Why is change so hard?

There are many fine details and complexities that contribute to each person’s unique experience in therapy, causing no two therapy sessions to look the same. However, a commonality amongst nearly all people seeking therapy is the desire for change. Almost every therapeutic process is centered around how to foster change. Therapy is complex and intricate, but the solutions to create change are often quite simple. If you have a drug addiction, stop using drugs. If you have restricted eating, eat. If you are depressed, move more. If you are anxious, slow down. If you have relational conflict, stop reacting emotionally, etc. It’s the process of change that is brutal, regardless of how great the benefit is. I am not immune to this construct. Having been trained to always ask “why” as a therapist, I sought to find the answer to “why is change so hard.” 

When Covid-19 hit my corner of the world I was in my last semester of graduate school for Clinical Mental Health Counseling, preparing to move to a different state and planning my wedding. Additionally, I was battling a knee injury. My mind and body have become accustomed to rigorous cardio as a means for releasing stress, time for reflection, and a dopamine boost. Running is a distraction from work and adds structure to my day. It is my main means of regulation. Having been a daily runner for over a decade, not being able to rely on running for my sense of sanity during an extra chaotic time was especially dysregulating. With races being canceled, classes going online, and a constant feeling of chaos around me, I longed for structure and familiarity. To put it simply, I wanted the changes to just stop. 

One thing particularly grounding to me about running is the endless distraction it provides to stressors in my life when trying to reach certain goals. In running there are always new milestones to reach whether it be faster paces or a longer distance. I yearned for something tangible to work towards. With getting faster or going longer not being feasible due to my injury, I decided to focus more on the fine details of exercise. My cadence (amount of steps taken per minute) is lower than the ideal and most efficient running form and is a potential cause of my injury. This seemed like a good place to start. I read up on it a bit and multiple sources told me “the best way to increase cadence is to run with a metronome,” meaning I  would run with an app that beeps every time I was supposed to take a step. I thought nah. A) running with a beep in my ear 170 times a minute annoys me so much, I want to throw my phone just thinking about it. B) Surely, I can increase my cadence without a metronome.  

The harsh reality of change

During this time I was working as a case manager at a residential treatment center for drug addiction. Many times, when asking the residents what their plan to maintain sobriety was they would say they would just stop using. They were sick of their old ways, ready for change, ready for better and willpower was all it would take. I would often challenge their mindset and question their naivety at how “easy” it would be, but here I was falling into the same trap. After all, how hard is it to just take more steps, a simple solution to change, right? Yeah, that didn’t work.  

Just like addictive patterns become engraved in a person, my running form is engraved in me; I couldn’t willpower my way into a higher cadence. I eventually gave in and paid 99 cents for an app with an annoying little beep, cuz you know, I was committed to becoming a better runner. At first, I had the beeping in the background with music on—that didn’t work. I just tuned out the beeping. Then I thought I could have the beeping without the music and my body would naturally fall in sync with it. Nope, that didn’t work. For this to work I literally had to stay focused on the beep the entire time I was running. I had to consciously think 84 times a minute is my right foot stepping in sync with the beat. The second and I mean the literal second my mind wandered (like it typically does when I am running) my cadence dropped. I was experiencing why change was so hard. On my tenth-ish attempt, I finally accepted there was only one way to increase my cadence. I would have to surrender to the beep. It would take over my runs. Half a mile into my run, I thought damn, this is some hard-core change I’m doing here (as soon as I thought that, my cadence dropped because I wasn’t thinking about the beep).  

The treatment program was set up in a way that constantly reminded the residents to not use drugs. There were several hours of group and individual therapy a day focused on changing their behavioral patterns. Residents endured daily drug tests and sanctions for inappropriate language or behavior indicative of their “old ways.” The facility required documentation and notification of where they were at, what they were doing, and when they would come back, sending the message: people are watching you, don’t mess up. I began to realize that my hour-long runs of intentional behavioral change (becoming more and more annoying by the second) were these residents every single waking moment. How exhausting. 

It was not uncommon for residents at the treatment center to start using shortly after graduation, despite how badly they claimed to want sobriety. Were they lying?  I want to become a better runner. I’ll tell you and mean it with all my heart: “I would do anything to become a better runner.” At the same time, I admittedly have said “screw it” and accepted a lower cadence, causing inefficient running, making me more injury prone, and preventing me from becoming a better runner. I want to become a better runner really badly, but the process of change simply sucks. It’s hard to stay so focused and alert and it makes running less fun, ruining my coping skill. It seems like it’s never going to get better and I’ll have to run with a beep in my ear for the rest of my running career—no thanks. I can’t blame the residents for wanting to get rid of their beep. 

