The Bigger Picture

You’ll Only Change When You’re Ready, Part 1

Most of us are creatures of habit and we make our most comfortable, most familiar decisions out of routine. It doesn’t matter if the decision carries intrinsic benefits or drawbacks; as long as the decision is tried and true and and can be found within our comfort zone, there’s a high probability we’ll opt for it. Every time.

Don’t believe me?

Take bathing, for example. Bathing has numerous benefits. Electing to indulge in this practice at least once a day is a no-brainer. In this culture, we all bathe at our preferred time of day without giving it a second thought, but primarily out of habit; pressure from the public notwithstanding when necessary.

At the opposite end of the spectrum is Thanksgiving, huddled with all the other situations riddled with potential drawbacks. We know it would be best for all concerned if we took the high road and fought the impulse to respond in kind to a drunk uncle or combative relative’s snark bomb lobbed in our general direction because the resulting thermonuclear holocaust would rain down like napalm upon the festivities. But the lure of shutting ’em down with the perfect quip is often too tempting to pass up. So we engage in behavior that we live to regret seconds later, just like the year before, and the year before that . . .

Why do we continue to make the same bad decisions when there are better options at our disposal?

It’s not so much that we make the same decisions with the intention of doing harm, as much as we do so out of familiarity. The results may be distasteful, but they’re predictable on a subconscious level; and like it or not, those tired, old, worn-out interactions bring with them a certain amount of comfort. I don’t mean comfort in a cushy, warm and fuzzy sense. I’m referring to a twisted sense of comfort that doesn’t require that we anticipate anything new. That’s why attending certain gatherings or interactions with specific people have all the stimulation of spending twelve hours on a hamster wheel. No change in scenery. No hint of variety whatsoever.

Signposts and Side Effects

I’ve always been the type of person who likes to look for patterns in life. I constantly ask myself, “What’s the big picture here? What’s really going on?” I encountered a few signposts and side effects along the way before I was ready to change the way I dealt with life’s challenges. If any of the following are telling you something’s gotta give, you’re well on the way to making a change—

Exhaustion  Don’t be fooled, being the Master of Everyone’s Domain and bending circumstances and people to one’s will takes a lot of time, energy, and forethought. A lot.

The Pain  Just like exhaustion, fighting the natural flow of life left me emotionally beat up and hurting.

The Old Ways Stopped Working  Either because I stopped bringing my A-game or the fact that people started to catch on to my modus operandi. Once they were aware, everything I did became suspect, and folks refused to be played.

Status Quo  More of often than not, the circumstances were no better after I applied my machinations than before. If anything, the situations worsened from lack of adequate attention.

Another Way  After I came to the end of myself, after the battle fatigue, the hurt, and the lack of results, then and only then did it dawn on me that there had to be another way to live. Watching the way other people lived, I hoped there was another way because my schemes weren’t panning out.

I needed to learn how to deal with trying situations and people other than manipulating people and situations via less than scrupulous means, but what was it?


an excerpt from the book, “3 Things I Know: Facing and Embracing Life’s Challenges”

2 thoughts on “You’ll Only Change When You’re Ready, Part 1”

  1. Brian says:

    Looking forward to part two! Although, in my experience, the headline should read, “You Only Change When You Have To.”

    Having gone through some grueling, midlife changes myself (divorce, career), I have often thought of the potter-clay analogy. I bet the clay doesn’t enjoy the process of being squeezed, rolled, poked, stretched, and molded into a vase. In fact it hurts like hell. Given the clay’s choice, it would prefer to stay the big clumpy mass it has always been. But the potter has other ideas – and sees the beautiful potential for the clay.

    (And yes I do get the double meaning with your name. Not very subtle, am I?)

    1. Clay Rivers says:

      Brian, I’ve often thought of the potter-clay analogy often; especially during those periods of being remade by the Potter into someone/something that truly suits his purpose. Resisting his purpose is really kinda laughable when you think about it. A plate can’t be very successful as cup. A plate is at its best when it’s serving its intended purpose. Thanks for your continued support and insights!

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