Many of us here have asked the question: Why do I keep doing this thing that is so hurtful? There is a lot of brain science that helps to answer that question. I wrote a blog post about that today and thought some here might be interested. Here it is:
I recently found a nice discussion about the ever-vexing human phenomenon of the "inner argument." We have all experienced the sensation of a war going on within our own minds, when we are faced with a decision about whether or not to engage in some behavior that seems attractive, but risky. In some situations, we may even find that we bypass any conscious awareness of an inner argument, getting and remaining "stuck" in a pattern of engaging in the risky or harmful behavior, knowing that we should not, and repeatedly asking ourselves, afterwards: "Why do I keep doing that?" This is the persistent question asked by those who engage in compulsive and self-destructive behaviors, such as substance abuse.
How can it be that I persistently do things that I know I should not do? St. Paul famously agonized about this problem in one of his letters, now known as part of the Christian scriptures: "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."
We could interpret this very human phenomenon within a theological model, and many have done so. But another way to look at it is as a question of brain function, and psychology.
First, we have to remember that the brain has always got a lot of signaling going on, involving the regulation of all the body's systems; monitoring, evaluating, and processing all environmental (and interoceptive, or internal) input; creating and retrieving memories (learning); and initiating and regulating behavior, cognition, and feeling-states (emotions). Sometimes there are competing demands among all these functions! There are often entirely different brain systems that play roles in human decision-making, creating what we experience as internal conflict, and sometimes as inexplicable behavior.
As Frontal Cortex (a very nice neuroscience blog) puts it:
Here are two examples: First, there are separate brain systems that manage what we experience as "wanting," as opposed to what we experience as "liking." Especially in the case of drug abuse, the system that develops a strong habit or dependence on acquiring a chemical substance is manifested in our minds as a compelling desire, or craving, for the substance ("wanting"), even while we know that we do not "like" or "enjoy" the effects of the substance.
Second, our brains have two other distinct systems, one of which is used to evaluate risk, and the other to evaluate reward. Within the frontal lobes, there are separate regions, (dorsal and medial prefrontal cortex) that can convey entirely different "decision signals" in situations that involve potentially risky, but possibly rewarding, behavior. Again, we subjectively experience these competing signals in our minds as an internal argument. And often we make what seems to be a totally "wrong" choice, not knowing why have done so.
So, what good can it possibly do us (what good would it have done for poor St. Paul) to know these things? Much of this brain circuitry operates far outside of our conscious awareness and, even with the most careful and diligent monitoring of our thoughts, we cannot possibly achieve full access to this processing, or control over its results.
However, we can engage in choices, and new habitual behaviors, that will reduce the likelihood of falling prey to internal battles. We can, to a large extent, manage both our internal and our external environments. Managing the internal environment means becoming aware of our own thought processes, and refusing to indulge in the kind of thoughts that tend to glorify or promote the potential "rewards" of engaging in risky behavior.
It's important to remember that, so far as the brain is concerned, mental rehearsal of a behavioral sequence amounts to the same thing as actually engaging in the behavior, in the "real" world. That's why athletes benefit from mentally rehearsing a successful performance of one of the moves they need to be able to do well. If we mentally engage in memories about, or plans for, an episode of drug use, or gambling, or whatever the behavior might be (especially if we do so while allowing conscious access only to the remembered or imagined positive aspects of the experience), then we have taken a very large step forward in the direction of enacting those thoughts in our lives. We have also, in effect, strengthened the very habit that we wish to eliminate.
Managing the external environment means eliminating, insofar as is practical and possible, the cues or triggers that automatically bring on-line the brain systems that engage in satisfying "wants" and achieving "rewards." Many environmental cues are very strong and potent, when we are first engaged in the work of changing our habits. Avoiding them, as we learn new "coping behaviors" and responses to stress, and to the absence of our typical behavioral response, is the best course of action. We will have plenty of learning to do, early on, just coping with internally generated cues and triggers. And, as we gradually learn to resist various problematic external triggers, they become less capable of overwhelming us with "wanting," and the illusory promise of "reward."
