What We Already Know
Why understanding doesn't always lead to change
Sometimes the way forward begins with understanding why the old way has been so hard to leave.
You’d be surprised how many coaching conversations eventually come to the same two words:
I know.
I know…I feel better when I exercise.
I know…I should have that conversation.
I know…I need to slow down a little.
In my experience, most people aren’t confused about what might help.
They’re more frustrated that knowing what would help isn’t always enough.
It’s easy to treat this as a discipline or motivation issue.
“If this really mattered to me, I would figure it out.”
But I think that explanation feels a little too easy.
I’ve been confronting my own version of this lately.
You see, I have a bad habit of overexplaining myself.
And it’s frustrating because it’s so odd; I’m usually the quietest person in the room. I’d much rather listen than speak.
And in those moments, I can almost always recognize when a sentence or two would be enough. But I tend to keep on explaining my thought anyway.
I initially brought it into supervision as a communication habit to correct.
The intentions were straightforward:
I. Talk less.
II. Get to the point.
III. Trust that the client can always ask for more.
All great advice.
But this is more than a communication flaw.
Those extra words are doing something for me.
They help me feel less likely to be misunderstood.
They also lessen the likelihood that a client might experience me as judgmental or disagree with what I’m saying.
And let’s be honest: it’s not that I’m unable to be concise.
Protecting how I’m received just feels more important in those moments.
But listen, not every gap between knowing and doing contains something this deep.
Sometimes we’re just tired.
Sometimes the plan asks for more than our current capacity allows.
But when the same pattern keeps popping up, even when we sincerely want to change, it may be worth asking what our usual response is doing for us.
Are we avoiding that conversation because other things are truly more important right now?
Or are we protecting ourselves from another person’s reaction?
Is the work actually that important that we can’t take breaks from it?
Or are we running from the discomfort of leaving something unfinished?
The behavior may be creating problems.
It may also be protecting us from one we haven’t named.
After enough failed attempts to change, we often go searching for another strategy.
Sometimes it helps. Other times, it becomes something else to ignore…
and one more reason to believe we should be doing better.
What happens in the moment when your intention becomes harder to follow?
What does your typical response help you avoid, protect, or control in that moment?
And what might following through look like even if the discomfort remained?
Understanding what our usual response is doing for us might not make discomfort disappear.
But change doesn’t always begin with feeling different.
Sometimes it begins with making a different choice while the discomfort is still there.
I’m still practicing this myself.
When I feel that third or fourth sentence coming, I’m trying to notice what I believe one more explanation might secure.
Sometimes I still let it out.
Sometimes, I let the other person ask for more.
This post includes a short practice for paid subscribers—a way to look more closely at one moment when knowing wasn’t enough.
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Coaching
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Cory, like just about everything you write, i relate to this. I’m a peer specialist, and peer specialists are encouraged to share their own life experiences. But I’m trying to do less of this because sometimes I think I overshare. I have to remind myself that the group or the conversation isn’t about me. It’s about the people I’m trying to help.
"Sometimes we’re just tired.
Sometimes the plan asks for more than our current capacity allows."
I know that wasn’t the point, but it sure feels like life is going too fast for me right now to step back and utilize the tools I have acquired.
I had two medical check-ins today. The first said "Retire, but you're only 57". The second got mad at the first one, "He really doesn't understand what you have/are going through does he?". My response was "No, and that's why I am talking to you and not him." 😀