Sunk

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I love learning about how our brains operate and how they often fool us. We tend to think of ourselves as rational creatures when the reality is often anything but. There are many fallacies that we fall prey to, but there is one in particular that plays a dominant role in relationships.

The sunk cost fallacy.

This fallacy relates to costs (financial, time, energy) that have already been invested and cannot be recovered. What has occurred is done. Over. It should not have any bearing on our decision going forward.

And yet it often does.

A non-relationship example of the sunk cost fallacy would be the money paid up front for a monthly membership to a class. You go to two classes and decide you hate the course and find the instructor particularly grating. If you were paying per class, you obviously would simply stop going. However, because you paid up front, you view the money as wasted if you do not attend, so you continue to show up, hating every minute.

Pretty silly, huh? I mean, the money is gone regardless of if you turn up at the class or use that time to perfect your soap whittling skills (something which I assume is preferable to the class in question). You would be best served by writing off the money spent and using your time for something beneficial. It may not feel like money well spent, but at least it would be time well spent. And both have value.

In a relationship, the sunk cost fallacy can keep people together even when they may be better apart. The years (or even weeks or months) of time and emotional investment have already occurred and cannot be recovered. As such, they should not be considered in the decision of whether or not to continue the relationship. Moving forward because of sunk costs won’t make you happier. Energy invested in the past doesn’t promise a return in the future. When deciding if a relationship should continue, look at the value it brings to the present and the predicted value in the future, not the investments already made. Those costs are already sunk. Sinking more ships won’t make the first ones rise.

What has passed, is past.

And the past shouldn’t dictate your future.

So, if the relationship still has an intact hull, let it sail on its own merits.

If the hull is breached beyond repair, let it sink.

And then whittle that block of soap into a sculpture:)

 

Are You Falling For the Sunk Cost Fallacy in Your Relationship?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
sunk cost

I love learning about how our brains operate and how they often fool us. We tend to think of ourselves as rational creatures when the reality is often anything but. There are many fallacies that we fall prey to, but there is one in particular that plays a dominant role in relationships.

The sunk cost fallacy.

This fallacy relates to costs (financial, time, energy) that have already been invested and cannot be recovered. What has occurred is done. Over. It should not have any bearing on our decision going forward.

And yet it often does.

A non-relationship example of the sunk cost fallacy would be the money paid up front for a monthly membership to a class. You go to two classes and decide you hate the course and find the instructor particularly grating. If you were paying per class, you obviously would simply stop going. However, because you paid up front, you view the money as wasted if you do not attend, so you continue to show up, hating every minute.

Pretty silly, huh? I mean, the money is gone regardless of if you turn up at the class or use that time to perfect your soap whittling skills (something which I assume is preferable to the class in question). You would be best served by writing off the money spent and using your time for something beneficial. It may not feel like money well spent, but at least it would be time well spent. And both have value.

In a relationship, the sunk cost fallacy can keep people together even when they may be better apart. The years (or even weeks or months) of time and emotional investment have already occurred and cannot be recovered. As such, they should not be considered in the decision of whether or not to continue the relationship. Moving forward because of sunk costs won’t make you happier. Energy invested in the past doesn’t promise a return in the future. When deciding if a relationship should continue, look at the value it brings to the present and the predicted value in the future, not the investments already made. Those costs are already sunk. Sinking more ships won’t make the first ones rise.

What has passed, is past.

And the past shouldn’t dictate your future.

So, if the relationship still has an intact hull, let it sail on its own merits.

If the hull is breached beyond repair, let it sink.

And then whittle that block of soap into a sculpture:)

Black Ice

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of the worst car accidents I’ve ever seen happened on black ice. It was several years ago, in front of the school where I used to work. It was a cold morning, well below freezing, but there had been no precipitation for days and so there was no expectation of ice. It turned out that an in ground sprinkler system at the front of a neighborhood had ruptured, spilling water out onto the road in the predawn hours. The water soon froze in the frigid air, becoming an unseen sheet of ice under the shadow of trees. The location was particularly treacherous, as it was not only on a hill, but also an area where people braked hard to turn into the school.

From my vantage point at a red light a block away, I saw one car after another cross the slick terrain, lose control and barrel into oncoming traffic. The engines were revving faster than reaction times so the ping-pong actions of the cars went through several iterations before traffic came to a standstill. Thankfully, on the morning in question, there were no serious injuries, yet the damage was severe. Dozens of cars were totaled. A power line was down. An overturned milk truck’s spilled contents added to the icy mess. And the road was blocked for hours.

Yet nobody involved left their house that morning afraid of the roads. No one took precautions for potential ice. It was business as usual. Until it wasn’t.

I just returned from a walk around my area of iced-locked Atlanta. The roads are still covered in 1/4″ thick sheets of glassy ice, their sides (and sometimes centers) littered with abandoned cars and even school buses. But there is some traffic moving today, the cars carefully maintaining a steady speed and avoiding sudden turns. The folks out today knew to be cautious, the ice is a known danger and they are implementing proper precautions. There are certainly accidents occurring, but few of the severity of the one I witnessed years ago.

