Phase: Change

When creating a change we tend to do one of two things. A) We bend our expectations around the framework of reality, i.e., “Wow, I am depressed! I bet this has something to do with the fact that I am dependent on external sources to determine my self worth. I should really change that”, or B) we bend reality around the framework of our expectations, i.e., “Wow, I am depressed! I’ll bet this has something to do with my bust line. I should really change that”. They both have their benefits, but I’m going to bet the first one is more effective while strangely, the second is far more popular.

Don’t think so?
Let’s all hail the masterpiece that is the human form (or twist it around, poke at it and pump a bunch of Botox, plastic and silicone in it until we can look at ourselves in the mirror). In total, Americans spend approximately $8.4 billion annually on cosmetic surgery. The average nose job costs between $3,000 and $7,000. The average breast augmentation runs around $3,500. Oh yeah, bending the reality of the body around internal expectations is popular and (for a short time) effective.
The gratification that comes from losing love handles is fast and easily measurable, thus its success has swollen and plumped in the modern world of microwave media. The more we rely on the physical as a source of happiness, the easier it becomes to bow out of emotional accountability (this is coming from a guy runs 30 miles a week and spends six days a week in the gym). The logic is simple: “Hey, I know why Dad’s depressed, because he looks like a frozen chicken when he’s naked.”

Perhaps this is more indicative of our culture; the tendency to treat the symptom instead of the sickness. We are putting air into leaking tires; bailing water on the Titanic.
My stepfather had surgery on his hip a few years ago. It was a common procedure, executed at one of the best facilities in the country. But as he recovered, he noticed certain pain that he had not experienced before. He was patient, and worked with his physical therapist for months to regain his flexibility and strength but still there was an unnatural discomfort that kept him from feeling healed. The doctors offered him cortisone and painkillers, they offered more physical therapy, they offered him condolences and let him know that these things take time.
My stepfather looked at the reality of his situation (real shitty pain) and tried to bend his expectations around that reality (something probably went wrong in the healing process).
A few months ago the doctors discovered that as his hip was healing, groups of nerves had been pinched between the new metal ball and socket of his state-of-the-art hip. Imagine a G.I. Joe’s hip socket after a kid had played with it for hours on the beach. Bits of sand accumulate in the joint scraping and impeding mobility. Now imagine those bits of sand are nerves. His doctor’s solution: eat some pills and we will deal with reality when you get tired of that.
For most of my junior year of high school I rode to lunch with a friend who drove a brilliant white dying American car. It had problems; we called them character and ignored them. When the car made an unusual sound, the problem was clear…the stereo was obviously not loud enough. This lasted a few months and inevitably our “solution” backfired leaving us walking to lunch for the remainder of the year.
If this logic is ridiculous when applied to a car, why is it not when applied to our lives?
Because, for most of us, the prospect of immediate tangible change (“change we can see” ) is far more valuable than change that will last but takes time to achieve. For the cost of a cheap new nose, I could see my therapist every week for three years. Would a new face make me feel better? For a time, but the deeper lying insecurities that led me to despise my face so much that I had it surgically manipulated would still be there.
Real lasting change is hard. It is often conceptual and intangible. For me is like rearranging my living room using levitation and fairy dust. It is scary and hard to turn down the radio and open the hood. It is painful and difficult to reopen the wound and tear the nerves from the bone. It is lonely to look away from a mirror or a scale to measure progress. But it’s lasting and its honest…and it’s real.


(black and whites courtesy of gymjones.com)