When Did That Become A Rule?

Some of the things we think are simply “how we are” may have started as choices.

Some of us are very good at turning preferences into rules without quite noticing we've done it.

We like to be organised. We prefer to know what's happening. We don't like letting people down. We like to do a good job. We think things through before we make decisions. We keep our promises.

None of this sounds particularly problematic. In fact, most of it sounds like the sort of thing we'd quite like to have said about us.

The interesting bit is what happens when a preference quietly becomes a requirement.

I like to be prepared becomes I need to be prepared.

I want to do a good job becomes I must get this right.

I don't like disappointing people becomes I can't let anyone down.

I prefer to know what's happening becomes I need to know what's happening.

There is a difference between the two, although we don't always notice when we've crossed it.

A preference leaves some room for things to be different. A rule tends to close that room down.

And once something has become a rule, we don't necessarily experience it as a rule at all. It can simply feel like common sense.

I'm the person who always has a plan.

I'm the one people can rely on.

I don't leave things until the last minute.

I don't let people down.

I like things done properly.

These are perfectly respectable characteristics. Some of them are probably reasons other people value us. They may also be things we've worked quite hard to become good at.

Which makes it rather awkward when they start costing us something.

The person who is always prepared may find it very difficult to be spontaneous. The person everyone relies on may become the person who can't say no. The person who does things properly may spend far longer on them than anyone else thinks is necessary. The person who likes to know what's happening may find uncertainty particularly hard to tolerate.

By then, the original reason for the behaviour can be quite difficult to see.

There probably wasn't a moment when you decided that this was how things were going to be. Nobody handed you a document headed Personal Rules for Future Reference.

It tends to happen much more quietly.

Something works.

You do it again.

It works again.

Other people notice and approve. You get good at it. Perhaps it gets you through a difficult period, helps you succeed at work, keeps things calm at home or gives you a sense that you know what you're doing.

Eventually, you stop experiencing it as something you're doing and start experiencing it as who you are.

I'm just like that.

That can be particularly difficult to notice in people who are capable and conscientious, because the rules have often been useful. They may even have helped build the life they have.

Being prepared might have got you through a job where things regularly went wrong. Being the reliable one might have mattered when other people weren't particularly reliable. Being thorough might have been part of why you became good at what you do.

There is nothing wrong with any of that.

The question becomes more interesting when the circumstances change but the rule doesn't.

The job changes. The children grow up. The business is sold. You have more freedom than you once did. The people around you become more capable. There is less to prove and perhaps less that actually needs controlling.

But the internal instructions don't necessarily get updated.

You can find yourself living according to rules that were useful once but are no longer particularly useful now.

And because they are familiar, they can look remarkably like facts.

This is just how I am.

I need to know what is happening.

I can't let people down.

I have to do this properly.

I need to think about it until I'm sure.

That last one interests me particularly.

Thinking is usually regarded as a good thing. We tell people to think things through, consider their options and make informed decisions. And it is good advice, up to a point.

But thinking can become another rule.

I need to understand this completely before I can decide.

I need to be certain before I act.

I need to work out why I feel this way before I can do anything about it.

At some point, thinking stops being something we're using and starts being something we feel we have to do.

The same thing happens with avoiding things.

I don't do confrontation.

I'm not good with uncertainty.

I don't like being the centre of attention.

I'm not someone who asks for help.

These can sound like descriptions of ourselves rather than rules we have gradually learned to follow.

And that matters because descriptions tend to feel fixed.

Rules, at least in theory, can be reconsidered.

I'm not suggesting that we should question everything we do. That would be exhausting, and we'd probably spend so much time analysing our rules that we'd need to invent a new rule about when to stop analysing them.

Nor am I suggesting that every habit or preference has some deep psychological meaning waiting to be uncovered.

Sometimes you just like being organised.

Sometimes you really do care about doing a good job.

Sometimes you are the person who remembers everyone's birthday.

That's fine.

But there is something useful about noticing when I'd rather has quietly become I must, or when I choose to has become I can't.

Because the difference is not really about the behaviour.

It's about choice.

You can still be organised without needing everything organised.

You can care about doing a good job without having to get everything right.

You can be someone people rely on without being available for everything.

You can think carefully without needing to think your way to certainty.

And perhaps you can ask a slightly different question when you notice yourself doing something that feels strangely compulsory.

Not Why am I like this?

Not What's wrong with me?

Just:

When did that become a rule?

You may not know.

You may never know.

But sometimes the question is enough to make you notice that what felt like a fact was actually something you learned to do.

And once you notice that, there may be a little more room than you thought.

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The One Everyone Comes To