Three Reasons Change is Hard

In my coaching work, I interact with many people who want to make changes in their lives.  This is probably not shocking news.  After all, it's human nature to want to evolve and grow--all of which requires change.  It is also true that changing something about our lives or our interactions with someone in our lives can be extremely difficult.  Here are some of the reasons why that is:

1. Making change takes conscious, consistent effort.  We are hardwired in a way that actually makes change more work for us.  As human beings, our brains crave patterns as a way of understanding.  Our brains understand scripts and establish actions and reactions as habits.  Once something is a habit, it takes more work for us to shift it.  Here's why: when an action or set of actions fall into the habit loop, our brain is essentially on autopilot as it completes the loop.  This saves our brain energy and reduces the number of choices it has to make in any given day to a manageable number--and it makes it harder to shift our actions and change our habits.

One way to overcome this challenge is to bring your conscious attention to the pattern--and to pay close attention.  This can often require patience with yourself as you observe and take notes on or journal about the loop you want to change before you actually change it.  What's the cue?  What's the reward?  Usually what we are trying to change is the routine--but without cracking into the other two, that can be especially challenging.  Then, you can get to work on using what you know about the cue and reward to tackle the routine.

2. I think it was FDR who said something like, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," and he hit the nail on the head with that one.  Change can be scary--and without even realizing we are acting out of fear, we will talk ourselves out of the very change we most want, and the actions that will help to bring it about.

Let's say, for example, that Susan doesn't like her job.  It is stifling and every day that she drives to work, she finds herself less and less enthusiastic about going.  In fact, she even starts to get mild physical symptoms at the very thought of going to work--a slight headache, a queasy stomach.  On a few different occasions she has convinced herself that the only solution is to start looking for another job--and then something happens between there and actually applying.  As she looks through ads, or works to capture her experience on her resume, she sees the holes between the list of preferred experience and her own.  She puts the resume away with half-finished job descriptions.  She never writes a cover letter for this job she worries she couldn't possibly get. 

Fear can stop us from even trying to make changes that would be good for us, and that is why we should fear it--because it can keep us stuck.  Fear stops forward movement, often because it aims to protect--which has it's place--but can also prevent us from living fully.  Someone besides FDR observed:  "A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."

The best strategy I know of here is letting yourself be afraid and doing something anyway.  This requires some self-awareness and some vigilance--and sometimes enlisting a close friend or family member to deliver tough love at just the right moment and call us out when we are unwittingly letting our fears stop us.  I think I'm going to write that quote about the ship on a card and post it where I will see it every day so I won't forget the sentiment.

3.  There is some tension between us as individuals and the communities of people we are part of.  We make the decision to change inside our heads and the world around us conspires to keep things the same, making it even harder to do differently.  This is really just another way of saying that reason #1 that it's hard to change applies to others as well as ourselves.

Let's say for example that you decide to interact differently with your mother.  You are sick of every conversation leading to you feeling defensive and ending in an argument.  You do some work to shift how you take in what your mother says.  You begin to shift the way you hear her and how you respond, but your mother is so used to the pattern that it seems like she is trying to start an argument at every turn. 

What to do with this challenge?  Remember that people respond to our actions much more than to what we say, so take it day by day.  The more committed we are to the new way of being or acting, the easier it will be to get other people on board with us--but accept at the outset that it will take a while--and that you will change before others change how they respond to or interact with you.  It can be helpful to know what you will say or do if the old pattern flares up.  This can give you an alternative route instead of falling into the old pattern.

What are some of the barriers you have experienced when making a change and how have you overcome them?

Looking for Pleasant Surprises

I never imagined I would become a hockey fan.  Of all the sports I have been exposed to, hockey was one of the few that just never captured my interest--mostly because I couldn't make sense of it.  Even when I had friends who played in college and I would attend their games to support them, I didn't get it--and I didn't care to put much energy into getting it.  These days, I find myself sacrificing sleep to watch the Bruins in the playoffs, talking with co-workers about last minute wins and griping about terrible calls.  It's surprising---even to me--so I was curious to examine how this happened.

The most obvious thing is that I found a reason to care about hockey.  My significant other really enjoys hockey.  It matters to him and seeing the Bruins play is important to him.  I started watching games with him, doing other things like paying bills or sorting mail or fixing the hem on a skirt, while he cheered and groaned.  Gradually, I understood a bit more of what was happening--he explained, I asked, it all started to come together.  It is also nice to enjoy (or be disappointed by) the game with him.  We get to share an experience when I actually watch and try to understand what's happening, otherwise, we are just two people in the same place--me sewing, him watching hockey.  Taking the former approach allows us to share our responses and to experience excitement or disappointment together--and the chance at having that connection certainly helped to motivate me to care more about hockey.

