I can't because...
The Château de Foix: not even very welcoming to friends. (Image by jacqueline macou)
It’s a phrase I was used to hearing from my siblings, my classmates, and from myself as a child. But I couldn’t believe I was hearing it (or a version of it, anyway) on an expensive coaching call.
“I appreciate the suggestion, but I don’t think that will work for me because…”
Despite the politeness, the statement amounted to a much uglier one: “Despite the fact that you’re an expert to whom I’m paying thousands of dollars, I don’t want to take your advice.”
It’s understandable that, as kids, there are certain problems we don’t want solved. “I know that I keep getting distracted by the music I’m listening to…but I can’t turn it off because it helps me concentrate.” We get good at creating a fortress of excuses that mutually reinforce each other to keep us from having to do things we don’t want to do.
In order to help us grow, the adults in our lives laid siege to our excuse fortress, or if we were particularly defensive, let the cannonballs fly over the ramparts.
“You don’t have time to take the trash out? It looks like we both have time right now! I’ll stand right here while you do it. I’m okay if you’re late for soccer practice.”
“I’m so sorry that your lucky pencil is missing an eraser. Here’s a brand new pencil — please go take your math test now.”
“You can’t clean your room because the dog is in there? Well, maybe Mr. Wiggles would like to come with me for now and see you after you’ve tidied up…”
As adults, however, we don’t always have people who are willing to put in the work to get through to us. If our excuse fortress is too strong, we won’t let our coaches, mentors, and colleagues penetrate it, even if we’re paying them a lot of money to help us.
Why does this happen? It’s simple: Change is hard. For some of us, acknowledging that we need to change is the same as saying that we were wrong. Otherwise, why would we need to change? And if being wrong is intolerable, it’s safer to tell the expert that she’s the one who’s wrong. She must not really understand the uniqueness of our particular situation.
Thus, people get stuck in rigid ways of thinking.
Their tennis serve stays the same: “But this is the way I like to hold my racquet. The other way is uncomfortable.”
Their business stays the same: “I can’t hire help because I can’t afford it/no one else can do it as well as I can/I don’t have time.”
Their relationships stay the same: “I can’t say that to her because then she’ll think she’s won.”
In order to overcome this destructive tendency, we must give ourselves permission to change. It helps to acknowledge that though something may have worked for us in the past, we don’t have to do it the same way forever. To adapt to new circumstances doesn’t mean that we were wrong before. We’re simply operating based on new information, new insights, and new circumstances.
That said, it’s even better if we are able to let go of the fear of being wrong in the first place. Maybe we are just wrong, and have been wrong the whole time. It’s saves a lot of time and energy to be able to quickly discard an inaccurate or underdeveloped way of doing things in favor of something better. While I empathize with the difficulty of doing this, it represents growth to be able to knowledge that we don’t have all the information and maybe somebody else can make a contribution to our endeavor.
It’s understandable to feel foolish or stupid for not seeing something that someone else can see so easily. It can be scary and upsetting to look back over decades’ worth of choices that we’ve made and see that we could’ve done it differently. But if we dig in and continue to say that we can’t change, that we can’t take a good suggestion because of…whatever, we’re perpetuating that same stuckness that we would ultimately like to get away from. The wise thing to do, however painful it may be, is to listen and learn and take action accordingly.
It may seem that it would be easier for someone with less time and effort invested to be able to do this, but even five-year-olds on their first day of piano lessons will fight me. I may be the expert with decades of experience as a teacher and player, but ego isn’t always rational. It’s hard for all of us humans. I think it helps to see how universal the struggle is.
It is hard to come out of our excuse fortress and shake hands with the enemy, but when we recognize the forces at play, they begin to have less power over us. Thinking of the strong-willed five-year-olds we all once were, we can have compassion for ourselves and appreciation for the person who is trying to help us. We can leave behind the defensive structures that once kept us safe. We can change and grow.