By Steve Magness
Thursday, June
30, 2022
Flipping out when asked to wear a mask in
a store or on a plane. Trigger warnings. Safe spaces in a university. Avoiding
controversial topics. Banning books that have any semblance of a connection to
CRT. Accidentally using the wrong verbiage. Trolling, blocking, or censoring
people online. What do these things have in common?
Discomfort. We don’t like it. We avoid it.
Something makes us feel anxious, stressed,
or uncertain and we can’t handle it. A book, mask, online troll, ideology, or a
slight sensation of physical effort and fatigue makes us feel out of sorts, and
we seek to eliminate that sensation as quickly as possible. Sometimes, we
spiral out of control. We end up a “Karen” on social media. Or we lose our mind
convinced that a mask is causing oxygen deprivation and carbon dioxide
poisoning. (Hint: it doesn’t.) Some of us freak out, unleashing a barrage of
hate online and in person, disguised as some act of self-righteousness. Others
retreat, trying to cocoon themselves from anything, or anyone, who might invoke
inner conflict.
The point isn’t to comment on whether some
of the aforementioned threats or actions are legitimate or not. Some may very
well be. But what I’m more concerned with is a trend I’ve noticed over the last
few years. One that compelled me to write my new book, Do Hard Things. We’ve lost the ability to navigate our inner worlds, to sit with or
navigate anything uncomfortable. We avoid, push away, or lash out because we
don’t know how to handle discomfort. In fact, you may be experiencing that
right now. At the mere mention of masks, CRT, or safe spaces, perhaps your mind
jumped into “protect and defend” mode. Ready to label, discredit, and dismiss this very essay.
As a society, we’ve learned to react
instead of respond. To flip out instead of coolly finding our way through. And
the solutions offered, by all sides of the political spectrum, are sorely
lacking. Half the world is telling us to put our head down, to get tough. They
harken back to a day when men were manly, ignored their feelings, bulldozed
through their problems, and acted like hard-asses. The other half pushes us to
affirm and validate everything we feel. They tell us that avoidance is a
legitimate end goal. That we should accommodate, so that we don’t have to face
things that make us feel anxious. We’ve gone way off track. To understand why
this is so important, let’s start with how we handle discomfort.
Withstanding pain
How would you handle having a hot probe
placed on your wrist if you were unable to move it away? Chances are you might
freak out a bit. When researchers placed average people into an fMRI machine to scan their brains while hot probes were resting on their
wrists, they did just that. They rated the experience as intensely painful, and
then their brain scans confirmed how their brains were reacting. They were
freaking out.
When they replaced the average Joes with a
group of meditation experts, the experience changed. The meditators still rated
the hot probe as being just about as painful as the regular folk had rated it.
But their reaction was entirely different. It started before they even felt
discomfort. In anticipation of the heat, an area in the amygdala, the threat-
and emotion-processing part of the brain, lit up in the novices. The
meditators’ threat-detecting software remained unfazed. Before they even felt pain,
both groups were preparing in drastically different ways. One was on high
alert, readying for catastrophe. The other was aware but decided not to trigger
the alarm.
When the probe hit the skin, the novices
felt their pain grow. The meditators quickly adapted. It wasn’t that they were
shutting off the pain, ignoring it, or pushing it away. They were actually
activating the insula, a part of the brain linked to integrating the
significance of the sensations one experiences. Meditation had taught them how
to turn a nearly automatic reaction into a thoughtful response.
This capacity isn’t unique to meditators.
You may understand it yourself. If you’ve ever taken up exercising after a long
layoff, you’ve experienced the same phenomenon. The first hard workout you
attempt, your brain is screaming at you to stop almost from the get-go. That
inner alarm goes off early and often. At the first hint of fatigue, you start
looking for ways to quit. It doesn’t matter that you have way more left in the
tank. When you haven’t experienced the pain of working out in a while, your
brain is trigger-happy. It interprets a slight bump in heart rate as a signal
that you are in trouble. It sounds the alarm. As your fitness improves, that
alarm gets quieter.
The same principle applies for any kind of
discomfort, be it physical or psychological. Our alarm system is malleable. It
can either go off at the slightest hint of fatigue or it can be taught to go
off only when we are in real danger. When we haven’t experienced discomfort for
a while, or when we’ve been told over and over that a mask or other item is
dangerous and threatening, our brain listens. It turns the dial up.
How do we turn into our meditation
experts, able to turn down our alarms and navigate discomfort?
1. Accept reality
2. Learn to listen
3. Embrace discomfort
4. Learn to respond, not react
Accept reality
When we resist or go into a situation with
a kind of bravado or when we deny the reality that it’s normal to face doubts
and insecurities, we are actually sabotaging our performance. We’ve created
unrealistic expectations. Our brain gets the message that any doubts or
thoughts of quitting are bad. They’re a sign that we aren’t ready. So, when
they inevitably come, our brain sounds the alarm. If we truly believe they are
a sign of weakness, then we default to avoidance and justification. We resist
putting ourselves in any place or situation where we could come face-to-face
with our own inferiority. And then we justify and excuse our actions instead of
facing reality.
