Changing from the Outside In
A few months ago, I read a thought-provoking article that outlined four habits people should quit if they want to live a happier life:
1) Complaining
2) Chasing external validation
3) Dwelling on the past
4) Comparing yourself to others
The author—mindfulness teacher Karo Wanner—wrote: “This morning, you woke up with a choice: to embrace gratitude and joy, or to give in to looking at what’s wrong. It all comes down to whether you can master your mind. I won’t lie—it’s not easy. But learning to take control of your thoughts and emotions is the key to living a life filled with more joy.”
The article has stayed with me all this time, sparking ongoing reflection and experimentation. It makes me think of my father, whose quest to heal and reclaim his authentic nature led him to identify every habit that caused him to suffer or stay small, and then invent ways to break them. I was able to witness firsthand how liberating himself from these habits allowed him to truly enjoy his life. When I think about my dad, I see a joyous, buoyant man with sparkling eyes who freely laughed, danced, and played.
Myra’s father, Mendek Rubin, circa 1978
While I resonate with Karo’s entire list of habits and recognize their impact in my own life, I find myself questioning her approach. The assertion that we can overcome these entrenched habits by “taking control of our thoughts and emotions” could lead to unhealthy emotional repression and an aggressive attitude toward ourselves. I also question whether any habit-breaking strategy can be effective in the long-term if we fail to examine and heal the deep-rooted underlying wounds and beliefs that fuel those patterns.
That said, I’ve directly experienced how simply changing my outer behavior can dramatically shift my thoughts and emotions.
In a blog last December, I shared how I thought of myself as a generous person, but not selflessly generous—I always made sure baristas were watching when I placed money in their tip jar. I assumed this habit stemmed from a long-standing need for external validation, shaped in childhood by trying to earn love by perennially trying to be a praise-worthy “good girl.”
So for two weeks, I committed to tipping only when no one was watching. That first time took real effort—like turning a huge ship with heavy momentum toward a completely different direction. But to my surprise, it quickly became easy and even enjoyable. No longer dependent on someone else’s acknowledgment, the good feelings that accompanied generosity were richer, more intimate, and longer-lasting. Each time I acted differently, the old conditioning lost a little power. Changing my behavior became a surprisingly efficient way to update my emotional operating system.
It turns out that this observation is consistent with Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT), which sees our thoughts, emotions, and behaviors as so deeply interconnected that a shift in any one of these areas influences the other. This means that acting differently can lead to changes in how we think and feel.
Cognitive Behavioral Triangle
CBT also explains how long-standing patterns, like seeking external validation, are often maintained through reinforcing loops. A behavior (trying to make sure every tip is noticed) strengthens a belief (“I need others to affirm me”), which shapes future behavior. But when we interrupt that loop by acting differently, we begin to send new signals to our brain, which forms new neural pathways over time.
I reached out to mindfulness teacher and therapist, Katie Dutcher, to see what insights she had to share about this topic. She suggested treating each of these habits as “mindfulness bells”—invitations to pause, reflect, and get curious.
“For example,” Katie says, “When we notice ourselves looking for outside validation, we can pause, shift our gaze inward for some self-exploration by asking ourselves, ‘What am I looking for? Why do I care so much about what this person thinks about me? What do I think about me?’ If we’re complaining, we might ask ourselves, ‘Am I simply dwelling on the negative, or am I venting because I’ve been overextending myself? Do I need to set better boundaries?’”
Katie explains that when we pause to pay attention to our habitual patterns, we create the space to respond differently—or to make an entirely new choice. “Positive change begins with becoming aware of what’s happening right now. We can’t shift our behavior without first recognizing what we’re doing and reflecting on whether it’s truly serving us. Our power to change always resides in the present moment.”
Katie Dutcher
In a recent Substack newsletter, spiritual teacher Yung Pueblo also shared his wisdom on this topic:
When it comes to inner work, you have to remember that the mind is largely shaped by repetition. The behaviors that you have repeated in the past are more than likely to appear in your present. If you want to open a new chapter in how your mind feels and how you show up in everyday life, then you have to focus on choosing new behaviors that are more aligned with who you are becoming.
For example, choosing to slow down and reflect instead of reacting impulsively is something that needs to be repeated with consistency for it to become your new default. Just like any form of training, it can feel clumsy when it is new, but over time you will fully adopt this intentional way of being. Choosing the right action in one moment is valuable, but choosing the right action consistently is life changing.
Right now, I’m focusing on breaking the first habit on Karo’s list—complaining—because it negatively impacts both me and the people I’m closest to.
I’ve become more aware of my tendency to complain since I broke my shoulder a few months ago. My son happened to be visiting at the time, and shortly afterward he said, “I’m surprised you’re not complaining more than usual.” Misunderstanding him, I beamed with pride, thinking he meant I was being admirably stoic. “No, Mom” he clarified, “I said I’m surprised you're not complaining more than usual.”
My son’s comment sparked my curiosity. Why do I complain so much when I’m generally an upbeat person who is aware of—and very grateful for—the many blessings in my life?
I began to notice that my complaints are often centered around physical issues—a stiff neck, headache, lack of sleep because I was woken up by one of our dogs. Looking deeper, I could see how this pattern was shaped and perpetually reinforced by my naturally chatty personality, inherited ancestral fears (the worry that acknowledging good fortune will jinx it and catastrophe will strike), my mother’s example (she was a champion complainer), as well as a lifetime of pushing through discomfort while complaining served as a pressure release.
I’m now midway through a two-week commitment to cease all complaining. The first day was especially difficult; meeting my goal with more ease required me to change some upstream behaviors. One small (but revolutionary) example: instead of complaining about how drained I felt after a hectic morning, I simply took a little time to lie down and rest.
Also, not automatically discharging my discomfort through words has helped me realize I now know a lot of ways to soothe myself and release stress and aggravation—tools (many from qigong) that I didn’t have when I was younger. It invites me into a more intimate, conscious relationship with my inner experience.
The most wonderful surprise so far is that just after a few consecutive days of not complaining, I’m finding fewer things to complain about. Simply by interrupting my pattern of verbalizing problems, less of them seem to be manifesting.
Myra’s children playing in the sand, circa 1994
The next pattern I plan to tackle straddles all four habits: I want to overcome being highly self-consciousness and self-critical of myself during bathing suit season this summer. I anticipate this to be a tremendously challenging pattern to shift, since I’ve struggled with body image-related insecurities since I was a pre-teen.
After my accident, I promised myself to be grateful to my body for all that it does, instead of disparaging it for the ways it fails to measure up to society’s superficial ideals. I hope to walk in my father’s footsteps, and instead of wasting my life worrying about how I look or what anyone thinks, enjoy every minute in the sand, sun and water with my grandchildren. I’ll let you know how it goes!