I have also realized that learning and appreciating something new has its own appeal--especially in this case where I had decided I would never like or understand hockey.  First, there is a sense of accomplishment and even a little pride in understanding something I never thought I would understand.  Second, there is a surprise in liking something I never thought I would enjoy.  It feels like I'm a different person is some ways, and knowing I can grow and change and surprise even myself is reassuring.  Life gets boring when it is too stagnant and even though that is comfortable, I would rather know that some facet of my life or some aspect of how I define myself (not a hockey lover in this case) can change.

Is there something you wish you had, or a connection with a person you wish was stronger, or an interest of your own that you wish was more present.  If so, do something that connects you to that--even if you tried it before and didn't like it.  Want some space in your life? Try meditation.  Have a good friend who loves sushi--go out to her favorite restaurant for dinner.  Have a friend who loves baseball? Watch a game together.  Pick up that novel you put down after 10 pages 2 years ago.  Try rock climbing--again.  Call your mother just to say hi.  Give yourself the permission to still hate whatever it was you just tried.  Give yourself the permission to change your mind and enjoy it.

It is a gift to be surprised by our own lives--and to get that gift, we have to be willing to try something--something new or something we turned away from before.  Not doing that is a sure way to stay who we were yesterday.  It's much more fun to be in the moment--that is where the surprises are--so try it.  Do something now that isn't informed by what used to be.  You might just be pleasantly surprised.

Spring Cleaning

Each spring of my childhood, my mother and grandmother would pick a Saturday in the early spring and do their spring cleaning.  They cleaned regularly but this Saturday was a time for the most extensive sort of clearing out and cleaning up.  They had my father and grandfather up on ladders, cleaning gutters, washing windows, taking shutters off to hose them down--and inside the house every curtain was coming down, every sheet and blanket was peeled off the beds and buckets of Lysol scented water made their way throughout the house for shelves and walls and floors to be scoured.  This cleaning was so extensive that it required some preparation and coordination--the date was chosen and we all knew to prepare for spring cleaning well in advance--and it took the full day--we started at 7 am and usually didn't finish until after dinner when the last curtains went back up and the beds were reassembled just in time to collapse into them. There was also something really refreshing and beautiful that spring cleaning gave us--everything looked and smelled newer, fresher--and the light in the house was different as the season changed outside.  There was something satisfying about the alignment between the world outside the house and inside of it.

Looking back, one thing I appreciate about those spring cleaning days was the fresh start, the reset.  Nothing really changed and still, it all felt different.  Sometimes we need just that--a reason to look at what we are used to seeing with a new set of eyes.  Spring cleaning always brought that shift in perspective.  Through the clean windows and freshly washed curtains, the light was brighter and the outside world was more vibrant.  The fresh scent of outside would come off the curtains for days after they had been dried on the clothesline.  It strikes me that sometimes life and our looking at it calls out for a reset.  It is possible to make that happen in our lives when we need it.  I know I was feeling sort of tired and as if my energy was dragging.  I decided to do a fruit cleanse--and put it on the calendar for after two big events I had been dreading, just to create a fresh start for myself.  If there is something you are feeling not quite happy about, maybe it's time for a spring cleaning of sorts.  Where are you stuck and what would cause a shift? Maybe you have found yourself being snappy with your loved ones.  Take a day off, an evening off, or if you can swing it, a weekend away.  Maybe you are feeling tired.  Cut out TV and be in bed by 9 with a good book for a week.  Perhaps you are wanting to restart your exercise routine.  Take a walk after work or first thing in the morning.  Maybe your schedule feels too busy.  Schedule 2 or 3 hours of open space for yourself once a week for a month.  What the reset looks like depends on what you want to shift, but take a lesson from my grandmother--put it on the calendar and then commit to it with all your energy. Get others involved in your project.  And then appreciate what's different, knowing you have the option to create that shift any time you choose.

Expand or Contract?

Like many other Bostonians, I have found my attention repeatedly drawn to the bombing at the finish line of the Marathon on Monday.  First, I was glued to the news, watching the surreal images replay in front of me, wondering what I could learn about what happened and quickly realizing that even the newscasters knew very little.  Simultaneously, I was on facebook and my phone, making sure those near and dear to me were ok.  In my head several busy thoughts came and went including who would do this and why, how and when will this person be caught, how many people have been hurt and how badly, and how would this change the Marathon.