I recently found a nice discussion about the ever-vexing human phenomenon of the "inner argument." We have all experienced the sensation of a war going on within our own minds, when we are faced with a decision about whether or not to engage in some behavior that seems attractive, but risky. In some situations, we may even find that we bypass any conscious awareness of an inner argument, getting and remaining "stuck" in a pattern of engaging in the risky or harmful behavior, knowing that we should not, and repeatedly asking ourselves, afterwards: "Why do I keep doing that?" This is the persistent question asked by those who engage in compulsive and self-destructive behaviors, such as substance abuse.
How can it be that I persistently do things that I know I should not do? St. Paul famously agonized about this problem in one of his letters, now known as part of the Christian scriptures: "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate."
We could interpret this very human phenomenon within a theological model, and many have done so. But another way to look at it is as a question of brain function, and psychology.
First, we have to remember that the brain has always got a lot of signaling going on, involving the regulation of all the body's systems; monitoring, evaluating, and processing all environmental (and interoceptive, or internal) input; creating and retrieving memories (learning); and initiating and regulating behavior, cognition, and feeling-states (emotions). Sometimes there are competing demands among all these functions! There are often entirely different brain systems that play roles in human decision-making, creating what we experience as internal conflict, and sometimes as inexplicable behavior.
As Frontal Cortex (a very nice neuroscience blog) puts it:
"At any given moment, the cortex is riven by disagreement, as rival bits of tissue contradict each other. Different brain areas think different things for different reasons; all those mental components stuffed inside our head are constantly fighting for influence and attention. In this sense, the mind is really an extended argument."
Second, our brains have two other distinct systems, one of which is used to evaluate risk, and the other to evaluate reward. Within the frontal lobes, there are separate regions, (dorsal and medial prefrontal cortex) that can convey entirely different "decision signals" in situations that involve potentially risky, but possibly rewarding, behavior. Again, we subjectively experience these competing signals in our minds as an internal argument. And often we make what seems to be a totally "wrong" choice, not knowing why have done so.
So, what good can it possibly do us (what good would it have done for poor St. Paul) to know these things? Much of this brain circuitry operates far outside of our conscious awareness and, even with the most careful and diligent monitoring of our thoughts, we cannot possibly achieve full access to this processing, or control over its results.
However, we can engage in choices, and new habitual behaviors, that will reduce the likelihood of falling prey to internal battles. We can, to a large extent, manage both our internal and our external environments. Managing the internal environment means becoming aware of our own thought processes, and refusing to indulge in the kind of thoughts that tend to glorify or promote the potential "rewards" of engaging in risky behavior.
It's important to remember that, so far as the brain is concerned, mental rehearsal of a behavioral sequence amounts to the same thing as actually engaging in the behavior, in the "real" world. That's why athletes benefit from mentally rehearsing a successful performance of one of the moves they need to be able to do well. If we mentally engage in memories about, or plans for, an episode of drug use, or gambling, or whatever the behavior might be (especially if we do so while allowing conscious access only to the remembered or imagined positive aspects of the experience), then we have taken a very large step forward in the direction of enacting those thoughts in our lives. We have also, in effect, strengthened the very habit that we wish to eliminate.
Managing the external environment means eliminating, insofar as is practical and possible, the cues or triggers that automatically bring on-line the brain systems that engage in satisfying "wants" and achieving "rewards." Many environmental cues are very strong and potent, when we are first engaged in the work of changing our habits. Avoiding them, as we learn new "coping behaviors" and responses to stress, and to the absence of our typical behavioral response, is the best course of action. We will have plenty of learning to do, early on, just coping with internally generated cues and triggers. And, as we gradually learn to resist various problematic external triggers, they become less capable of overwhelming us with "wanting," and the illusory promise of "reward."
Comment