Emotional Agility: Get Unstuck, Embrace Change, and Thrive in Work and Life

by Susan David

To be clear, I’m not suggesting we should all simply “think positive” and ignore real underlying concerns. If you can’t find a “want to” in some particular facet of your life, then that could be a sign that change is in order. If you entered your field because you wanted to make a difference in the world but your company is focused more on the bottom line, it may be time to switch jobs. Or if you’ve come to realize that your significant other is not the person you thought he was, you might need to seek a new relationship. Finding a “want to” is not about forcing any particular choice; it’s about making it easier to choose things that lead to the life you want.

if we want to direct our behavior toward our values—if we want to reach the master-class level of emotional agility—we should transform our intentional behaviors into habits, making them so deeply ingrained that we no longer have to be “intentional” about them at all.

In the manner of Thaler and Sunstein, here are some more tweaks you can make to alter the architecture of your choices. 1. The no-brainer: Switch up your environment so that when you’re hungry, tired, stressed, or rushed, the choice most aligned with your values is also the easiest.

2. The piggyback: Add a new behavior onto an existing habit.

In certain areas of life, though, there is such a thing as being “too competent.” When we get too good at something, we can quickly find ourselves lulled back into autopilot mode, reinforcing not just rigid behavior but also disengagement, lack of growth, and boredom—in short, we fail to thrive.

In our relationships, creative lives, personal development, and work, we can promote this advancement in two ways—expanding our breadth (what we do: the skills we acquire, the topics we talk about, the avenues we explore) and our depth (how well we do what we do: the quality of our listening, our level of engagement with the world).

Just as we’re wired to explore, we’re also wired to keep ourselves safe, and our brains confuse safety with comfort, a comfort that can get us hooked. If something feels comfortable—as in familiar, accessible, and coherent—our brains signal that we’re just fine where we are, thank you very much. And if something feels new, difficult, or even slightly incoherent, fear kicks in. And while fear comes in all shapes and sizes, and sometimes it appears in disguise (as procrastination, perfection, shutting down, unassertiveness, or excuses), it speaks only one word: no, as in “No, I’ll just screw it up.” “Nah, I won’t know anyone there.” “Nope, that will look awful on me.” “Nuh-uh, thanks; I’ll sit this one out.”

Studies show that when we make judgments about risk, we show a bias toward the familiar.

Accessibility—the degree to which something is easy to understand—is another proxy in our brains for safety and comfort.

Our bias in favor of the familiar and the accessible can even influence what we accept as the truth: We give more credence to opinions that appear to be widely held.

I need the coherence provided by my cognitive brain to remind me that I am the same person today as I was yesterday, that someday I will die, and that, between now and then (if I last long enough), I will grow old, so it would be wise to plan for that and to make the most of the time I have.

Coherence—like familiarity and accessibility—is a crude proxy in our brain for “safe,” even when the desire for coherence leads us to go against our own best interests.

It’s the comfort we take in the familiar and the coherent that leads us to continue seeing ourselves based on how we saw ourselves as children. How we were treated as children is then used by us as adults to predict how we’ll be seen and received today, as well as how we deserve to be treated, even when it’s derogatory and self-limiting.

Fear of success, or fear of even being “okay,” can lead to self-sabotage, including underperformance in school, being a slacker, or ruining an otherwise healthy relationship because you haven’t “earned” it.

By definition, immediate gratification makes us feel good a lot faster than do the tiny tweaks and disciplined, steady work that can actually get us to higher ground.

These self-sabotaging responses are not what we choose to do; they’re what we’ve been conditioned to do, and will continue to do until we unhook from the flight to the familiar and find the agility to shut down the autopilot, show up, step out, and take agency of our own lives. That’s how we’re able to continuously embrace the challenges that allow us to thrive.

the only people who never feel hurt, vulnerable, mad, anxious, depressed, stressed, or any of the other uncomfortable emotions that come with taking on challenges are those who are no longer with us.

To stay truly alive, we need to choose courage over comfort so that we keep growing, climbing, and challenging ourselves, and that means not getting stuck thinking we’ve found heaven when we’re simply sitting on the nearest plateau.

The consensus among psychologists and learning specialists, though, is that mastery is not so much a question of the time invested but the quality of the investment. Quality investment requires “effortful learning,” a form of mindful practice that entails continually tackling challenges that lie just beyond our grasp.

Effortful learning means mindful engagement that continues to expand the boundaries and increase the sophistication of one’s knowledge and experience.

When you’re consciously unskilled or consciously skilled, you’re still within the zone of optimal development because you’re open to receiving more knowledge. You may be a beginner, and therefore a little shaky, but at least you have the beginner’s mind, which includes the desire to grow and the willingness to learn.

But the right amount of stress—whelmed but not overwhelmed—can be a great motivator. As uncomfortable as it feels at times, it’s the stress that keeps us moving forward.

No one ever got anywhere that mattered without stress and discomfort.

Confusing safety with the familiar, the accessible, and the coherent limits our options. (The door you know because you came in through it is not necessarily the safest exit in an emergency.) To keep growing, you need to be open to the unfamiliar, even the uncomfortable. And leaning in to your uncomfortable emotions allows you to learn from them.

Flourishing means expanding both the range of what you do and the depth or skill with which you do it. As for range, ask yourself, “What have I done lately that scares me? When was the last time I tried something and failed?” If you draw a blank, you’re probably playing it too safe. As for depth, when was the last time you felt vulnerable because you were investing your full passion and really laying it on the line, perhaps in creativity on the job, perhaps in a relationship? Do you truly know the people around you, or do you rely on small talk to limit anything deep and real? If you were going to die this evening, what would you most regret not having said?

While the passion part of grit is important, it’s healthy only when you are managing the passion, rather than letting it manage you. Passion that becomes an obsession to the point of obscuring other important life activities is not going to help you thrive.

Meanwhile, waiting too long to face up to the cold hard facts can cost you plenty as the doors to other opportunities continue to close. Sometimes the truly courageous thing is to say, “I just can’t do this to myself anymore.” We should be gritty, yes, but not stupid. The most agile and adaptive response to an unattainable goal is goal adjustment, which entails both disengaging from the unattainable goal and then re-engaging in an alternative. These are tough, often scary decisions to make, and it’s easy to feel like a quitter if you’re hooked on the idea that grit is a quality to be valued above all others. But there’s no shame—in fact there’s actually a lot of virtue—in making a logical, heartfelt choice. Instead of looking at these transitions as giving up, look at them as moving on. You’re letting yourself evolve and grow along with your circumstances, choosing a new path that is full of possibility. That decision is filled with grace and dignity.

In trying to balance the “grit versus quit” equation, the economist Stephen J. Dubner compares two things: the sunk cost and the opportunity cost. The sunk cost refers to whatever investment—money, time, energy—you’ve already made in your venture that makes you reluctant to just drop it. The opportunity cost is what you’re giving up by sticking with the choice you’ve made.

If you’re faced with a grit-or-quit decision, here are some things to ask yourself: Overall, do I find joy or satisfaction in what I’m doing? Does this reflect what is important to me—my values? Does this draw on my strengths? If I’m completely honest with myself, do I believe that I (or this situation) can really be a success? What opportunities will I give up if I persevere with this? Am I being gritty, or am I being stupid?