Wednesday morning, I got on the T for the first time since the bombs went off.  As I made my way downtown, to get a haircut only blocks from the site of the bombings, I noticed what looked like National Guardsmen on the T platforms.  I got off the T at Arlington, because the Copley stop remains closed.  There I walked past 2 more military looking officers, a state police officer and a Boston police officer.  I got above ground only to see more police directing traffic and pedestrians.  I crossed Boylston, walking by at least 20 news vans and lots of lights and cameras to get to Newbury.  Famed for its ritzy shopping, even this street was quiet for a beautiful day, with many stores closed and far fewer people than is typical.  I passed closed side streets, keeping people away from the actual site of the bombings.  I passed a TV cameraman filming two police officers investigating a suspicious bag.  I was jarred by the whole experience as I arrived at the salon for a haircut.  I was or wasn't less safe than I had been 2 days earlier, but the world seemed less safe than it had been.  I questioned my choice to pursue business as usual at this moment.

I had a lot of time to think while I was sitting there at the salon and my mind went back to my morning yoga practice.  The teacher said something that had hit home--our desired state of being is expansion.  I thought of many examples, all of which seemed to prove this true.  I am always looking to learn something new and integrate it into my yoga practice, my teaching practice or my leadership work.  I love learning about new ideas and seeing how they connect with what I already know.  Going somewhere new or meeting someone new energizes me and sheds new light on my default perspectives and attitudes.  Through my coaching work, I see clients who seek expansion in their family lives, their personal relationships, their work, their understanding of themselves.  I could go on and on, but suffice to say that I quickly compiled significant evidence to support this idea--it is human nature to seek expansion, what's bigger, what's next. 

In the wake of the bombings at the Boston Marathon on Monday, I have found myself instinctively wanting to contract.  I have wanted to stay home, to be safe.  I have found my thoughts drawn to those closest to me.  I have wanted them to stay home, to be safe.  I have found myself worrying and getting lost inside scary what-ifs in my brain.  Once downtown, I found myself jarred by the reminders of the bombing.  All these things close my world down, make it smaller.  Fear has made me want to withdraw, to turn in.

So, the question is what to do? As my yoga teacher pointed out, our work is to create the space to expand into.  Without the space, the desire is not enough.  How do we get back to the natural state of things--our desire to expand, our ability to draw energy and joy from expanding--even in the face of something nasty?


I have been touched by the stories I have heard--a woman given a finisher's medal by a stranger or a mom and her two kids cared for at a medical tent while they waited for their husband/dad to make his way to them.  A friend described how she was walking in the rain the day after the Marathon as part of a recovery plan from foot surgery and a car pulled over and the driver asked if she was ok or needed a ride anywhere.  Downtown yesterday, I saw an impromptu memorial at the barricades that block Clarendon street--flowers and signs left to remember the victims, to issue a call for peace, to express solidarity with Boston.  And then there are the many organized events popping up to walk or run the last mile or the last 5 miles or even to share people's best Marathon memories.

How do we get back to expansion even when there is fear?  The answer is to expand anyway, through the fear.  All of these stories are about people reaching out instead of closing down.  Heck, even running a Marathon is a great example of expansion!  These stories all demonstrate the best of human nature, the best of making space, the best of being bigger instead of smaller.

What I refuse to let these bombings take from me is the belief that human beings are basically good.  I refuse to let these bombings separate me from my community with a fear of being part of public celebrations--like the Marathon.  Because of Monday's events that is a little scary, but more scary is living a life or living in a world where everything is contracted.  How will you fight the urge to contract when you feel it?  What can you do to create the space to expand?  Think about these things--but more importantly go do them.  Expand yourself into action today.  Getting bigger when it's a challenge will allow you to expand even more down the line, creating the space to grow into.

Wanting: An Evolutionary Force

I've been feeling restless lately--unsettled.  And that has shown up in several ways--the parts of my job that I don't love the most are feeling more significant than they really are, I can't finalize a plan about where and when to take my summer vacation, I sometimes can't even sit still and read one thing without my brain jumping around to a long list of to-do's or finding myself physically starting to get up without even knowing where I am going.  Wanting makes me restless--sometimes even before I know what I want--or even that I want something.  There is a deep, instinctive part of us that wants things--our inner "wanter"--and there are reasons we should always be listening for what that part of us is saying--even if the message is a little garbled at times..

