You know how you keep making the same mistakes over and over again, even though you know it’s the wrong choice? Freud called this the repetition compulsion: we’re replaying some past conflict in an attempt to master it. These days neuroscientists talk about well-worn neural pathways in our brains that were formed early in life. And as Robert Frost pointed out, we tend to take the road that’s more travelled by.
No matter what theory you use to explain it, there’s no question that it happens. And while it’s possible to break these patterns, it takes a lot of effort to do so.
So the reason I’ve started this post on making the same mistakes over and over again is that I found out that my second article was also rejected for publication. I’m not used to failing. And this is failing at giving high school kids advice on what to do about their budding relationships. So as a clinical psychologist, it was a bit more of a blow than usual. Even though I don’t work with adolescents.
And even though, with a Ph.D., you are used to giving nuanced answers based on research and are told never to simplify even the most obvious answer with something like, yes, the answer is both nature and nurture play a role in human behavior at about equal rates. So it’s hard for me to oversimplify relationship advice and say yes, leave that jerk. He’s obviously a loser. Why don’t you know that already?
Unlike with the first rejection, when I was willing to put in 10 hours revising that paper until I could give them the trite answer they were looking for, this time, instead of rushing to eradicate this blemish on my record, I decided to do nothing.
And then I thought about how many hours I’ve spent writing these dumbed down relationship articles for less than minimum wage. Ordinarily I would keep trying to prove that I can do it, I can give them what they want. And I could master the art of answering questions like, “What do you do if your boyfriend is mean?” Or “What’s a cute text I could send to a shy girl to let her know that I like her?” But why? It’s torturous for me to give such superficial advice. To use my wisdom to answer questions that aren’t that deep.
Apparently, this is one of the reasons why neurodivergent people don’t like small talk.
So I made an unprecedented decision: I decided to cut my losses right away. Me, the person who climbs psychological mountains for fun, knits complicated patterns like dresses, and finishes tennis matches when I’m having an asthma attack rather than retire.
I finally get what they mean by the phrase “pick your battles.” I always thought it just referred to being selective about the things that you want to argue about. Now I understand that it means that you have to save your energy for the things that are worth fighting for. Dying for, even. Not every hill is worth dying on. Especially if you only die once.
Although I’m not sure I believe you only die once. But still. You probably don’t get many times. And I’m not going to die on the hill of figuring out what a cute text is to send to a shy girl to let her know that some equally shy guy likes her.
I have always spent my energy fighting for other people–my friends, my family, my clients, my romantic partners, random people who ask me for advice when they find out I’m a psychologist. For the first time in my life, I’ve decided that I’m worth fighting for. So I’m just going to focus on what’s best for me and say, message received. Please don’t send me any more articles.
