It stresses the importance of the great leap forward achieved via some form of epiphany; it’s not a simple tipping of the balance sheet to 51–49 in favor of the pros. Again, it’s not a small step forward toward successful and sustainable change; it works better if you take a giant leap.
“Pros and cons of decision making is not a conscious, rational, empirical process,” Professor Prochaska said. “It is very emotionally based.”
What can make someone passionate about a new direction? What gives them the drive to charge ahead with an unstoppable “no-prisoners” attitude? Prochaska explained that a dramatic event could cause someone to reevaluate pros and cons.
Such a dramatic event found its initial spark for Chuck Gross in January 2008. He sat in an Irish pub in New Orleans, called Boondock Saint, having a quiet beer or five. The bar was named to pay homage to a cult-action film of a similar name.
“My brothers-in-law are twins. My wife and I took them barhopping on Bourbon Street for their twenty-first birthdays,” Chuck, a computer programmer in Pittsburgh, told me. The Irish-style pub was dark and somewhat gloomy. A mirror advertising Guinness hung on an aging brick wall. Being it was a twenty-first birthday event in the French Quarter of New Orleans, Chuck was in no shape to walk a straight line.
That night, Chuck had a chance meeting that would be the first step on a journey that would change his life.
“Back then I was not a social person, being as fat as I was,” Chuck said. He described two seats at the far end of the bar, and how he ended up sitting next to an average-looking man who practically forced Chuck to speak with him.
The man was in his fifties, clean-shaven, plain-faced, and wearing glasses, Chuck recalled. His hair was gray-white, he had an outgoing personality, and it seemed like he couldn’t help but engage in conversation. Because Chuck had consumed a few drinks, he began to loosen up.
The two men talked for a time of things inconsequential, and then the man informed Chuck of his profession as a photographer, which he proclaimed gave him the ability to read people. “I see the fear in your eyes,” the man told him.
Chuck admits that his memory was hazy due to alcohol consumption, but insists the stranger never brought up Chuck’s weight. Rather, the man told him he could see there was something Chuck wanted to do, and that the fear he felt soon wouldn’t be a problem in this quest.
Chuck Gross was taken aback that a random stranger would speak to him in such a way. I advocate against poking one’s nose into the body weight of others; people should mind their own business. Even though Chuck’s obesity was not mentioned, it was obvious what the man was talking about. The conversation ended abruptly but still had a profound effect.
Two months later, Chuck Gross was dead.
Lightning Strikes
The life-changing epiphany seems rare because people aren’t forthcoming about it.
William Miller and his coauthor write in Quantum Change: “people who experience such events are often reluctant to discuss them openly.” In their research, they uncovered that many had told only one or two people, and some never told anyone. I’m kind of a big deal on Facebook, so when I asked, people came forward.
Bragging over one’s social-media following is the epitome of pathetic, but if you want to “Like” my page, it’s facebook.com/bodyforwife.
During the interviews, Miller and C’de Baca write, “the words came tumbling out like a great unburdening.” Yep. That’s what happened with my interviews, too. It’s because such an event changes how people feel, what they think, how they experience the world. It is a Big Deal. Life will never be the same.
Freaked out a little right now? I mean, Chuck Gross died, right?
It’s a good kind of lightning strike, however, like when Luke learned he was to become a Jedi, except without having your aunt and uncle burned to a crisp by Imperial Stormtroopers.
Of the fifty-five people interviewed for Quantum Change, the authors explained that for 80 percent of them, it “took them completely by surprise.” And for half, nothing special was happening leading up to it. This reinforces Beeman and Kounios, who say lightning strikes during diversion after getting stuck.
To repeat: keep working at it, follow the steps in this book, then take a break and let the unconscious do its thing.
Let’s get back to Chuck.
As forward as the stranger’s words were, it nudged him from the precontemplation stage to the edges of contemplation. Cons of change became slightly minimized, and pros garnered more investigation and emphasis.
“During those two months, the conversation was eating away at me both subconsciously and consciously,” Chuck said, explaining that many of the things one experiences when they are that heavy are buried because they’re constant: back pain, aching feet, always being out of breath. Before, they were facts of life, but after the meeting, he became more aware of them. Chuck’s brain was becoming primed for lightning to strike.
It was March 11, and the Pittsburgh winter edged toward spring, a time of rebirth. Rather than forget his chance meeting at Boondock Saint the previous January, Chuck dwelled on it.
Then it happened.
“My wife Denise came out of the bathroom with a positive pregnancy test,” Chuck said. He explained this was not something planned for. They’d talked about having children, but it was always for the future, when he was healthier and had lost weight.
“The lightning bolt was instantaneous,” he said. It first hit him with overwhelming joy that he was going to be a father, but he also knew with absolute clarity he had to do something about his condition. He described it as though someone hit him in the back of the head with a baseball bat, full swing.
The bat to Chuck’s skull was what ended his life, metaphorically speaking. “I tell people I died that day. The old Chuck is dead. I killed him.”
Chuck’s realization that he had to change happened in an instant, when he knew he had to become not just the father his child needed, but the husband his wife deserved. Yet Chuck didn’t stop thinking there. The powerful “Aha!” moment brought additional clarity to who he was and how he needed to change.
“I realized that a big part of my identity was wrapped up in me being fat,” he said. The emotion of the moment was clear; years later he struggled to tell the tale. Voice thick, Chuck explained he was always the fat kid growing up; people made fun of him for it. His identity was as the funny fat guy; the guy girls wanted as a friend, but never to date. People knew him for being able to eat and drink a lot, and that was all. With the pregnancy announcement, Chuck had a new identity thrust upon him, that of a father, making his values pivot hard in a new direction.
In 2016, researchers from the University of Oregon published a study in Psychological Inquiry about the “identity-value model” of self-regulation. The authors theorize that “behaviors that are connected to identity are more likely to be enacted because they hold greater subjective value.” They examined the dieter’s dilemma, investigating how people struggle with eating healthfully, and how self-control is about two opposing processes: impulsively eat the doughnut, for example, because it’s yummy, or strive to regulate that behavior and resist the treat in favor of vegetables?
When someone’s identity is one that places high value on healthy eating, there isn’t much struggle. It’s not a matter of exerting willpower; it’s acting in a way that is in direct relevance to who they are. At the beginning of this book, I mentioned awakening the grizzly, but it’s more about becoming the grizzly.
The final part of Chuck’s process to destroy that old identity and create a new one involved stepping on the scale. Technology lent him a hand.
“The scale was only rated up to 400 pounds and always gave me an error message,