Overcoming Internal Gatekeeping
Welcome to October!
This is my second year entering the autumn season in a part of the country that basically has one season: unbelievably pleasant. That’s it. That’s our season. I mean. It might rain in March. For a couple hours. On a couple days.
Our apartment building has a lovely outdoor seating area with comfortable tables and chairs and greenery. If ever I find myself up there, I think to myself, I should bring a book up and just sit and read for a bit.
And then I get back to my apartment. And I look at a book. And somehow, I manage to talk myself out of going up there with it. I preemptively nope myself. “It’ll be too hot. What if it’s crowded? It’s probably less comfortable than it seems.” OR WHATEVER. It hardly matters what dumdum notion my brain comes up with. It just serves to stop me in advance.
Hold that thought.
I recently attended a talk by Glen Galaich of Stupski Foundation, who published Control: Why Big Giving Falls Short earlier this year. In the book, he “shows how our philanthropic system and culture encourage excessive donor control, and he questions if these are even the roles that big donors want to play.” Among other things, he points out that what foundations want to do is support their communities in the ways their communities need. But then they abide by “fake rules” like “our annual spending limit is 5%” (while meeting their own stated missions probably requires them to spend down or spend out) or “we need to exist in perpetuity in order to address future problems” (while underfunding current problems, thereby ensuring that there will be future problems) or “we can’t trust the community to use the money wisely, so we have to decide for them how to use it” (while being so divorced from the ground that their decisions are as likely to create problems as fix problems).
During the talk, he noted one of the reasons that “Big Giving” falls short: a rich person dies, and wants their money to go to a certain community they care about. The money starts heading toward the community. It’s going, going, going…and then, before it actually reaches the community, it gets snatched in midair by a thing called a Foundation. Enter Fake Rules.
While there are a number of reasons that I recommend the book, I bring it up because it occurred to me that I can extrapolate a lesson here for me and my own barriers.
When I think about the gatekeeping function of foundations as snatching money from the very communities their mission is to support, I think: that’s exactly what my subconscious brain is doing to me. My subconscious brain is acting as a gatekeeper that is snatching my goal in midair and using fake rules to KEEP me from doing something that meets MY stated goals.
Going back to those notions my brain creates: I can offer a rebuttal for every single one in the blink of an eye. “It’ll be too hot?” At some point of the day, it’s never too hot. “What if it’s crowded?” It’s barely used, much less ever crowded. “It’s probably less comfortable than it seems.” Fine, so then I’ll move to a different seat – or at worst, return to my apartment, but after having gotten a dash of fresh air and vitamin D.
OK then, why is my subconscious brain acting as a gatekeeper? Why is there a mechanism in my brain that is functioning as a “foundation,” if you will? A mechanism that is requiring me to provide evidence that I will be a good steward of my own wellbeing, explain how this thing will meet my mission? Make an f*ing case for why I need its permission to do this thing that clearly will benefit me?
Now. I will be the first to allow that I am sometimes often not, er, the best steward of my own wellbeing. But sitting outside with a book? I’m on pretty sure footing in that regard. I am also quite confident that I can discern when I’m being a good steward of my wellbeing (much like community organizations are quite capable of understanding what their communities need).
My mission, it seems to me, should I choose to accept it, is to channel the same injustice I feel when foundations use fake rules to underfund communities into my own brain’s gatekeeping mechanism — “how dare you. I know what I’m doing, this will be good for me, and it’s my decision to make.”
How about you? Do you have a “fake rules” gatekeeper? How do you pull it out by the stakes?
And while you’re thinking about that, do read the book! Maybe you can join me in our lovely outdoor space.