Seeing through versus letting go

How long do you give things a chance?

Where do you stand on seeing your efforts through, versus cutting your losses and moving on?

Because extremes in either direction are dangerous.

On one hand, if we reflexively quit at the mere whiff of resistance or hardship, then we’ll never build any resilience. Habits of impatience and petulance and narrow mindedness will cause us to run any hide before we get to the good part. We’ll rob ourselves of experiences that can contribute to our learning and growth.

On the other hand, if we never recognize the warning signs that a pivot needs to be made, then we will stick with things for way too long. Guilt and prudence and social pressure will convince us to stay the course, despite clear data that we’ve reached the point of diminishing returns. Which means we’ll disconnect from our own needs and desires, resenting the universe for wasting our time and energy.

The ideal litmus test for this sense of discernment is with reading novels.

Be honest. How many pages do you give yourself before you bail? Are you one of those ardent completionist who gives the author the benefit of the doubt, even if it means hate reading a shitty book until the last page? Or do you get about three chapters in, realize you have no idea what the hell is going on in this stupid story, and go find something else to read?

I recently bought a book like the latter example. This was a bestselling novel by an extraordinary author that’s sold millions of copies and has since been adapted into a movie and a television series.

I kid you not, it was instantly unreadable. The pace of this book could easily win a race against a turtle and a snail to see who is slower. I lost track of all the characters after chapter two. Every night it felt like reading a goddamn phone book in bed, where after a few pages, everybody looked the same.

I finally admitted that I would rather eat my own moldy and gangrenous leg and die slowly and miserably of flu before reading another page of this pointless and descriptive rubbish.

Believe me, I tried. I hung in there for close to thirty pages. But there was simply no way I could allow myself to continue reading. The time had come to pay the sanity tax and move on with my life.

This brings us back to the discernment issue.

Most of us back down when such urges arise. Not only with books, but with numerous domains of life. We hang in there long past what’s healthy and enjoyable, safe or useful. Because we want something to show for our investment. We stubbornly refuse to eat the sunk cost because we’re afraid of what others would say about is if we did.

Fucking quitter. Shame. Shame on you and your entire family. Banish thee to the bowels of hell.

That’s legitimately how this dialogue inside our heads plays out. It’s our fear of tribal separation, interpersonal abandonment and societal rejection. If we don’t finish this novel to the end, then we will become a nonperson. Someone who isn’t wanted, respected, or valued by anyone else in the group.

Ultimately, we question our own judgment, making decisions not based on what we really want, but on what we think is appropriate.

Wow, now that’s a loaded word. Appropriate. Meaning, social norms our society has agreed to conform to, since we’ve been told they’re acceptable forms of conduct. The collective expectations about proper behavior for a given identity.

We get scared of offending conventional rules of behavior, so we decide, well, people like us don’t do things like that. We spent good money on that book, and damn it if we’re not going to read every word until we die or it’s done. Quitting early isn’t on brand for me.

I’m reminded of a fascinating paper from the annual review of economics that explained this mindset.

Oxford scientists studied the evolution of social norms, and identified three stages in the life cycle of a norm. First is norm emergence. People who are norm entrepreneurs seek to persuade others of the desirability and appropriateness of certain behaviors. Second comes the norm cascade, which is when a norm obtains broad cultural acceptance. And finally is norm internalization, when a norm acquires a taken for granted quality.

Covid is the most recent case study. Consider how many of our social norms evolved and changed, almost immediately, when we were first stuck indoors, then navigating the pre vaccination pandemic times, and eventually learning to live with the disease.

From our greetings to social activities to social distancing to wearing masks to working in offices to being sick at work, there was a whole new meaning to the word appropriate. And the funny part is, decades from now, we’ll look back at our lives from before the pandemic and almost laugh at how outdated our behavioral will seem in retrospect.

I envision a person in their twenties today telling a story at the dinner table to their grandchildren fifty years from now. Perhaps a memorable moment from the office holiday party when the intern got drunk and puked into the laser printer.

To which the grandchildren look at each other and ask:

Grandpa, what’s a printer? What’s an office? Are you saying that back in your day, adults would ride a train for an hour each way, only to sit in a crowded room to do pointless work they could easily perform from the comfort of their own home? And then they killed trees so they could look at graphs on paper? That’s crazy talk. You old people are so funny.

Point being, we must remember that social norms are relative.

Some things are worth giving a chance, and other things that no longer serve us need to be remedied. Some things are worth seeing through, and other things are worth letting go.

There’s no right or wrong answer, as it differs for each individual. But knowing that you have a choice in the matter is half the battle.

Do you question our own judgment and make decisions on what you think is appropriate, not what you want?