It takes more than willpower to change

So often we hear that the reason for people staying stuck in their lives is that they lack willpower, determination, or motivation. It’s easy to scrutinize people for not taking seemingly simple steps to live more fulfilling lives. However, it takes more than willpower to change. Successful change requires attending to the beep 170 times a minute. Usually, the beep is not one behavior like taking a step. It’s every single move they make. For example, individuals in recovery from a drug addiction need to consider where they work, who they hang out with, what they watch on TV., what kind of books they read, what music they listen to, where they live, how they provide for their family, how they interact with others, what they are thinking about, how they are spending their free time, what they do to cope, etc. All of these things factor into recovery, and many of these things have become subconscious behavioral patterns and means of regulation to their daily lives, automatic responses so to speak. It doesn’t matter how bad they want it, there is no way to achieve it without consistent and perpetual practice….and agony.  

Whether in fitness, relationships, bad habits, or toxic traits, change is never easy. The journey of change for me, and so many others is a process along the lines of: 

Try it 

Hate it. 

Quit. 

Try again. 

Become extremely dysregulated. 

Quit. 

Try longer this time. 

Feel defeated because you still can’t get it right. 

Quit again. 

Try again. 

Repeat over and over until you either A) give up for good or B) no longer have to think about it and it becomes an automatic part of you. 

How many times do you have to repeat? The answer to that question remains unknown and varies from person and circumstance, making the change process all the more scary and gruesome. Many of the individuals at the treatment center were in their 3rd, 4th…9th, 10th round of treatment. Whether it be yourself, a loved one, or a client, remember to approach change with compassion and understanding of how painfully difficult it always is.  

The solution is simple, the process is treacherous.  

Remember those New Year’s resolutions you made over the holidays, the ones about changing bad habits?

How’s it going?

Getting in the habit of doing something differently can be incredibly hard, but it is possible. Here are 10 guiding principles to help make your changes successful.

1. Define what you want to do differently.

Is it quitting something? Beginning something? Be as detailed as you can. For example, you may wish to have a cleaner house. What, exactly, does a cleaner house mean? Is it keeping the counters clear and the dishes done? Does it mean mopping the floors every week? Every day? If you want to decrease the amount of alcohol you consume, what does that entail? Is it limiting yourself to two or fewer drinks a night? A week? A month? The more specific you can be the better. Clearly define your goal.

[fat_widget_right]

2. Specify why you do what you do.

If you find yourself watching too much Netflix, is it because you feel tired in the evenings? Do you use it as an emotional escape when you feel depressed? If you’re trying to quit smoking, do you light up because your friends do or automatically smoke when you get in the car? Knowing why you engage in behaviors is critical to knowing how to change them.

3. Understand why you don’t want to do it anymore.

Are your kids embarrassed to have their friends over because your house is a mess? Has your drinking become a problem because your spouse has noticed or because you have a DUI? Consider how changing your bad habit will affect your life for the better.

4. Make your plan.

Break the plan into small steps. For a cleaner home, this might mean starting with one activity at a time. The first week, you’ll be sure to make your bed. The next week, you might add vacuuming three times. For drinking less, it might mean getting rid of most or all of the alcohol in your home or ceasing to drink when you’re alone. Quitting “cold turkey” works for some but not all.

5. Be patient.

Think about change in terms of a journey—a long-term process that is sometimes more direct and quicker than at other times. You might have heard it takes only 21 days to form a positive or control a negative habit. That’s not quite accurate. According to a 2010 study, it can take as few as 18 and as many as 254 days to be successful. Value patience.

Don’t view setbacks as a reason to quit. See them as part of the process. Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back.

6. Anticipate setbacks.

Don’t view setbacks as a reason to quit. See them as part of the process. Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back. What might your setbacks be? Perhaps it’s holidays, after-work activities, or increased stress.

7. Don’t compare yourself to others.

Your brother may have stopped smoking in three days with no ill affects, but this does not mean it is possible (or healthy) for you. Each person has their own strengths, weaknesses, and ways of changing.

8. Consider what would make change easier.

For someone who wants to lose weight, not having junk food in the house may help. For someone trying to begin an exercise plan, it might help to make a verbal agreement with a friend to be accountable to each other. Another idea is to not frequent places where you engage in the behavior. Certain areas or people may be triggers.

9. Celebrate successes big and small.

Note and acknowledge changes you make along the way. Some people reward themselves at certain points. If you’ve been anticipating attending a special event or wanting to buy yourself something, this may be a good time to set an incentive.

10. Find support.

This might mean finding a therapist. It might be in the form of family, friends, or in-person or online support groups. A quick search of the web may yield online and local groups. Talk to friends and family about how it’s going and let them know if you need extra support.

Changes can be difficult but are by no means impossible. Comment below and let me know what has worked and not worked for you!