Contrary to the views of those who scream
about society’s lack of masculinity, awareness and acceptance are necessary
ingredients for taking on difficult tasks. It’s not weak to be aware of the
reality you’re facing, even the messy parts. It’s a strength to acknowledge if
you suffer from some form of mental health issue or that certain situations
cause you anxiety. Accepting reality allows us to do something about it, to
learn to deal with it. Acceptance means coming to terms with the reality of the
situation and what you’re capable of. When there’s a mismatch between
expectations and reality is when we run into problems. Whether that’s because
of bravado or because we think we’re under dire threat, reality often differs
from perception. Real toughness is facing reality with clear eyes, including
the messy parts.
Learn to listen
I’ve spent over a dozen years working with
some of the best endurance athletes on the planet who compete in events where
it seems their sole goal is to handle as much pain and fatigue as they can
take. That’s why it’s surprising to hear that everyone I talked to, from
Olympians to record holders, all looked for an out. They all had stories of
wanting to find a hole to step in or a curb to trip on in the middle of a race.
They all wanted to quit. It wasn’t a sign of weakness. It was normal.
As one world-class runner told me: “You
have to accept the reality of the situation. Your mind is going to go to a dark
place. That doesn’t mean you are weak. It’s just your brain trying to protect
you. You get to decide what you do with that information.” Elite endurance
athletes see their inner voice and the feelings that come with it as
information, not a personal sign of who they are. They don’t push away or
ignore their feelings and inner voices; they learn to listen to them.
Listening doesn’t mean we have to validate
the feelings as true, as they are often incorrect. But the only way we learn to
distinguish what is pain versus an injury, or anxiety alerting danger versus
anxiety protecting our ego, is to get to know them. It’s why research shows
the best athletes, soldiers, and even stockbrokers all score highly on something called interoception—our ability to
read our internal signals. The better we’re able to understand and communicate
with what’s going on in our inner world, the better we’re able to decide
whether to heed its warnings or let them pass on by.
By accepting that our inner doubts and
anxieties are a part of life, we learn to use them as information. Some we’ll
listen to, like the runner who learns that an early sign of fatigue means they
need to top up their energy levels with a carbohydrate drink. Others we’ll
realize are like our crazy aunt ranting on Facebook—a delusional rant that we
should just scroll on by. Not every feeling needs to be validated. Some are, in
fact, crazy or misinformed. It’s sorting through what is worth listening to and
what is our crazy aunt that matters.
Seek out and embrace discomfort
Awareness is great. But not so much, if we
stop there. We tweet or post our struggles. That we, too, are having a
difficult time. We get lots of support. We’ve received a feel-good hit of
dopamine as we’ve shared our struggles and embraced vulnerability as all the
self-help books suggest. But what really matters is what occurs next. Do we do
something about our struggles?
A recent study found that seeking out discomfort is motivating when it’s done in
pursuit of growth. Those who sought discomfort instead of focusing on the
outcome or benefit of an activity were more engaged and open to reading about
and learning from the other side of a controversial topic. Furthermore, when
people were recruited to have a discussion with someone on the other side of
the political aisle, those who were instructed to seek out discomfort were more
open and receptive to opposing viewpoints than those who were told to try to
learn from the other person. When it comes to dealing with controversial
topics, the answer isn’t to avoid politics as we do at family gatherings across
the country. The answer is to make embracing discomfort the goal.
When we embrace discomfort, we take
ourselves out of protect-and-defend mode and into a place to be challenged and
grow. As we’ve long known in the world of exercise, a little bit of stress is a
good thing. It sends the signal to your body to adapt and grow stronger. The
same principle applies to our psychological stressors. A little bit of stress
can open the way to resilience.
Look no further than the two most widely
used and effective therapies in dealing with anxiety and mental health
disorders. They both teach us to deal with the thing, not avoid it. Exposure
and response therapy relies on putting you in a situation that evokes fear or
anxiety and then learning to accept and sit with it. If your fear is of
heights, you stand on a balcony, often with support there, until your brain
learns that it’s okay and you don’t have as much to worry about as you think.
Over time, it’s as if you are telling your brain, “I appreciate you sounding
the alarm and telling me I am high off the ground. But there’s no need to sound
the alarm. Everything is okay.”
Another gold standard in treatment,
cognitive behavioral therapy relies on cultivating awareness of inaccurate or
irrational assessments of triggers and threats and changing our response to
such events. Learning how to navigate, not avoid or bulldoze through, works in
the psychologist’s office just like it does out on the athletic fields or
military training grounds. If we want to learn to turn down the alarm, we’ve
got to face the challenge.
Respond, don’t react
According to research, when put through extreme stress, 96 percent of a sample of both
general infantry and Special Forces soldiers experienced dissociative symptoms.
