Change is a Gradual Process (Unfortunately)

First published on September 2, 2020

I took almost all of August off this year. With the exception of a couple of clients who for various reasons it felt important to keep speaking to (who I condensed into speaking to over three Tuesday afternoons) I didn't work. And then, of course, I had to come back to work.

Which is what found me moping around our flat last night. I felt the reality of it, of work, of the lack of almost complete freedom I had had last month. I was miserable. One session hadn't gone as inspiringly as I'd imagined, a client had shown up late for another. A client for later in the week had cancelled. I just didn't feel good about my work. Lots of thoughts were going through my head: 'What am I doing here?' 'What am I even working towards?' 'Am I still dreading work, even after a career change? Even after all these years of trying to play more and more in my Zone of Genius? Even after tens of thousands of pounds of investment in myself and my work?'

I had grumbled and complained (and generally been miserable) in the presence of my wife for at least an hour at the end of the working day when, as I was walking into our bedroom (in order to mope some more), she called from the kitchen:

'Robbie, remember in your book where you chose to enjoy a cold...' She was referring to a story which you can read in full in the preview of Chapter One of The Power to Choose. (Emma's comment basically summarises the story: it turned out that most of the suffering I felt from having a cold was not about the cold, but was about my response to it.)

There was a long pause.

I did not like where this was going.

I began preparing to resist, to complain, to grumble. I was not going to just change how I felt. How ridiculous. It was a bad day. And I was miserable.

More pause.

'Do you know where I'm going with this..?'

And then somehow, it was hard not to laugh at it all. Something about Emma's tone of voice, the playfulness and love in the question (I'm not sure it would have worked if she had been full of frustration with me in that moment) opened things up for me. And things were different.

Not completely different; I had to keep reminding myself over the rest of the evening, taking a deep breath every now and then to feel that the different, non-mopy, more fun-to-be-around feeling was present in my body. But things were different. As soon as I remembered that I could choose. As soon as I stopped taking myself so bloody seriously.

As I sit here this morning, writing to you, this reminds me of two things.

First, the power of gradually understanding just how much power we have to choose our response. Just before my August break I was reminded of this when I interviewed Sunday Times bestselling author Jamie Smart for my podcast (the episode will be released later this week). Ahead of the interview, I was reminded that his work (also mentioned in The Power To Choose Chapter 1) was influential on me as I started my journey into deepening my understanding of reality. Perhaps the key insight is that everything we experience is based on our interpretation of reality, on what Smart calls 'Thought taking form in the moment'. And that insight and realisation can help us shift in the moment. The things we want are inside of us and are available to us.

Second, perhaps the most original thought I have had in five years of deepening my understanding of reality, and particularly of how humans change ourselves. That recommitting is the journey of change. That whether or not we change - at least, whether or not I change - does not come from simply deciding to change. Instead, it comes from remembering that I have decided to change, every time that I find myself reverting to old habits or states. It comes from finding the ways - practical, emotional, spiritual, relational - to keep remembering the change I have decided to make. It comes from finding all the stories and insights and realisations and ideas that help me to change, and using them to recommit to my change, each time I slip.

It may be that for some people, once they have seen an insight or a realisation things change instantly, always and forever. But that hasn't been the way things have changed for me. They absolutely have changed, but it has been a gradual process of commitment and recommitment.

And it helps to get a little friendly reminder sometimes, too, especially from someone you love.