Ask Helen: a reader question about "the right time"

Dear Helen,

How do you know when it's the right time to "push through" and "keep going," versus when it's actually the right time to stop doing, deeply re-assess your commitments, and pull back? And also, maybe you have some good advice on how to deal with commitments. I think of them as being set in stone—but, in reality, I think most things can be changed, adjusted, stepped away from, etc. (And I want to work on my mindset there.)

Thank you!
Stop or Go

Dear Stop or Go,

I don't think you actually have to manage any of this!

You think you do—that you have to know about a thing called "the right time" and that there could be signs or signals that tell you what to do or not do, accordingly—but that's all a layer of thought.

What does "the right time" even mean? What is it even made of?

Who could say, one way or the other, what "the right time" is?

Is it future you, looking back, and reviewing whether or not it was, in fact, "the right time" to do this or that?

Is it some authority figure who will let you know if you guessed correctly and chose the right action at "the right time"?

You see how this doesn't really hold up to questioning, yeah?

But this is what a mind does.

A mind pulls that sense of "knowing" out of context and makes it a capital-T Thing: a set of operating instructions that you need to decipher, learn, and follow from here on out. That's the layer of thought that I'm talking about.

Let's talk about it less abstractly for a moment.

Say you're running a marathon. (I've never run a marathon, but this is the first thing that popped into my head.)

How do you know when it's the right time to push through and keep going, versus when it's actually the right time to stop running, deeply re-assess your commitment to the race, and possibly change tack altogether?

First of all, is this idea of "the right time" something you actually need to know? Can you even know it? And what does it mean? Could there actually be a wrong time to stop?

It seems most likely that your body kind of decides for you; a decision gets made, without your mind's interference (though your mind will take credit for it, because that's what minds do), and you find yourself either pushing through or pulling back.

Secondly, doesn't it strike you as a little...redundant? I guess what I mean is, the thinking is pretty excessive when you consider the fact that the body has probably already reached a decision (mind you, a decision that an active, overly involved mind is probably trying to talk you into or out of).

So, here's the thing. By the time you stop to ask the question, "Is it the right time for me to push through or pull back?" I'm pretty sure you already "know" that you want to pull back.

You "know" it in the deepest sense—a sense that's probably beyond verbalization or reasoning or logic or "right timing."

It doesn't need to match up with some rubric that you've mentally established to assess whether or not it's "the right time" for you to act on your changing feelings.

It doesn't need to make sense to that part (or any part) or you. It can just be an inkling of desire to be done. To bow out.

And you can listen to that inkling! Without deeply reassessing anything!

I hope this helps.

Love,
Helen

Ask Helen: a reader question about poor self-concept

Dear Helen,

If I’m (really very) self-reflective and aware, how can my self-concept be so poor (outrageously different from what others tell me about myself)? I’m doing a lot of “the work”, but I’m still struggling to believe the (good) things they say about me. It’s hard to identify with them. Is there a trick?!

Thank you!
Down on Myself

Dear Down on Myself,

What if I told you your poor self-concept is nothing more than a habit?

It's something that served you at some point, probably when you were very young and before you had a lot of other ways of coping—but it has since ceased to be useful. In fact, it's more hurtful than anything.

What if your inability to identify with praise you're given means nothing about you?

You're not broken or damaged; there isn't anything to "work" on. You just have an old habit that's kicking around, playing some old tapes in your head—tapes that you don't even necessarily believe anymore.

The thing about habituated thinking is that it's efficient. Our minds love being efficient. Really, they can't help but be efficient; it's the nature of a mind.

So, at some point, it made sense to think poorly of yourself. Maybe it made sense to put yourself down or to not get too big of an ego or to deflect compliments, etc. It made sense to do that because you didn't know what else to do and probably there was some solid cultural conditioning floating around that encouraged this way of being.

