Cognitive Inflexibility Is Like Drowning In A Mirage

Image by author

I was stunned when the hints and nudges started to come from the back of my mind.

“Steph, you’re doing that thing you’ve read about. You’re being all-or-nothing here. You’re holding onto a failing strategy or game plan. You need to jump ship, but you refuse. What’s up, girl? Why can’t you let go and pivot here?”

I looked at myself in the proverbial mirror.

Me? Inflexible? That seemed the most unlikely idea in the world. I’m known for winging it, trying new things, and jumping in. I value being broad-minded and accepting of ideas, people, and circumstances. I’m chillax and curious. I love to learn. I want to consider all angles. I’m totally flexible, aren’t I?

Yes, in some ways. But those aren’t the only ways people can be flexible. There are other ways that we need to internally pivot, and the evidence is starting to show that maybe I don’t. And if so, not fun.

Lately, these hints have wafted through more frequently, probably not because I’m becoming more inflexible, but because now I’ve unearthed a hidden piece of me. I notice it more.

All this time, I’ve valued being broad-minded and accepting, but I’m learning this doesn’t mean I’m not cognitively inflexible. Each time I unearth another instance of wanting to hold tight to how something must go, I chuckle and shake my head in disbelief. I’m amazed at how well we can be hidden in plain sight from ourselves — for decades or even our whole lives.

Funny humans. Funny me.

Cognitive flexibility is a brain-based executive function skill that enables us to pivot to new thinking when needed. We might engage this when plans change, when a lack of time requires a new approach, when new information asks us to reconsider our position, or when burdens arrive that make the status quo no longer viable.

We might be flexible thinkers in one area but not as much in another. Think, home versus work, or personal versus social.

For me, yes, I’m a flexible conceptualizer about the world or people or ideas. But, as I’ve learned lately, oh baby, do I want to stick to some of my routines or plans like an insistent glue.

When I unearth — and admit to myself — how inconsequential some of these plans and routines are, this is when I get a good chuckle. Like one of my dear friends taught me: who cares?!

Case in point. For nearly four years, I’ve put out this blog every week, minus one week, per year. I’ve noticed over the last few years, when I feel like I need to take an additional one-week breather, I harass myself for even considering such a crime. You can’t take TWO weeks off a year! That’s failing, cheating, and slouching! I think there was one time I was able to win over my entrenched self, but otherwise, I pushed on and put out a blog post no matter what. Here’s the deal, though. Of the people who read my blog, not one of them would care if I took another week off.

It took so much convincing and grappling with a new plan that I found it better to grit it out and not ask myself for this favor again.

Oh, but it gets better. More chuckles ahead.

Recently, I decided I needed to edit something on a blog post that hadn't gone out yet. Unfortunately, this was late on a Tuesday night. I saw that I had only two choices. I could either stay up late or wake up early to complete the edits. Why were these my only two choices? Because, for the longest time, I’ve sent out the blog posts on Wednesday at 7:15 am. The first time I sent it out at 7:15 am, it was completely arbitrary. It still is.

But over time, this posting schedule was set in concrete in my mind, and the few times I’ve broken this schedule, there was a felonious battle inside me as I struggled to permit myself to post the blog, hell, an hour later.

Thus, the other day, I either had to stay up late, tired and brain-dead, to fix the blog post, or wake at oh dark thirty to facilitate a prompt and adherent 7:15 am send-off.

No ifs, ands, or buts.

This is when I realized something wasn’t right. This wasn’t in the range of sane reasoning. Not one human being on the whole planet cared when my blog post went out, or if one person did, then 7:15 am was not a do-or-die for them. But in my brain, this case was heading to the Supreme Court of Steph.

After I identified what was going on, I had one of those shocks you have when you discover you’re not who you thought you were this whole time. Then, I giggled. Sometimes, cognitive inflexibility can be quite amusing despite the arduousness and suffering it causes. If you take it with understanding, you might even become better friends with yourself.

I love you, Steph, and all your quirks.

Suddenly, I had a juicy project in front of me — to save myself from myself. More opportunities arose.

I have a goal of walking a certain mileage per week. I printed out a little chart to keep track, motivate, and celebrate. But also, so that I can adhere to it like insistent glue. One especially rainy week became a beautiful opportunity to work on my juicy project. Steph, you don’t have to stick to your mileage goal like it’s the end-all. Something deep within me told me that hitting a certain mileage one week was not the most important thing in the history of the Universe. After double-checking the history of the Universe online, I let it go.

For a while, I’d been going to a weekly writer’s meeting, but now the number of writing meetings has increased to four different events per week. Some weeks, that’s just too many. How hard do you think I had to argue my case to myself to be given the green light to skip the original meeting? You guessed it — but I did it.

Each time I allow myself to pivot to a new plan, I get better at it, and I learn how painless and sensible it is.

All this time, I’ve struggled under the surface of a sea of tight grips on what must be. Many times, they don’t need to be. I wonder how often my frustration, stress, or even depression was because I had no air to breathe, and I was drowning in my insistence. Now that I know pivoting is a thing — and a fabulous one — I can rise to the surface, breathe, and thrive.

Many of my clients talk about these same struggles. This isn’t rare. It’s out there. It’s surmountable, too. The first moment of a pivot is when we can see our resistance to it. This is the invitation to rise to the surface. Every time you do it, I applaud you. Oxygen is awesome.

Cognitive Flexibility and ADHD

---

Have a nice, oxygenated week, friends.

For those who received the email notification of this post, please note that it came into your inbox at 7:21 am. Just to be wild and crazy.