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The old saying, “Seeing is believing,” is hard to argue against. If I personally witness an event or situation, then there’s nothing to dispute. Similarly, if a person or an entity I trust witnessed an event, same thing: I believe it. But what about the converse of that statement? When it comes to making changes in my life I’m beginning to see that it’s not only probably true, it most certainly is true: believing is seeing.
I actually started thinking about this idea when dealing with my dad as he aged. He had always been an active person. He golfed every week (and walked the course), he never drove to anything nearby if he could walk instead. His work, setting tile and stone, was certainly physically demanding. But due to a car accident in his early eighties, his exercise commitment diminished. Not because he was badly injured, but because his second wife was. She almost didn’t make it and her recovery was long and circuitous. In short, he neglected himself as he took care of her. We kids helped as much as we could, but Dad lived in another town several hours away.
A few years later, he ended up in the ER due to a bleeding ulcer. Fortunately the surgery was successful but it left Dad really weak. Too weak to take care of himself and too much work for a wife who could barely care for herself. He refused to stay with any of his children to recover. So his doctors ordered nursing home care and physical therapy until he was strong enough to manage his life again.
Getting Dad to engage with the physical and occupational therapists was quite a chore. He knew he wasn’t strong enough to take care of himself, but he also didn’t really commit to performing the tasks they gave him. “It’s not going to matter,” he would say. Or, “I don’t notice any difference” (after barely a week). We all encouraged him to keep going; everyone wanted him to regain his independence.
But we couldn’t do it for him. And he didn’t think it was possible. I was frustrated but at some point I realized: why should he think it’s possible? He was eighty nine at that point. He did not grow up with physical education in school (and he had to drop out in eighth grade to help support his brothers and sisters). Reading articles about medicine or exercise did not interest him. Hospitals and doctors didn’t really impress him. Almost all his siblings and friends had either died or were debilitated with old age. He had never seen anyone make a comeback. Why would he believe in one for himself?
In her highly acclaimed book, Mindset, psychologist and researcher Carole Dweck explains that for people to be successful they must first believe it is possible to be so. In her terms, it means a person needs a growth mindset instead of a fixed one. Because a fixed mindset means you are a certain way (with certain talents) and that’s it. There’s nothing else you can add to the mix except to develop what you have. If you fail a math test, lose your job, or can’t finish the marathon then that’s it: it wasn’t meant to be. Growth mindsets, in contrast, allow learning and reevaluating. They promote potential.
As I write that, I realize how obviously wrong the fixed mindset looks to me. Now. But I was a sucker for that kind of thinking for a long time without ever questioning it. I had always been great in school (I was literally named the valedictorian of my kindergarten class) and my intelligence was my identity as a kid. When I got my first D in a college class, after returning from the workforce to finish my bachelor’s, I thought I was all washed up. I freaked. How can I ever graduate if I can’t even pass statistics (it was a core class for my major; I had to earn a C or above)?
That D got a lot of wheels turning. For the first time in my life I accepted that maybe there are some tasks that will be hard for me. Perhaps I need to forgive myself and instead of just expecting to excel (because I was intelligent, after all), I should actually make and work a plan. As I reflected on the semester that produced the D, I realized I was not putting in nearly enough effort. On most days I showed up to that class with minimal or no preparation. No studying; not even a glance at the text. What was I thinking?
Well, being a fixed mindset, I knew myself as an intellectual. A fast and easy learner. So I was above hard work when it came to learning; I was smart. And to be fair, I am (and was) smart: I know things. But the idea that talented people just coast into massive success or achievement is pure myth. Yes, some folks have valuable attributes (like size or musculature) or inborn skills (like listening well or observing carefully) but they don’t get very far if they don’t exercise those gifts. Most academic pursuits had been easy for me; that was my gift. Now they weren’t. Not only was I not sure of what to do, I was unsure of who I was.
Because of that fixed mindset, it took me awhile to understand that I needed to adjust. And to recognize that assuming natural talent was the greatest reason for someone’s success really wasn’t fair to that person. Or me. Because that assumption means the person succeeding is basically just lucky. And I’m unlucky. Case closed.
Such a viewpoint means that there’s no reason to attempt something after a setback, failure, or mistake. There’s no reason to exercise or engage in therapy. It means one doesn’t believe in the possibility of a breakthrough or recovery and therefore can’t imagine one. Not believing leads to not seeing. And, essentially, to giving up.
One of the practices suggested in Mindset is to challenge one’s fixed ideas with counter evidence. When one finds herself saying, “I never do well in statistics,” she needs to take a serious look at her past and recognize there probably are times when she succeeded. When a test turned out well or when a concept became fully clear. Forcing oneself to acknowledge previous wins in the area in question (or a similar one) chips away at the “I’m a loser” argument.
This method isn’t new. Cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) uses this technique, although it doesn’t name it anything. The basis of CBT is thinking. It recognizes that distorted thoughts about oneself and one’s abilities (“I’m no good at statistics”) lead to behaviors that defeat a person’s efforts. Or prevent a person from setting goals and making plans to begin with. From the outside looking in, it’s often obvious when others do this. It can be really difficult, however, to see it in ourselves.
Visualization is another skill that some people develop and they often swear by it. But what is visualization except believing? To practice it properly, one must imagine achieving a result in great detail. Which means, at the most fundamental level, that what you’re thinking about must be possible. You must believe in it to visualize it effectively. Dreaming about swimming in cash and marrying Chris Hemsworth might be fun but no one’s going to truly opt into it (I hope).
Now there are definitely times when one should dream big. All out fantasizing (talkin’ about you, Hemsworth!) can lead to real breakthroughs. But it doesn’t serve well when you’re planning the steps.
The key to success, then, is to do the research and figure out not only what you really want but also what’s currently doable in your life. So you can conjure an image of yourself that you know could actually come to be. Want to find a better job? Imagine what you want but also include all the ancillary benefits and activities that go with it. Things you understand and know about. Your office is in a small cottage near the beach with an excellent view of the ocean. Your clients are delightful, like minded folks who pay on time. Sales reach $10,000 in your first month (or whatever is worthy to you). You can bring your dog everywhere you go.
How different is that from just thinking, I want to make more money or I need a new start? And how might such an approach have helped my dad, so many years ago, when he needed to start his strengthening regimen? The good news is that he did eventually regain enough ability and fitness to return home. But it was a long haul. He kind of believed in therapy; enough to give it a shot. And as he got stronger he believed more, of course. So it worked out.
And perhaps it happens that way for a lot of us: we try, something comes through despite our doubts, and there we are. Triumphant. And who doesn’t want more triumphs? The trick seems to be not only to believe in the process but to remember that it’s worked for us.
And to believe, without reservation, that it will again.