Thinking poorly of yourself helped you to not be hurt or to feel hard, painful things; it helped you to secure love; it helped you to stay in good graces with people you depended on. Who knows exactly. But it made sense, so you did it.

What it sounds like you're coming up against now is that it no longer makes sense.

And yet, you're still doing it.

You get a compliment and your mind has an autopilot response system in place.

Nah, it says. They don't know who I really am. I'm not actually worthy/good/special.

It's not that you really think this (though I bet it feels like you do!).

And it's (obviously) not that this is even remotely true.

It's that you've thought it a million times before now, in situations just like this.

You see how it's simply a matter of programming, right?

How could you not think these shitty-self thoughts when they've been your mind's go-to for ages?

Your mind is running on old, easy information that doesn't rock the boat. It's beautifully efficient and tragically untrue.

So, what do you do now that you know it's just a habit?

You do, what I like to call, the Ope, there's that thought again!

(I don't think I ever actually said "ope" before moving to the midwest, but it's such a handy little word. Not quite so definitively apologetic as "oops," and not as excitable as "ahhhh!" It's the perfect amount of surprise, with an innocent little shoulder shrug thrown in for good measure. I think I need this t-shirt.)

Basically, you acknowledge the habitual thought each and every time it comes up.

Ope, there's that thought again! My mind sure likes to trot that one out in these sorts of situations.

It's a way of reminding yourself that there's no problem here; your mind has all sorts of thoughts floating through it at any given time, and this one just happens to be an oldie that's been given a lot of airtime (i.e. attention, "work," concern, belief), historically.

I mean it when I say this is all you have to do.

Recognize the habitual, impersonal nature of the thought.

Do a little mental shoulder shrug.

And carry on.

I hope this helps!

Love,
Helen

Is it okay not to be intentional?

Here we are, in the last month and last week of 2024.

Folks are perusing their Google Photos recap, sharing what's on their Spotify Wrapped, penning resolutions or intentions, choosing a word of the year, and so on. There are photo collages and montages, vision boards and quests.

It's a very particular kind of energy that swirls at the end of a calendar year, huh?

Lots of simultaneous summarizing and planning. Reflection and preparation.

All of which has inspired a question I'd like to tackle today:

Is it okay not to be intentional?

It's a popular idea, this notion of being intentional, and it's definitely become quite the buzzword in personal development circles.

But what does it even mean?

'Intentional' is just a concept. It's a label that humans have slapped on a set of behaviors and thoughts, and it basically means there's an extra layer of thinking, ruminating, or noodling going on.

It seems to suggest this extra layer has some power or influence to it, or, at the very least, it has some special energy baked into it—and that's regarded as better than behaviors and thoughts that arise without as much thoughtfulness behind them.

Folks tend to believe that living with intention means that, more often than not, they're living a life of their choosing. They followed the paths they intended to follow and make the decisions they intended to make. But I don't know that that's true.

Does the act of having intentions actually control anything or make anything happen?

I don't see how it could.

From where I sit, we don't really know why some things happen and others don't, regardless of intentionality.

Don't get me wrong, having intentions might feel good sometimes. It might feel responsible, wise, mature, or like we're being thoughtful in a really powerful way. It might feel like having a plan or voicing a desire. It might feel like we're speaking into existence some thing we really want for our lives.

Even still, you can be intentional, and plenty of things will happen that you never intended to have happen. The same goes with not being intentional; stuff will happen regardless. Intentions don't affect the outcome. I don't see how they could.

They might affect your perception of the outcome. Your feeling of agency over the outcome. But can they actually change the outcome? It doesn't seem to work like that, but go ahead and look for yourself. Do you think you controlled an outcome by having an intention ahead of time?

If it helps you to set intentions (for the new year or at anytime), go for it.

If it feels like something you should do, something you're supposed to do in order to get more out of life, pause for a moment.

That sounds like an unnecessary amount of work.

What if the right things, the right 'intentions,' if you want to call them that, will find you? (What if the exact right next step has been finding you this whole time, intentions or not?)

