When I slowed down posts two years ago, I was making a major career transition. Since we last spoke, I completed a fellowship in addiction psychiatry and joined the faculty at the University of Utah Spencer Fox Eccles School of Medicine. I love my new job, and it’s allowed writing to move back into my top 5 priorities.

I’m working on a lot of exciting posts surrounding the topics of sex, drugs and suicide. I’ve decided to stop updating this website for now, and will instead will be posting exclusively at SexDrugsAndSuicide.com.

Please consider subscribing to Sex, Drugs, and Suicide. I can’t wait to show you more.

-Jeff

Here’s a common example I hear almost every day: “I can’t do that because of anxiety.” It might be true; it might not be. How could you possibly know unless you try? But more importantly, the thought isn’t very useful if the thing you “can’t do” is something you really want. It provides a convenient excuse that you can turn to when you feel overwhelmed. Fighting against it, however, can often make the thought stronger. So rather than trying to contradict the thought or reframe it as something more helpful, it might be worthwhile just to recognize that the thought is there, and that you get to choose what you do with it. This thought doesn’t represent you. It doesn’t predict the future. And you can’t know if it’s true unless you commit yourself to action.

When I sat down to write this post, I was struck with the thought “this is too hard to do today.” I felt an immense weight behind posting something meaningful. I thought of writing a brief, low effort post. And that would have been fine. My current goal is to publish a single post every week; to build a habit first, and hope that skill develops with practice. Thankfully, the practice I’ve been doing with cognitive defusion–techniques used to “unstick” myself from my thoughts–kicked in. I noticed that what I had experienced was just a thought, and I started writing something anyways. It was painful and difficult at first. I still didn’t want to do it. And yet after a few minutes, I started to feel some relief. It felt right, and I’m glad I did it. It doesn’t always work that way, but I’m hopeful that I’ll get better with practice.

“I can’t do that because…” is almost never helpful. And, well, it’s just a thought. Recognize the noise your mind presents to you, but don’t believe it. Focus on what matters most. And then take a small step away from the darkness. You might find yourself enjoying the journey. 

At the same time, some of the most powerful influences in the world drive our lives through frank behaviorism. A notification on my phone triggers craving in me just as well as any dog. I’ve got a 6-inch, battery-powered, operant conditioning machine in my pocket right now. And there are thousands of products offering cheap satisfaction that I can have right now.

There are deep reasons for why we do what we do–and they’re worth exploring. But while we’re discovering the context for our decisions, it’s really nice to replace a few of our more impairing triggers with frequent reminders to engage with a few things that bring us lasting meaning. 

Because even though crude behaviorism can’t explain everything about people, what we choose to do determines who we become.

You may be stretched too thin to reach all your goals. 

Try doing less. You can choose to be just “good enough” at most tasks so that you can be exceptional at the one or two things that really matter. 

There’s no honor in busyness. Choose to be great instead.

Before talking about what I’m planning to do, I’d like to discuss goals more broadly. Most goals fall into two different categories: outcome goals and process goals.

Outcome goals have a clearly defined final outcome. Lose 5 pounds Get a promotion. Save $1,000. If we can state how things will look at the end, we’ve created an outcome goal. 

Process goals describe a change in ongoing behavior. Run for 10 minutes each day. Complete one extra task this week. Pack a lunch instead of eating out. Process goals are initiated and sustained; they are never completed.

A good process goal is usually tied to an outcome goal. “I will start running 10 minutes each day as part of my goal to lose 5 lbs.” “I will complete one extra task each day at work so that I’m more likely to be promoted.” “I will pack a lunch instead of eating out to help me save $1,000.” 

Process goals help us focus on what we can change, while outcome goals often have elements that are outside our control. We have a lot of control over whether we start running, but less control of our metabolisms. We can choose to work harder, but we can’t control whether our bosses choose to promote us. We can pack a lunch to save money, but we can’t predict whether we’ll have unexpected purchases or be the victim of a tanking economy.

When we fail to achieve outcome goals, we need to ask a few questions: did I do everything in my control? Can I try again, or do I need to do something different? What will I change next time? Is this the outcome what I really want, or is there some other way to reach my goal? If this outcome was dependent on someone else, are they willing to give me a second chance? We ask ourselves these questions with both compassion and honesty. Beating ourselves up doesn’t work, and ignoring our mistakes prevents us from learning. We often do the best we can with the skills, motivation, and situation we had, and (not but!) we can still learn to do better.

My failure this week was an outcome failure, so I’ll go through these questions:

• Did I do everything in my control? With the skills and time frame I had to apply, I did all that I could. That doesn’t mean that everything I did was perfect, but I did put forth a good faith effort. 
• Can I try again, or do I need to do something different? I can’t try again with this specific program for a whole year. To reach my ultimate goal, I think I’ll be better off if I do something different rather than waiting for this particular gatekeeper to choose me. 
• What will I change next time? The next time I apply for something like this, I’ll be sure to focus on conveying information visually. My application was primarily written content, and I don’t think I played to all of my strengths.
• Is this the outcome that I really want, or is there some other way to reach my goal? I want to build meaningful psychotherapy apps in virtual reality. This training program is one way to get there, but it isn’t the only way. There are many other resources I can use.
• If this outcome was dependent on someone else, are they willing to give me a second chance? Yes, but it may not matter by then. There are other ways to reach my goal. (And of course, failure to have my application chosen isn’t a reflection on me. My work wasn’t good enough for the competition judges. That’s something I can change.)

In short, failing to achieve an outcome goal leaves us with two good options: improve our process so that we’re more likely to achieve our goal the next time, or adjust our aim with the new information we’ve just discovered. 

Next week, I’ll talk about what happens when we fail to develop or maintain process goals.