Why Is It Soooo Dang HARD To Change Other People??

My partner misplaced his glasses for the fifth time today. As he does most days.

And because my brain functions differently from his, I know I could devise a fix for him. I could help with a system (or a neck cord!). I could save him searching, being frustrated. I could make him more productive!

And some days, even with the low stakes, and even though I’m out of my lane here, I sure would like to…

And in relationships when the stakes are higher—like watching someone struggle with addiction or a terrible relationship—the urge to swoop in is even higher.

Why is it so hard to follow Mel Robbins’s advice to “Let them”? Why do we so consistently believe in our own ability and agency to change other people?

What’s so great about accepting others, really?

Well, here’s one problem with trying to fix someone: it has us looking for what’s wrong with them, which turns out to be INSTEAD of looking for what’s right with them. I mean, when I wish he was less absent-minded, aren’t I really wishing to change something about the ecosystem of his brain?

And another problem: “Suffering,” a wise therapist repeated to me more than once, “Comes from resisting what is.”

When we resist what is—which we know for A FACT that we are doing when we find ourselves trying to change what is—we head towards agitation, sleeplessness … and break-ups.

So, here’s the powerful antidote, a question my wise friend always reminds me about:

What if you stopped believing that there really is anything—like, NOT ONE THING—you can do to change another person?

Sit with that for a moment.

• You are not going to make your partner take the trash out just because it’s obviously full. You are not going to make them use a nicer voice or different voice when they are upset or angry or confused.

• You are not going to make your team member do deadlines well or be on time to staff meetings.

• You are not going to make your mother or father apologize or compliment you on something—if he or she hasn’t been the sort who does that.

• You are not going to make your child want to get out of bed and eat a wholesome breakfast before school if they aren’t morning people.

These honorable and honest desires on behalf of the people in our lives come up regularly in my coaching conversations—as well as in my own brain. We often want our relationships to feel … different.

We see the error of others’ ways, and want them to see the light. Seriously (and snark aside), most of us deeply desire ease for and with those we care about.

But acceptance starts by repeating to yourself as many times as necessary: THIS is who I’ve got.

When I have repeated that enough times, when I surrender my belief that I can change anything about anyone else, something new is possible. I know I’m there when I stop wishing things felt different. When I stop looking for workarounds, life lesson opportunities, or new strategies for other people. Stop offering advice or “shoulds.”

And then, finally, I find some space to just survey this other human – my partner, my family member, my teammate – with an open heart.

It allows me to SEE them: their habits, proclivities, desires. Their texture and volume. How I feel when I am near them. What I love about them. What I decidedly do not love about them.

And, if I really let them be ALL of who they are?

When I really do this, I find that two surprising things happen.

First, my heart settles. I am no longer suffering from my own failure to have impact on another human.

Second, I realize, I have so many choices! But rather than choices about what to do with or about this person, they are choices in my own lane. They are all related to how I want to respond.

I might see a different way to solve a problem that does not include changing the other person.

I might also see a bright red “EXIT” sign. Or find a new boundary line I need to stand on my own side of.

I might see a version of myself that I like better. A version where I see the entirety of another human—the good, the bad, and the ugly—and I love them regardless. Or even because.

Like many humans, I forget to do this practice. All. The. Time.

So if you are steaming about someone’s failures today, here it is again, in case you need it, that question to get you back on your own path: What if there was nothing—NOT ONE THING—you could do to change another person?

The glasses always turn up eventually.