What if it's less about planning what you want to go after...and more about following the next thing that gives you that indescribable juicy feeling? That buzz of energy?

Being 'intentional' might start to look a bit like living in your head instead of living in the world, huh?

So, hold the idea of intentions very lightly. They're not essential. Far from it.

Your inner compass is on all the time. Fresh, new thought is occurring to you all the time. You don't need anything you don't already have, including intentions.

What do you think?

Does the perspective I've shared change anything for you? What do you notice when you consider letting go of all the intention-setting for the year ahead?

Drop a comment below and let's discuss. (I always reply to your comments, though Squarespace doesn't seem to ping you after I've done so 🤔, so be sure to check back here after a few days.)

How do decisions get made, anyway?

Something I'm thinking a lot about lately is decision-making.

I've worked with a number of clients around this theme, but it also isn't an area where I feel at all like I have "expertise" or a system. (It should be noted that I'm not actually a believer in true "expertise" generally, so I'm not being self-deprecating here!) More like I've landed on a new insight about how decisions get made, and it's a whole lot different than what I spent the first 40 years of my life believing.

Maybe this will ring true for you.

Okay, so, here's how I see it now:

The only hard part about decisions is thinking you have to make them.

What does that even mean, right? 😂

Well, we can all conjure up plenty of times when decisions were seemingly made without the pro/con lists or consulting a million friends and relations, right?

Times when something beyond us guided us. A feeling. An instinct. Some kind of drive or deep, inner knowing.

Or maybe certain decisions didn't even feel like decisions because the answer or next step seemed so obvious. As if it pre-existed thought.

What we call it might vary, but the concept is the same: Some decisions unfold with a kind of effortlessness. The way forward is self-evident. There's a certain degree of common sense operating within us, and that results in a seamless experience of something being decided.

In these instances, there isn't a whole lot of thinking and conscious noodling happening.

There's just...flow. Movement. Life continuing to develop.

We'll start with an inane example. Going to get yourself a drink of water when you feel thirsty. No real decision gets made. You simply get up and fill your water glass.

Occasionally, the mind jumps in and adds some narration via thought: Wait until this episode is over, if you're watching a show. Or, when you remember you recently went grocery shopping: Water or watermelon Poppi? But, by and large, there's a thoughtless smoothness to the experience of getting yourself a beverage. Same goes for lifting it to your lips and taking a sip. You don't debate it or analyze it. You don't even seem to make the decision to do it. It just gets done.

This holds true even with bigger stuff.

Whether or not to accept a job offer or move to a new city, to have children or to buy a house. It sure feels like there's more riding on these decisions! And certainly there might be more thought narrating the experience of deciding these things. But these decisions just get done, all the same.

Our minds come in and take credit for them, but really, the actual decisions happen in a place that exists beyond thought. The best name I've got for that place is "flow," but a word can only point us in a direction; it can't really capture what we're talking about here.

This is where you might have to relax your focus a little, to understand what I'm getting at, because it gets (more) nebulous.

A decision appears to be a thing we make happen. It seems solid and looks real. Society reinforces this understanding. You might be sitting there, thinking, Decisions are real, Helen! I have proof! And I believe you. I'm sure your mind has very compelling proof. Minds are good at that.

But bear with me a second and see if you can briefly entertain something different.

How I've come to see it is: When something needs to be decided, a decision gets made. Thought is simply a layer over the top of an event that’s otherwise occurring, quite naturally, on its own. It just happens to be the layer that we see most readily (and that society tells us we have to manage), so it looks essential to the process.

When a particular decision feels intractable, it's a sign that we're mired in a ton of thinking about the situation—not a sign that the decision, itself, is difficult to arrive at.

From a young age, we're conditioned to believe that we steer our lives. We're responsible for "making the right decisions" to get the outcomes we want. We're conditioned to believe we have to "think things through" before a decision gets made, and so, that's what we do. We marinate, we hem and haw, we ask the people close to us to weigh in.

