Experimenting with Cues

Coffee and a ___________

Pizza and _____________

Chips and _____________

How would you complete the phrases above? When you think of coffee, do you automatically pair it with a doughnut, a cookie or a cigarette? These are common things people associate with drinking a cup of coffee. How about pizza? Is it pizza and beer for you? Diet Coke? Pepsi? How about chips? Do you eat them plain or prefer a dip? 

Each of these common items typically serves as a powerful cue for another. . . . so much so that we often think we can't have one without the other. Something doesn't seem quite right. It's incomplete in some way. The first simply fails to satisfy without the second.

Last week I talked about how my arrival at home in the evening after a long day of work served as a cue for me to beeline to the freezer and help myself to a bowl of Rocky Road ice cream as a way of taking care of myself. The arrival home on Tuesday evening after several hours of providing therapy set in motion a series of steps leading to a heaping bowl of ice cream. I wasn't really all that hungry and I didn't need the extra calories, so it was important I learned to modify this routine to something more healthy. Since I discussed a couple of those options already, this week I thought I'd focus on ways to take command of "cues" for the purpose of promoting positive change.

Let's say you have a problem with procrastinating. You manage most things well, but in certain areas of your life where persistence or self-discipline is key, e.g., keeping the garage clean, working on your taxes, or bringing order to the paperwork in your office, you delay. For one reason or another, the task or activity before you is not your favorite and you often feel overwhelmed, so you delay action. Eventually, when you've passed too many deadlines, eliminated the option of another extension, or incurred the wrath of someone you care about, you forge ahead, complete the task and swear you'll never let things get this bad again . . . except that you usually do. Within months or a year or two, you find yourself right back where you started. . . . drowning in the dust, crashing in the clutter, moping in the mess. 

Your struggle is not at all unlike the yo-yo dieter who has gained and lost a couple hundred pounds, just never all at the same time. They swear they'll keep going, but after 10, 15, or 20 pounds they start slipping back to where they started and at times even regain more. The siren call of the old cues is simply too hard for them to resist.

What are we to do? Are we programmed as powerfully as Pavlov's dog who began salivating once a bell was rung, even if he was not fed? Are we a slave to our impulses? There's bad news here as well as good. Our brains are cunningly conditioned to respond to habit and routine even when those routines may not be all that helpful (that's the bad news). 

In their book, Switch: How to Change When Change is Hard, Chip and Dan Heath liken this phenomena to that of a rider on an elephant, explaining that our brain is "not of one mind" (p. 6).

Our will or intention may know and believe all the reasons we need to change, but that part of our brain is a lot like a rider on an elephant. The Rider stands for the thinking, reasoning part of our brain; the Elephant exemplifies our emotions and instincts. The Heath brothers note that the Rider is only able to make progress riding the Elephant in a particular direction if the Elephant doesn't want to go that way too. In short, although the Elephant may need the Rider to direct his behavior, his power can easily overwhelm what the Rider wants.

     "When change efforts fail, it's usually the Elephant's fault, since the kinds of change we want typically involve short-term sacrifices for long-term payoffs. . . Changes often fail because the Rider simply can't keep the Elephant on the road long enough to reach the destination" (p. 7).

The good news is that we can choose to set up a new path or routine. (Animals can't do that.) The Heath brothers refer to this as shaping or "scripting the path" (p. 18). This means that your thinking brain can choose or shape a path that makes it more likely your "emotions" (or elephant) will go where you want. 

So let's say that you know you need to lose weight, but you find it difficult to overcome the arriving-at-home munchies. You manage to stick with your eating plan all day long, but come 5:30 p.m. when you walk in the door tired, hungry and wondering what to fix for supper and you're a goner. More often than not you snack on chips, salted nuts or other calorie-laden snacks while you get dinner on the table. If you're truly going to shed the pounds, you know you're going to need to master that "elephant."

First, let's start with the cue. At the end of the day, you're likely hungry and tired. Your blood sugar is low and you're feeling the effects of a full day of work, all the time knowing that the demands of the evening still await you. It's almost inevitable you will not quell the hunger pangs and boost your energy the moment you hit the door. And after a long day, well, you figure you've earned it. But what if you tried something different? 

What if you put together a healthy snack and ate it in the car on the drive home? Or maybe you prepare it in the morning so it's waiting for you when you arrive.

What if you had some refreshing cold water to drink as you drove? Or maybe you could treat yourself to a glass of ice tea before you start cooking dinner. In either case you're still responding to the cue or emotion, but you are changing the routine to still satisfy your habit. If you're feeling the need to be nice to yourself before taking care of everyone else, you may decide to page through a magazine or watch a few minutes of television first. Of course, this is all easier if you don't have small children under feet and you have a mate who is willing to be helpful. All the same, changing the routine (or path) associated with the cue is essential. 

And then there's the possibility of using cues to spark new behavior. Let's say that you've made a New Year's resolution to join a fitness center. You've selected a place you feel comfortable that is not far from your workplace or home, and even made it to a class or workout a couple of times. The challenge is getting yourself there on a regular basis. I have that trouble, so I cue myself by packing my gym bag the night before and place it next to the door I will exit in the morning. Sometimes I even put it in the car. When everything I need is close at hand, I find it's a lot easier to take the last step of getting myself to the actual class on time.

Or suppose you want to tackle your out-of-control closets or messy work space. If you're like my Main Man and his "man cave," AKA the shop, sometimes it all just seems like too much. In cases like these, it's important to start small. Choose to clean up the clutter in just one drawer on one shelf. Or, set aside a small but specific amount of time each day (e.g., 20-30 minutes) and work on the task for only that long. Don't allow yourself to go beyond this or you will feel overwhelmed. Allow the time of day (e.g., at 7 p.m. almost every evening) to "cue" you to initiate your new routine (work in the shop or office). Stick to that new behavior for a period of 30 days and you'll be on your way to a new habit--one with the odds of bringing you much closer to the end you have in mind.

I confess I'm not where I want to be, but  I'm making progress. Nowadays, when I think about Monday's at 5 p.m., I also think about water aerobics and the friends I will see there. 

When I consider ways to be nice to myself, I more often think of my favorite tea than a cookie.

I've discovered that my "elephant" responds to a lot of positive cues, even ones not related to food. I bet yours will too.


Changing routines,

Dr. Jennifer Baker