I recently called a friend to talk with her about a choice I needed to make. I've learned through the program of recovery how valuable perspective beyond my own helps assure I’ll do the next right thing.
However there are times, like this one, when I already know what I want to do yet I go through the motions anyway.
Sure enough things didn't pan out the way I had wanted. When I ran into my friend, I had to fess up about the result. This is pretty much how that conversation went:
FRIEND: So how did everything work out?
ME: The outcome wasn't so great. I went ahead with my original idea.
FRIEND: I thought you agreed to go in the other direction.
ME: Well yes, but...
What I said after the word but proved irrelevant because the quasi-rationale I offered served no other purpose than to weakly justify why I did what I did.
To note, this is not new behavior for me. Several years ago I treated myself to an Anderson Center renewal weekend. The focus was deep study of Steps 4-9. The group was small but the conversations were robust.
A man I highly respect for his acute insight and interesting perspective led one of the more powerful sessions. When I had an opportunity to share a bit about myself, this man I admired interrupted me mid-sentence and asked I stop talking, stand up and begin again.
As a slow-to-change perfectionist, I stood up, took a deep breath and launched back into my story. After uttering about four sentences, he stopped me again. This time he asked I take three physical steps backward.
Admittedly I began to wonder if this guy wasn't actually nuts and not such a genius after all. However out of respect I did what he asked. I took three steps back and waited for my next instruction. When there was nothing but silence I turned to face the man I questioned and saw him smiling back at me. He took a deep breath and said, “Alison, many times in your story you reference saying "yes but" when others were trying to help you. What happened when you said those words was you moved away from what the universe was pulling you toward.”
Yep, I was right. This guy is a genius.
Asking me to take three steps back was actually in reference to Step 3. When I would say, “Yes but…” I was actually taking my will back when God’s will was right in front of me.
Thinking back when I was actively drinking, many people feared for my life as they watched my actions become dangerously unhealthy. Countless times they gently (or not so gently) suggested I consider sobriety. My response was often something like “Well maybe, but I’m under so much stress at work and a few drinks takes the edge off”, or “I guess, but at least I don’t drink as much as some other people.”
Eventually I paid more attention to the words I needed to hear and got sober.
A few years later when the behaviors associated with an eating disorder escalated, those same people expressed concern. Once again I found myself in the throes of the "Yes, but...” verbal dance, clutching to the hope whatever I cobbled together in the latter part of that statement would somehow convince others I didn't need help. I said things like, “I know I should take a break for lunch, but I’m swamped with work and don’t have time” or “I typically eat more for dinner, but I had a big lunch.”
When I finally realized I could no longer convince anyone, including myself, why denying my body proper nutrition made sense, I sought the help I needed.
After a great deal of time reviewing my past I've come to understand anything I said after the word but kept me stuck in a complicated and dangerous web of deception, lies and isolation.
I'm not alone.
Very often people try desperately to make sense of what they'd rather resist. The "yes, but..." crossroad phrase is said to offset small changes needing to be made and sometimes when faced with critical, heartfelt decisions.
One such experience took place when by brother was kept alive by machines after he suffered a heart attack and subsequent brain injury. In a closed-door meeting, several highly acclaimed doctors suggested our family consider his quality of life if he remained in that state. Out of fear and clinging to any vestige of hope, most of the family responded, “I understand, but what if you tried something else?" Looking back there was a strong belief whatever followed but would be a viable reason to avoid the kind of decision no one wants to make.
Ultimately we each heard our own inner voice of reason, yielding to enough acceptance of the situation to simply say, “I understand." No further words were necessary.
I suppose that’s the bottom line. When I find myself using the some variation of the phrase “Well yes, but”, I’m actually trying to justify why I don’t want to do, think, or say what’s rational, reasonable, and sound.
Perhaps you've experienced this very same thing or maybe you’re thinking, “She might be right, but…”
A Moment to Breathe…
Think about the last time you found yourself trying to justify questioned behavior. Did the "Yes, but ..." statement find a way into your conversation? Can you now recognize the words said prior could have led to a better choice? Leave a comment below.