That layer of thought gets thicker and thicker, and if the "correct" decision still isn't clear to us, we believe we need to think harder and consider more. It's like we're straining to be fortune tellers! We want more, more, more information about the as-yet-unknown future before we're willing to make a move.

But what happens if we release all that? If we allow the thinking to settle down on its own, the mind to get quiet and still.

I don't know about you, but I've found time and time again that a decision...just...sort of...happens. Clarity emerges (turns out it was there the whole time, buried underneath my thinking) and I do what needs to be done, whatever occurs to me to do, without all the noise of thought.

What do you think?

Tell me what's coming up for you. What kind of relationship do you have with decision-making? Do you think of yourself as indecisive? Are you a pro/con list-maker? Perhaps you survey everyone you know to find out what they would do if they were in your position?

Does the perspective I've shared change anything for you? What do you notice when you tap into that place that precedes thought?

Drop a comment below and let's discuss. (I always reply to your comments, though Squarespace doesn't seem to ping you after I've done so 🤔, so be sure to check back here after a few days.)

Answer Helen: readers reply to an Ask Helen about controlling our feelings

Wow! Last month's newsletter sparked some good conversation amidst a whole slew of unsubscribes. I'm laughingly referring to it as my most controversial Ask Helen to date! 😂

Click here if you missed it and want to get up to speed.

In lieu of a new topic, I'd like to dig a little deeper into what I shared last month.

Also, it seems worth saying: This is all just philosophical conversation. There isn't a right answer. Who could even say for sure how choice works—if we choose our feelings and reactions or not. I'm merely giving you a peek into what it looks like to me, as someone who's really interested in exploring this kind of stuff. You might have a different opinion, which is fantastic; I'm always curious to hear what you think, even and especially if it differs from what I think.

Anyway, a good place to start today is with some of the feedback I got from readers.

Before unsubscribing, one reader wrote me the following:

“All humans can learn and become better. Dictionaries are free to use in any library, there you look up words, the pronunciation, and the various meanings for each word. Pencil and paper & take notes, learn!”

They were referring to this part of last month's newsletter:

“Let’s say someone mispronounces a word. It’s not a mistake that they feel embarrassed about or even correct themselves over; more like they think this mispronunciation is actually how the word is supposed to be pronounced.

We could say the person who mispronounces the word is in control of how they pronounce it, right?

But that doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense, because a person can only pronounce a word in the way that occurs to them. They don’t choose to mispronounce it, just as they don’t actually choose a pronunciation to begin with. They just go ahead and say the word in the way that occurs to them, maybe in the way they’ve said it in their mind when they’ve read the word on paper.

The same could be said for any feeling or reaction of ours.”

Here's what I wrote back to the reader:

“Thanks for your reply. I totally agree! And it will absolutely occur to some people to look up the word, if they suspect they’ve been mispronouncing it. But if they have no idea, it likely won’t occur to them—until/unless someone points it out.

All I’m saying is, we can only ever do what occurs to us. It’s less about choice and more about newfound awareness and insight.

The same goes for feelings/reactions. It will absolutely occur to some people to get the help/resources they need to shift their feelings/reactions, if they suspect that how they’re currently experiencing life isn’t working great for them. But none of us can do what doesn’t occur to us. It’s not a matter of choice. Do you see what I mean?”

I guess I'd take that even a step further and say this: We educate ourselves when it occurs to us to do so. Sometimes we deeply desire to become "better" (whatever that means), so we set about finding ways to "improve" ourselves (again, these are pretty judgmental words to use, but I'm sure you know what I'm getting at).

At no point was I or am I suggesting that humans can't learn or can't become better. I'm simply saying that the thought has to occur to us in order for us to do so.

Let's return to my mispronunciation analogy.

