Lessons From Obedience School
Sitting on the car seat next to me is 3 pages of detailed, hand-written notes. I keep eye-balling them suspiciously. They’re coming home with me but I haven’t fully decided what happens after that. These are notes I took today during a call with a dog behavioral trainer named Karen. I could tell immediately when talked to Karen that she knew what she was talking about and that the program she was walking me through would work. You know, your gut will tell you when someone is being a snake charmer and when they are truly passionate and knowledgeable, and Karen was definitely the second.
If you read the “life” section of my blog, then you probably know about my dog Buddy. We got Buddy as a five year old rescue last year, not fully realizing the extent of his separation anxiety. It’s been a challenging year – cleaning “bio-hazardous” materials out of many surfaces of my home, putting my sewing skills to the test to repair curtains, filling scratches in dry wall and last but not least, repairing teeth. (I did not repair the teeth, of course… paying for them to be repaired.) We’ve tried many different strategies, including both medicinal and multiple behavioral strategies but hadn’t had a great deal of progress in the year we had owned him. And of course, we had fallen head over paws in love with him so there was no going back – we’re pretty desperate to help our Buds.
I could tell immediately upon talking to Karen that her plan had the potential to be very effective. So why was I glancing over at my copious pile of notes with something that could only be described as hesitation?
To tell you the truth, Karen’s plan sounded like a lot of work. Not hours upon hours and not “miss a day and fail” but definitely consistent, daily effort. It would require a lifestyle change. And I couldn’t help but wonder, were Matt and I ready to commit to that kind of change? But wait… didn’t we desperately want this outcome? Didn’t I say I would do anything to make this happen? Didn’t I swear if Cesar would come visit me, I would pay for his plane ticket from LA?
It occurred to me that perhaps what I was feeling was similar to what many of my clients might feel when it first dawns on them that the outcome they so desperately want, would do anything for is going to require consistent, daily effort. A lifestyle change.
Whether it’s weight loss, a career change, creating a less stressful lifestyle or altering an anxious doggy’s behavior, we know intuitively it’s going to take effort. So how come when we hold a plan in our hot little hands we often balk?
At first glance, it seems a simple cost vs. benefit analysis. Do I want the outcome (benefit) bad enough to invest the time, money or effort (cost) that it will take to get there? The urgency of our desire weighs into that equation – if you have 10 pounds to lose, do you want the outcome less than someone who has 80 pounds? Maybe. Maybe not. And some of it depends on the cost: if it took 10 minutes a day, would you be more willing to move forward more readily than if it took 40 minutes a day? Maybe. Maybe not.
I’ve seen both of sides of that equation surprise me: I’ve seen people move forward at great cost, and halt at seemingly trivial costs. I’ve seen those with little sense of urgency blaze forward, and the most desperate freeze up. It leads me to believe there’s more at play than a simple cost vs. benefits.
I think what really determines whether or not we move forward with a plan is our readiness to face something big: the fear of failure. What if I invest the time and the money and the effort… and it doesn’t work? What if I fail miserably? What if I disappoint myself? What if I disappoint others? Embarrass myself? Frustrate myself? Fear of failure rears it’s ugly voice and says: “It won’t work. It won’t be enough. It won’t last. Don’t try it.”
What holds us back is not our lack of urgency, not the size of the goal and not even the cost, be it time, money or effort. What holds us back is our fear of failing. Look deeply into whatever change you’ve been desperately wanting to make. If you’ve stopped and started, or never started, or started and wavered – peel back some of the layers and look fear right in the eyes. (It often backs down when you do this.) Ask yourself, what do I really have to lose? Maybe some time. Maybe some money. Maybe some ego. But if I succeed, what do I gain? Not just the outcome you want, but that swagger that comes from moving past the boundary lines you’ve drawn for yourself.
If you don’t try it, then you can always blame being in the same place on that – not making any effort. You can always hold the thought in your back of your head “well one day, when I’m ready…. But until then, at least I know why I’m here.” If you try a plan and it doesn’t work, then what? What if you invest the time and the money and the effort and it’s not the right one? THEN WHAT?
A week ago, I didn’t know Karen existed. I thought I had exhausted every behavioral strategy (and medicinal strategy) for treating a dog with separation anxiety. I felt like I had read every book, every article, every perspective on rehabbing an anxious dog. I was wrong.
If the approach you try doesn’t work, it’s not your last hope. It doesn’t mean you are doomed forever to be stuck in the same position you are now. But do you know what will doom you to stay there?
Doing absolutely nothing at all.
And if you stop to think about it, that’s even scarier than feeling. Which means you really have nothing to lose if you move forward.
What's this new "plan" you speak of? Hmm?