Reference:

Lally, P., van Jaarsveld, C. H., Potts, H. W., & Wardle, J. (2010). How are habits formed: Modelling habit formation in the real world. European Journal of Social Psychology, 40: 998-1009. doi:10.1002/ejsp.674

You’re feeling lousy? Good.

While it’s awful to be struggling, it’s also necessary. The pain is the signal you’ve been waiting for—that you’re motivated to change. No one ever woke up from a refreshing nap, looked at their lovely house and loving family, and said, “I really need to change my life in a difficult and lasting way.” It’s only when we’re suffering that we tend to dig in and do the hard work of choosing a new way to exist.

Whether the adjustment you want is small (to exercise a bit more) or large (leaving your relationship), whether it’s long-term (learning to love yourself) or temporary (finding the courage to ask for a raise), creating change means first figuring out why you haven’t done it in the past. Secondly, it means modifying your thoughts and your actions every day, maybe even every minute. This is difficult stuff. It takes determination and commitment.

[fat_widget_right]

Which is why most people don’t do it. Real change is rare. People often start projects and then abandon them, because starting is exciting but continuing takes constant attention. This is where pain unexpectedly becomes a positive force. When you’re miserable, the discomfort pushes you to keep going with your new life plan, and see it through, because the stress of changing feels better than the despair of never changing.

Distracting from Pain Increases the Pain

Without pain as an incentive, many of us push away the bad feelings we get from whatever behavior is causing us grief. Your partner is distant and critical? Drink more to forget about it. Your job is unfulfilling? Veg out each night with potato chips and Netflix. It’s easier to numb ourselves to the pain, so we try that, maybe for years on end.

By distracting all the pain away, however, we can’t ever be in the moment (we’re too busy chilling out with Reddit or diverted by Twitter) and so we end up missing life. The idea of feeling an uncomfortable feeling is so scary that we run away from it, worried the emotion will overwhelm or devastate us.

If you’re so cut off from what you feel that you can’t name it, you can convince yourself it’s either not important enough (“I couldn’t possibly still be upset about what happened when I was 12”) or that it isn’t fixable (“If I don’t even know for sure what it is, why bother thinking about it?”) or that it will overwhelm you (“If I open the floodgates, I won’t ever be able to stop being angry”).

But what if the pain isn’t devastating? What if it has something to tell us?

Step 1: Mindfulness

What you don’t realize in that moment is that knowledge is change—or, at the very least, the first step toward healing. Feeling the pain is also called being mindful or being in the moment.

The practice of mindfulness helps to identify and tolerate uncomfortable emotions. The work is to notice you’re having an emotion, acknowledge it is there, and not try to push it away but merely sit with it. It’s tougher than it sounds. I recommend taking a class, contacting a professional, or using online resources such as those at UCLA’s Mindful Awareness Research Center.

That little kid is still inside, yearning for comfort and approval and unconditional love. At this moment, you are the only person who can provide that.

Step 2: Acceptance of the Pain

Another step in mindfulness is to accept that you feel the pain. Acceptance is often confused with resignation. Resigning yourself to bad feelings means being stuck with them and in them, with no options or hope. Acceptance, instead, means letting go of the illusion of control.

Acceptance says, “I’m okay right here. Even when it hurts, I won’t be destroyed. And by giving my pain a chance to breathe, I will understand it better, give it words, and uncover parts of it that have been so deeply buried I didn’t even know they were there.”

Step 3: Integration

The process will be difficult. But it’s not until you know yourself fully and accept all the pieces of yourself—good and bad—that you can be fully formed. It’s a process therapists call integration, to join together all the different parts of yourself and stop rejecting the pieces you think aren’t good enough. The parts that hurt or you’re ashamed of.

Often, what we’re running away from when we distract is something we dislike about ourselves, a perceived fault, or an anxiety. By confronting the idea that even our laziness, our extra weight, our selfishness are all normal, tolerable elements of ourselves, we can finally find a way to like ourselves.

Step 4: Learning to Comfort Yourself

Learning to like ourselves can be achieved by practicing and envisioning being loving toward ourselves. In the past, someone, parents or peers, likely shamed you about actions you took or feelings you expressed. You were taught by people or society that to feel sad, or to express anger, or to fail at anything is bad. So anytime you didn’t measure up, you covered up. That little kid is still inside, yearning for comfort and approval and unconditional love. At this moment, you are the only person who can provide that.

The process is, again, to sit with the parts of yourself that are hurting. But now, as opposed to when you were just being mindful and accepting, you embrace those parts and comfort that younger self. It’s often called “inner child” work, and is best accomplished with the help of a therapist or a guide such as this one.

Really knowing your own story, all of it, allows you to start rewriting it. “I was hurt in the past, I ran away from the hurt by drinking too much, and now instead of running I can comfort myself and choose better ways to deal.” What better mantra for the year ahead?