The Gap Between Knowing What To Do, and Actually Doing It

 The Gap Between Knowing What To Do, and Actually Doing It

This quote, which a quick google search attributes to just about every ancient philosopher, is scientifically false, or at least incomplete. That doesn’t mean it isn’t useful, but we should understand the nuances that come with it.

I mean, how many things are you NOT doing that you know you should do? How much healthier should you be eating? How much more exercise should you be getting? How much less time should you be spending on screens? And how much less should you be judging people that aren’t doing what they should be doing?

To know, and not to do, is to have various impediments in life which have nothing to do with character, motivation, or knowledge. (Or at least, I don’t believe we have the right to judge these factors for others, and do a poor job judging ourselves.)

Whenever I’ve explored gaps between someone’s beliefs in what would help them, and the inability to act on them, I’ve always found a reasonable explanation. These are not just excuses. They deserve compassion and consideration (though not necessarily agreement). A lot of people aren’t even aware of some of the forces holding them back. Some examples:

“I know I should take my medicine, but I just keep forgetting.”

I can’t always take these kind of statements at face value. I know this person has been struggling with manic episodes for YEARS. They are always thinking about it, so I KNOW this isn’t a matter of forgetting (or that the “forgetting” serves a purpose). Further exploration reveals that part of them wants to forgo the meds and enter a mania because it’s the only time they don’t feel suicidal. The consequences of mania can be disastrous, but the offer of relief from excruciating emotional pain (that could literally kill you) is not something to be critical of.

Or, I might learn that a side effect of this medicine is weight gain. This teenager can’t bear to gain 10-15 lbs, even if it meant more manageable anxiety, because her mother would notice and comment on it, triggering the mountain of trauma already built up in that relationship, leading to panic. Maybe taking the pill actually isn’t a great idea until we deal with the body shame culture of the family?

“My liver is failing. I know I should quit drinking, but I just don’t have the motivation.”

Again, this isn’t an issue of motivation. This guy knows this habit will kill him, and his family will suffer more than they already have. Further work uncovers the deep hopelessness this man feels, as he has tried to quit many times in the past, but the trauma being sexually abused as a child (which men can rarely talk about safely) always arises and incapacitates him if he isn’t buzzed to some degree. He is stuck, and dissociates from the hopelessness to numb the pain, pretending he isn’t motivated.

This last one is for my religious friends:

“I believe in the religion, but the church thing isn’t for me.”

I can’t tell you how many people pass judgments on statements like this. It sounds like a lazy statement, a sort of “I don’t really care” feeling. But again, I have always found WAY more behind statements like this. And, even if someone believed in and actually felt a calm dislike for church, that would not be justification for judging.

What I usually find are deep associations of pain with certain religious behaviors: “My mom would make me feel like a damned soul if I showed up late to church” or “My dad freaked out when I wore a blue shirt” or “My bishop responded to my pornography relapse by lecturing me and telling my parents, who lectured me again, which triggered another relapse.”

These are just mild examples of things I’ve heard, but they demonstrate how someone would have a hard time feeling safe at a place thought of as a hospital for sinners. If you incur more trauma than healing at church, it makes sense that you’d want to take space.

Some might be thinking, “Then why don’t they just work through those issues?”.

We’ll, again, for the same reasons that you aren’t working on your issues.

Oh wait. You say you ARE working on your issues? You’re doing the best you can, and change can be really hard and slow and nonlinear? And that people making judgments on your progress or comparing your experience to theirs doesn’t help? That these are personal issues that you don’t want other people taking responsibility for?

Oh ok. That makes sense. I can tell that you’re having a hard time with the fact that you KNOW and can’t DO right now. I’d love to sit with you in your struggle, and offer whatever I can to help you, but not impose my help, or my beliefs in what will help you.

To Sum Up:

-We have no right to judge the internal experience of others, even if they try to attribute their struggles to character flaws. Someone judging themselves harshly does not give us the right to judge.

-There are many forces at play keeping us from doing what we want. People literally go to therapists and doctors to find out what some of them are. I have never encountered “badness” or “laziness” as an explanation after effective exploration with someone. Compassion allows someone to safely explore what those forces really are.

-People are in charge of their own struggles. They may involve you, friends, family, or God, on their own terms. It is not your job to push anyone. It may be your job to meet them where they are at, show love, and leave invitations. But pushing tends to create a net loss. Let people be responsible for themselves, and be responsible for yourself (and set appropriate boundaries if necessary).