Life’s challenges often have this distinction. Some are unanticipated and unforeseeable while others are more easily anticipated. We often berate ourselves when faced with a challenge we did not forecast. I know I did that with my divorce, wasted energy wishing that I had seen it coming so that I could prepare my bug-out bag.

But would it really have been better if I had anticipated it?

Sometimes, even when we know a challenge is coming, we can not prevent it or, like the politicians in Atlanta this week, we take a gamble and choose to not implement those preventative measures. Just the knowledge that my marriage was ending may not have been enough to change the outcome. Or, perhaps I would have gambled on things working out and chosen not to prepare.

Regardless, like the drivers on the roads today, I would have been scared, aware of the potential dangers around every bend. I would have been wary of every step, armed with the knowledge that each one taken could be one that sweeps out my life from under me. Hell, let’s be honest. If I had known that the end of the marriage was in sight, I probably would have been so scared that I would have been frozen in place. Iced in.

Black ice is treacherous because of its ability to hide. Yet its rarity means that we don’t walk around fearing its danger.

It’s funny. I used to view the tsunami nature of the end as one of the worst parts. Now? I’m thankful for it. It was a helluva wreck, but at least I wasn’t scared to drive. And even though the damages were great, there were no fatalities.

Thankful to be warm and home after an adventurous trek home from work yesterday that included a three hour drive followed by a three hour hike (and an awesome husband that met me halfway on my walk with hiking boots and hot coffee!). Many in the metro were not so lucky and spent the night in stranded cars, schools or in emergency shelters. Even though the surrounding cities screwed this up, the stories of the individuals stepping up to help others is amazing. Challenges are so much easier when we have help.

Don’t Just Survive. Thrive.

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Days after my tsunami divorce, my mom turned to me and told me I would survive.

I actually got angry and responded rather strongly, “No, I will not survive. I will thrive. To do anything less is to remain his victim.”

 

I saw surviving as the bare minimum; the mere intake of breath and food in order to go through the motions of life. I refused to settle for that. I wanted more. It felt insurmountable, yet the vision and hope remained intact.

Almost five years on, and I am happy to report that I am thriving, due in large part to the four behaviors discussed in this awesome article that discusses resiliency and the difference between thriving and merely surviving.

You deserve to thrive. Learn how to take yourself off life support so that you can flourish.

Will I Ever Trust Again?

Posted on by stilllearning2b
trust betrayal

“Will I ever trust again?” I asked, turning towards my dad in the aftermath of the day the marriage died.

My voice trembled along with the rest of my body, a pleading tone hoping for a positive response.

His eyes teared, he pulled me in for a hug. “I don’t know but I sure hope so.”

It wasn’t the response I wanted, but it was honest. And honest was what I needed.

Over the next weeks and months, I asked that question of my mom, my family, my friends, my journal.

And every response was the same.

“I don’t know.”

How do you recover from betrayal by the person closest to you? How do you move forward without armor so thick that no one will ever make it through? How do you ever put faith in another person after doing so destroyed your world and you in the process?

How do you learn to trust again?

You begin with yourself.

Intimate betrayal is an attack on two fronts. The first wound comes from the one who betrayed you, the piercing pain when you realize that he or she was sliding the blade into your back with every embrace. The second comes from within, as you begin to doubt yourself, your worth and your senses.

And you have to heal them both.

Before you can ever trust another, you have to learn to trust in yourself.

And that begins with trusting your strength to see you through.

If you believe that you are not strong enough to survive something, you will turn away from any indications that speak of impending disaster. The only way you will be receptive to reality is if you know you can handle it. Remember times that you have revealed your strengths. Celebrate those. Create smaller challenges in your life and master them. Write your story and cast yourself as strong and brave. Don’t let your betrayer create your character; you have the power to mold yourself in an image of fortitude and perseverance. Learn to see yourself as a survivor and thriver rather than a victim. You are the phoenix, not the ashes.

You are strong.

You can make it through anything.

Believe it. And it’s true.

And, once you know that you can survive, you’re ready to learn to listen, to see. Not with the fears of the past or the worries of the future, but with the truth of today.

Check in with your gut. If your intuition speaks, listen. Remember, there is nothing it can say that you cannot handle. Be present in your life, check words against actions. Trust that you will be okay even if someone’s actions indicate a problem. When learning to trust another, move slowly, letting out a little rope each time. Watch to see if they hang themselves but also be careful not to do it for them. If you act as though the past is on repeat, it will be replayed. See with the eyes of now, not the pain of yesterday. Sift through your past to find patterns, both in your betrayer and yourself. Learn how to change your responses to interrupt the playbook of the past.

Will you be able to trust again?

Yes.

But it can’t be blind trust, operating on wish alone.

It’s a trust born from strength and intention.

It comes from being present and truthful.

It hopes for the best but does not fear the worst.

It understands that you cannot control another but you can always depend on yourself.

You are strong.

You can be trusted.

Believe in yourself.