That wanter voice will tell us what we have outgrown in our lives and point us toward what we want more of.  The restlessness is sometimes around a specific thing--such as a job or a relationship--or, taken together, several areas where we are restless tell us something we are after.  In my case, I want more freedom than I have right now--and so anything that feels like it restricts that is making me restless--scheduling my vacation feels like limiting the freedom there, the little things in my job make me feel more tied down at work, even sitting still feels like I am being restrained.  Those things are not always true.  There are days, weeks even, where I love sitting down, staying still and reading or where having a really busy and full schedule feels productive.  Right now, however, my body and mind rebel.  Maybe that sounds like a terrible feeling--and I'll admit, it has been frustrating at times, but I'm actually thankful for the restlessness.  It tells me where to set my sights--even when I am not sure what the path there will look like.

The wanter in us is always looking forward, and in that way, it moves us forward.  Speaking concretely, let's say you have an old friend and you have been growing in opposite directions for a while.  You don't enjoy spending time with this person as much as you used to and you have far fewer common interests than you once did.  Your wanter might get restless about this relationships before you are consciously aware that it needs to change. You might find yourself with many reasons not to pick up this person's calls.  You might find yourself avoiding places you might run into her. You might find yourself filling your days with plans without this person--and all before you could ever articulate out loud that you don't want to sustain that friendship as it has been.  Wanting something pulls us forward, toward evolution and change--things we might resist if we were asked to pursue them.  Wanting starts us moving, even when we aren't sure what we are moving toward.  Wanting makes staying still more uncomfortable than going forward.

What's my point?  Cultivate some restlessness.  Look for it, blow a little air on it and see what flares up.  Sure, sometimes we want something totally obvious--those new shoes, a piece of chocolate cake, to go outside on a sunny day--and sometimes it's more subtle than that--a feeling that evolves like a desire for more freedom.  Don't fall into the trap of stamping out those uneasy, restless feelings just because they are complex enough to be slightly fuzzy.  Check them out, explore them.  See what they can tell you--and if you can't make it out yet, keep listening.  Be patient as the picture clears and the image comes into focus.  And don't wait until you have all the how's and why's figured out to move in that direction.

Making and Keeping Commitments

6:10, Saturday morning.  The alarm went off one snooze ago and I was tempted to just turn it off and roll over.  It was hard to get up and out to the yoga class I had made a mental plan to attend.  Still, I managed to do it and felt better by two and a half hours later. What made the difference though between sleeping in and getting up I wondered?

I read something recently in a book called The Tools by Phil Stutz and Barry Michels about commitment that  seems closely related to this question.  The authors write: "The biggest difference between those who succeed and those who fail at any endeavor is their level of commitment.  Most people would like to be committed.  But in practice, commitment requires an endless series of small painful actions."

This got me thinking about what I was really committed to and how I knew.  Maybe you have made a commitment to something--or maybe you want to--or maybe you thought you had but following through is proving a real challenge.  Here's where I started to look to understand my commitments.

Do you know why this matters? The answer here needs to be big--and personally meaningful.  Something like, "exercise" isn't big enough.  It should be something like "I want to be healthier" or maybe even, "I want to feel better about myself."  It's important to really care about your why. Sometimes I get hung up here and pick something I think I should care about, or that other people care about for me.  This is a sure way to end up with an obligation rather than a commitment--and I tend to find more guilt than inspiration on that road.

Let's look at that early yoga class--and the moment when push came to snooze.  Getting up was a small, painful action.  Was I committed to the yoga class though?  I actually dragged myself out of bed for the feeling I get from yoga--the physical exercise of it and also the mental peace it brings me.  Yoga is simply a tool to achieve that end, but my commitment is to more internal balance and less stress.  Yoga class, or getting there, is sometimes a small, painful action. To keep my commitment, I need a good enough reason to choose that pain or when the going gets tough...you know the rest.

There is a critical importance to knowing the why of any commitment--and there is a necessity for actions that support it. Do you have action steps and habits to help you do the big thing you want to do? In my example, the big thing I want is more balance, maybe I should even call it inner peace.  Going to yoga regularly is the action I take to help me achieve that.  It's a habit for me now to pack my yoga bag, roll up my mat and take them to work.  That makes going to yoga regularly a lot easier.  That makes feeling balanced a lot more possible.

Without actions or habits to hold onto in the day to day reality of my life, a big desire rarely translates into an actual commitment.  My tool didn't have to be yoga.  It could have been meditation, or it could have been kickboxing.  What mattered was that I found something that worked for me.  Taking actions or developing habits that support your desire is where the rubber meets the road.  When there's something you want, it's worth figuring out specific things you will do to get it and making those actions as much of a pattern as possible so they stick.