Sixty-five percent reported having "lost track of what was going on."
All but two of the 94 soldiers interviewed said they "felt as if they were
looking at the world through a fog." Not exactly the experience you want
to be having when in the midst of combat and survival.
When it comes to training soldiers to
handle the uncertainty and stress of war, the military doesn’t just throw them
into the deep end and see if they can swim. It’s not simply doing hard things
that matters. In 2014, the RAND foundation was tasked with answering an
important question: "Is the Air Force doing everything it can to prepare
battlefield airmen to perform successfully under stressful conditions?" In
evaluating nearly a dozen methods of preparing soldiers for the stress they’d
experience, there were two items sitting atop the list of recommendations.
First, emphasizing core skills that aid performance, including confidence, goal
setting, attention control, arousal control, imagery, self-talk,
compartmentalization, and mental skills foundation. And second, ensuring those skills
are mastered before exposure to stressful conditions.
In other words, you need to teach the
skill first. And those skills don’t evolve simply by pushing through pain but
through creating space so that you have influence over your inner world and can
keep your mind steady. Stress inoculation doesn’t work unless you have acquired
the skills to navigate the environment you will encounter. As sports
psychologist Brian Zuleger told me: “Telling people to relax doesn’t work
unless you’ve taught people how actually to relax. The same goes for mental
strength. The historical way to develop toughness was to do something
physically challenging, and you’d have a 50-50 shot if they thrived. You have
to teach the skill before it can be applied.”
The path to staying calm, cool, and
collected isn’t to bulldoze through; it is to learn to navigate and respond
instead of reacting. The military experts are just like our meditation experts.
They learn how to respond by first developing the mental skills to handle
whatever it is they’ll face. Then they put themselves in situations that allow
them to apply what they learn. The meditators do this by sitting with their
inner world, learning to let thoughts float on by, and not assigning excess
importance to any feeling that might arise while they are meditating. They
experience discomfort or an inner world that trends toward chaotic, and they
learn to not scratch the itch.
The same holds for the rest of us. When we
learn to sit with discomfort, to get comfortable being uncomfortable, we can
navigate discomfort with equanimity. Not by avoiding, resisting, or bulldozing,
but by doing hard things, and calmly, coolly teaching our brains that they
don’t have to sound the alarm, that we’ve got everything under control.
In our everyday lives, we don’t train our
minds to respond; we train them to do the opposite—to react. We call people out
on Facebook; we give in to the urge to roast someone on Twitter. We get
outraged by what we see on cable news. We flip out when our congressman tells us
there’s another existential threat coming our way. We aren’t taking cues from
the Special Forces, monks, or the best endurance athletes, to learn to sit with
discomfort.
The wrong kind of toughness
We are the novice meditators who can’t see
anything but the pain of the probe right in front of us. Our amygdala lights up
and tells the rest of our body a threat is near. We lose control,
catastrophize, and, before we know it, we’re screaming at someone online. We’ve
forgotten how to navigate our inner world. We push away, ignore, or avoid. We
react instead of responding. We lose our minds, freaking out when someone holds
a different view or asks us to do something that, ultimately, is a minor
inconvenience. We don’t know how to sit with the inevitable discomfort that
life brings. We’ve trained our brains to avoid, resist, and freak out.
We need to retrain our brains. To not see
threats everywhere, to not think that everyone is out to get us, that any slight
feeling of discomfort should lead us straight to a freak-out. The answer
doesn’t lie in the traditional advice to “toughen up” but in a more nuanced
version. One that starts with awareness and acceptance but encompasses learning
how to sit with discomfort.
Real toughness isn’t about manliness,
machismo, or bravado. It’s not about the external. It’s about the internal.
It’s about being able to understand, navigate, and cope with the inevitable
rigors of life. We’ve forgotten that those who shout the loudest, those who
need to put up pictures or run political ads showing their strength, often are
the most insecure. The ones who can’t deal with the inner turmoil that we all
experience.
We need to realize that toughness doesn’t
come from dictating, demanding, and controlling. Decades of research has shown that it’s the opposite. People persist through pain and
discomfort much more when their basic psychological needs are met. When people
feel that they belong, that they have a voice and choice, that they can make
progress toward a meaningful goal, they can handle what life throws at them.
It seems like our modern world has pushed
us towards taking the opposite approach. We all feel a bit lost. We may think
we belong in our corner of the Internet, but we’ve lost genuine in-person
connection. Many are stuck in jobs and pursuits without a clear path toward
progress. And most of us are being micromanaged to death. All the while, we
think that the path back toward normal, to getting rid of this chronic
low-level anxiety we all feel, is to simply avoid things that make us
uncomfortable.
Maybe, just maybe, we need to take the
advice that my wife who teaches elementary school kids gives to her young
students when they complain about their latest assignment. She supports them,
creates a classroom where they feel like they belong, and gently reminds them
when they are struggling through a difficult chapter book: “You can do hard
things.”
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