Imagine English isn't my first language. For the most part, I speak it pretty well, though I'm really keen to nail the pronunciation of a word I struggle with (I know I struggle with it because native speakers have a hard time understanding me when I say it and/or have gently corrected me before).

I might go to the library, pick up a dictionary, look up the word, and practice pronouncing it. I might google the word and find a YouTube video wherein I can actually hear a person pronouncing it. I might ask a native speaker for help.

I'm capable of learning, yes! And, the thought has occurred to me to learn more; the thought has occurred to me that the way I'm saying the word 1. isn't correct, 2. is making me difficult to understand, and 3. could be improved upon. It occurs to me to use a resource or two to land on the correct pronunciation of the word.

Someone else who mispronounces a word might never have the thought, Hmm, I'd like to make sure I'm saying this word correctly. Is this person choosing to stay ignorant? Can we say with certainty that a choice is being made here, or might it be more accurate to say that the person is quite simply oblivious? And innocently so. There can't be a choice where there isn't a lightbulb moment of insight.

Later, I received a really thoughtful comment on the blog post, itself. This one is from my cousin, Debbie:

“I’ve seen these messages around too, however I took choosing how one reacts not to mean choosing how you feel about it, but rather what you do about it. You can feel upset with a situation, but do you want to actively sit in that feeling, or do you want to get up and do the next thing in your day, or go for a walk? Someone at work could really make you angry, but do you react by being passive aggressive or choose a different approach?”

This response makes a ton of sense to me.

In fact, I shared this exact perspective when I first considered the idea of choosing our feelings and reactions. This is what made sense to me. That people always chose how they behaved, how they responded, what came out of their mouths. That people chose to be kind or unkind, forgiving or grudge-holding, better or bitter, and so on.

But at some point recently, I started digging around a bit more and began to see 'choice' differently.

Here's how I responded:

“Great points, Debbie! (And thanks for taking the time to articulate that.)

I wonder, though, if this interpretation really changes anything. I mean, yeah, we can say that someone who actively stews in a negative feeling, pouting or being snarky or whatever, is choosing to react that way—instead of, say, going for a walk or taking a time-out. We can say that someone who’s passive aggressive to an annoying co-worker is choosing that negative behavior. It sure looks like they’re choosing it, right? Especially because there are other options available to them. Or, at least it looks that way to us.

But I guess I’m just not convinced it’s a choice. ‘Choice’ kind of implies that someone weighed their options and deliberately selected one. And sure, that happens sometimes, when it occurs to someone that they want to break a pattern of behavior/reactivity. Absolutely, yes. But besides that, I don’t think anyone’s deliberately selecting anything. I think we’re all just reacting in the ways that occur to us. On some level (or levels), it makes the most sense to us to react in this way or that, regardless of what might be a “better choice”—retrospectively, of course.

I think ‘choice’ and ‘choosing’ make it seem like there’s a bunch more higher-level, thoughtful consideration happening than what’s going on in reality. It also implies that we can somehow go against our natural impulses—which, sure, we can when it occurs to us to do so...but not when it doesn’t.

Does this make sense?

I love philosophizing about this stuff! And it’s even more fun with company. 😉 Feel free to disagree and argue back! I think this is how we all come to understand a bit more about the nature of humanity.”

And now that I'm rereading my reply to Debbie, I'm seeing a place where I should probably elaborate.

When I use the phrase "a bunch more higher-level, thoughtful consideration," I don't mean to imply that such consideration can't happen or never happens. Plenty of people make a conscious effort to choose reactions that are less destructive, or to talk themselves into feeling differently about some situation—because such techniques have occurred to them.

But even then, I don't see it as control. I see it as maybe a combination of insight and good fortune; not as something over which they have limitless agency.

So, I'm curious to know what all of this looks like for you. Do you feel as though you always choose how to think about something, how to feel about it, how you respond to it? Can you think of a time or times when, perhaps, you didn't feel like a choice was being made?

Share in the comments below. I always love hearing from you, whether or not you agree with me!