfort with assertive communication onto them.

If you struggle to think of a time you misjudged someone, you're either remarkably perceptive (unlikely) or you're not examining your interpersonal dynamics closely enough.

3. What emotion do you find most difficult to tolerate in yourself, and how do you typically avoid it?

For years, I couldn't handle feeling incompetent. The moment I didn't understand something immediately, I'd either pretend I did or pivot the conversation. My intellect became my shield against the unbearable feeling of not knowing.

It wasn't until I started filling journals (47 notebooks and counting) that I recognized this pattern. Every time I felt that creeping sensation of inadequacy, I'd launch into analysis mode, intellectualizing rather than feeling.

The American Psychological Association notes that emotional avoidance is one of the primary factors in anxiety and depression. Yet most of us have become masters at it without even realizing.

Maybe you can't sit with sadness, so you stay busy. Perhaps anger feels too dangerous, so you smile through frustration. Or vulnerability feels like weakness, so you armor up with humor or cynicism.

Emotionally intelligent people don't just recognize their difficult emotions; they understand their avoidance tactics.

4. If your closest friends had to describe your biggest blind spot, what would they say?

This question separates those with genuine self-awareness from those who think they have it. Can you actually see yourself from the outside, or are you too caught up in your own narrative?

When I finally asked this question to my inner circle, the consensus was clear: I had an achievement addiction. While I saw myself as motivated and goal-oriented, they saw someone who couldn't celebrate a win without immediately moving the goalposts. External validation was never enough because I'd already moved on to the next mountain to climb.

The catch? If you immediately know what your friends would say, that's great. But if you're guessing or if your answer is something relatively harmless like "I work too hard," you might not be as self-aware as you think.

5. What story about your childhood do you still use to explain your adult behavior?

We all have origin stories we tell ourselves. "I'm bad at relationships because my parents divorced." "I can't trust people because I was bullied." These narratives might have truth to them, but emotionally intelligent people recognize when they've become crutches.

For the longest time, I blamed my need for control on growing up in an unpredictable household. It was a convenient explanation that absolved me from doing the hard work of changing. But here's what therapy taught me: while our past shapes us, using it as a permanent excuse keeps us stuck.

Research published by the National Institutes of Health shows that our ability to reframe our personal narratives directly impacts our psychological well-being. The question isn't whether your childhood affected you (it did), but whether you're still letting it drive the bus.

6. When do you feel most like an imposter, and what fear does that reveal?

Imposter syndrome gets a lot of airtime these days, but this question goes deeper than just feeling like a fraud. It's about understanding what specific situations trigger that feeling and what it reveals about your core fears.

For me, it hits hardest when I'm writing about psychological insights. The financial analyst in me whispers, "You don't have a psychology degree. Who are you to give advice?" But dig deeper, and it's really about my fear of being seen as illegitimate, of having my newfound purpose questioned.

People with high emotional intelligence don't just acknowledge imposter syndrome; they can trace it back to its roots. Is it fear of failure? Fear of success? Fear of being truly seen?

7. What compliment do you consistently deflect, and what does accepting it threaten?

Pay attention the next time someone compliments you. Do you immediately downplay it? Counter with self-deprecation? Redirect the praise elsewhere?

I used to deflect every compliment about my writing. "Oh, I just ramble and hope it makes sense," I'd say. But through journaling, I realized that accepting praise for my writing meant accepting that this career change was real, that I'd actually left my safe corporate job for something uncertain. Accepting compliments meant I couldn't go back to hiding behind spreadsheets.

What we can't accept often points to what we're not ready to own about ourselves. Maybe accepting that you're attractive threatens your identity as the smart one. Perhaps acknowledging your leadership skills means you can't play small anymore.

The uncomfortable truth

If you answered all seven questions with brutal honesty, congratulations. You're in rare company. Most people can't get through three without hitting a wall of resistance or self-deception.

The thing about emotional intelligence is that it's not fixed. Unlike IQ, which remains relatively stable, EQ can be developed. But it requires something most of us avoid: sitting with discomfort, examining our patterns, and admitting we don't have ourselves figured out nearly as much as we'd like to believe.

The path to emotional intelligence isn't through more self-help books or personality tests. It's through the messy, uncomfortable work of honest self-examination. It's through asking hard questions and not settling for surface answers.

Start with one question. Sit with it. journal about it. Talk to a therapist about it. Don't rush to the next one until you've really excavated your truth.

Because here's what I've learned: the people who think they've got it all figured out usually haven't even started looking. But those who admit they're still learning? They're the ones developing the kind of emotional intelligence that actually transforms lives.