This practice of incorporating actions and habits, however, calls for patience.  Sometimes I forget that instilling new habits takes time--even when the why is really meaningful. (I've heard statistics ranging from 30-50 days as the time frame it take to change a habit.)  I tend to want the change to happen in the time it takes for me to make the mental commitment--and if it doesn't, I can feel discouraged.  If I try to change too much at once, I can get overwhelmed and if I try to change too little, it seems to have no impact and I lose my motivation.  It's a fine balance--picking things I can do and taking on enough to see the progress.

The other kind of patience it's important to maintain is patience with yourself.  I usually expect myself to be able to carry off a commitment without faltering--and then when I mess up or don't follow through perfectly, I am disappointed and consider giving up.  In moments like that, I need to remind myself that the small, painful action here is picking myself up and trying again.  My patience needs several layers--and when I want to follow through on a commitment and still am not, this is often where I find the breakdown.

It's important to commit wisely--for I am coming to realize that commitments don't start hard and get easy.  A real commitment--staying married, building a secure financial future, doing what you love with your time--always includes a challenge.  Master one challenging aspect and there's another behind it.  Keeping those commitments despite the challenges requires strategies we can rely on--over and over--and it requires the right motivation and mindset to stick with it.

Navigating the Obstacles of Daily Life

As I drove to work earlier this week, it was snowing--and as the pace of the precipitation was picking up, traffic was slowing down.  I was at least two-thirds of the way to work when I ended up behind a large, slow Frito-Lay box truck.  I was anxious to get to work as the snow had already added time to my commute.  The truck was slowly making his way through the last stretch of a busy street before I could turn off and get to work--and I felt trapped.  I started to get frustrated.  I couldn't see what could possibly be causing him to go so slowly for so long...and I just wanted to get where I was going.  As I sat behind the truck for what felt like too long, I started to realize there had to be a red light up ahead.  Whatever originally caused the truck to slow down had led us to a legitimate need to wait.  While I sat there, recovering a little patience, a Subaru wagon drove casually up the right where parked cars would normally be and turned down a side street.  Then the truck started to move and I realized that giving the driver a bit of space might enable me to see much more of what was happening.  I started to back off even more.  Several pauses in my journey later, I took a deep breath, exhaled a big sigh, looked at the clock and realized I was still going to get to work on time.

Imagine this whole story as a metaphor.  There is something you want--in my case to get to work--and so you are headed toward it--with a specific path in mind and a specific timeline of how long it should take to get there--and maybe some expectations about what the whole journey will look like.  Something gets in your way--that Frito-Lay truck.  This obstacle slows you down, or prevents you from seeing your path, or following your path, and causes you delays.  You too might get frustrated.  What's your next move?

A. Be the Subaru wagon--get around the obstacle by taking a different path.  This seems like common sense--but I was on my path that morning and I lost sight of my alternatives.  I could have gone around the truck too.  There are at least three ways to wind through that final neighborhood and get to work.  Two things got in my way here: routine and expectations. I have a route I generally take to work.  That's my routine.  The truck interfered with my routine but I didn't consider changing my routine.  I wanted my commute to go as I expected it, as I planned it. Had I been a bit more flexible about either my drive taking longer or taking a different path, I might have saved myself some frustration.

B. Back off and take a bigger view.  As I backed off and quit tailgating that truck, I could see more and understand more.  I could see that light turn yellow then red.  I could see the crossing guard stop the truck for pedestrians to pass.  With the extra space, I had a better understanding of what was going on.  Every moment is a complex set of interconnected dynamics and sometimes, it's a little space and perspective that we need to really understand a situation and what's in our way.  This space and understanding then help us choose a good response.

C. Relax with what is--and I mean this in a "put it all in perspective" sort of way, not a "say everything is fine while you are seething inside and steam is coming out of your ears" sort of way.  This is actually about accepting the interplay of your plans and reality.  When a difference between these two occurs and I can't accept it, I do things like tailgate and admonish other drivers from inside my car, trying to control the situation or at least getting sucked into it.  When I actually relax, I see that often, there's not really a problem--for example that I wasn't even late to work.

It's inevitable that things will sometimes get in the way of the path you mentally lay out--or in my case, physically follow.  What's not inevitable is getting irritated by or about this. What's not inevitable is being stuck or trapped because of this.  Those are choices--just like going around or backing off or accepting what is.