I'm a big believer in personal growth. Lately, I've wondering if anyone can ever experience real personal growth without everything falling apart first.
In other words, the crisis theory of change.
It would seem with all the self-help books out there and an Internet offering a veritable smorgasbord of facts at our fingertips 24/7 that we would be the healthiest, most enlightened, happiest generation around. But to me, it seems we are more confused than ever.
I had posted
Weighing in on weight on a women's Web site and got a lot of women upset with my thoughts that if you're unhappy with your weight (or drinking, or infidelities, blah, blah, blah), you've got to change your lifestyle. And I acknowledged it's hard.
But maybe you can't "just do it."
For all my hippish and questioning beginnings, I didn't start to do the real work on myself until my marriage started crumbling and we headed for a divorce. In a very warped way, I'm glad it happened because it was the slap across my face that got me to be fully present and engaged in my life (and The Kid's, too, although I know that the divorce most likely helped create lifelong issues for him). And, of course, it sent me straight to the shrinks and self-help workshops to understand what the hell had happened and what my role in it was � and how not to repeat those bad behaviors. And I get it! It all became so much clearer to me. But you know, it's a process, I still make mistakes (but I know it while I'm doing them!) and I'm still learning.
But could I, or any of us, accomplish the same thing just because we wanted to shake things up in our life? Could we really change our bad patterns and behaviors � and keep it up � without having the emotionally wrenching reality check? For some people I know, it took a DUI for them to get real about their drinking. For others, it took a divorce to get them to face up to their addictions. And for others, it took a medical emergency to get real about their unhealthy diets and lifestyle.
Yet even that doesn't always do it. I was watching the irreverent comedy "Scrubs" with The Kid the other day (and I seriously think the main reason I've been watching it with him is because I have a
huge crush on
Zach Braff Those lips!!!), and it was the episode in which a man returns several times to Sacred Heart hospital for the same serious medical condition because he just will not change his diet, even though he knows it may eventually kill him. Sure, this is just TV, but ... don't we all know someone like that?
So even a crisis doesn't do it for some of us. Why?
According to Rebecca Skloot's
Why is it So D**m Hard to Change in O The Oprah Magazine, change is hard because it "means fighting one of the most fundamental neurological systems in the brain."
Then she goes on to say that
"hormones released by the body in response to stress are our worst enemy when it comes to change: They actually inhibit the frontal lobe, which makes the brain revert to behaviors that don�t require conscious decisions (eating our familiar foods, drinking, smoking). Not only do stress hormones impair the areas of our brains that need to be active to change, they also stimulate our emotional centers, which send out signals telling us to decrease the stress. And what decreases stress? Food (because it releases natural opiates), alcohol, cigarettes, shopping."
So all of this sound to me like it's really, really hard. I mean, who wants to go head-to-head with hard-wired biological destiny? I have a feeling I know who'd win on that one!
Yet, if we truly want to change our bad ways, we have to, like it or not.
As Skloot says:
"change is monumentally difficult. Some people can just wake up one morning, decide to change, and stick with it. But many, perhaps most, can�t. The reason may be genetic; it may be the way you�re raised; perhaps some people have stronger frontal lobes than others. Scientists still aren�t sure. What they do know is, if you�re one of those people who struggle, that�s nothing to beat yourself up over�it�s just the way your brain works. But it�s also not an excuse to toss in the towel and say, Well, I don�t have enough dopamine, or My bad pathways are too strong. As (neuroscientist and "Brain and Culture" author) Bruce Wexler told me, �The more we understand what we�re up against, the more we can develop strategies that will help us work with our brains to change successfully.
I'm all for working with our brains. Sometimes, however, I wish mine would work
with me for a change!
Have you changed your life without having to go through "the crisis"?
Kat Wilder's My So-called Midlife