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Thoughts

The most powerful thing I have learned as a therapist—something many ancient spiritual practices have always understood—is that your beliefs create your reality. 


The brain is constantly bombarded with thousands of pieces of information—biological, physical, social–much of which is ambiguous and open to interpretation. To make sense of this flood of stimuli, it relies on a framework: your beliefs. Our beliefs function as the roadmap for reality. 


Is your friend actually annoying, or are you just hungry? Is your day really off to a bad start, or are you just sleep deprived? 


If your roadmap is shaped by negative beliefs, then that’s the reality you’ll experience. Your friend is annoying. Your day already sucks. Your coworker's coldness means he disapproves of you. Your friend didn’t say “hi,” he must be mad at you. Your boss is punishing you by asking you to stay late. 


Conversely, if your roadmap is shaped by positive beliefs, then you’ll interpret those same situations differently. You recognize that hunger and tiredness are fueling irritation. Your coworker is likely upset for their own reasons. Your friend didn’t say “hi” because they didn’t see you. Your boss asked you to stay late because they trust you to get things done. 


It doesn’t feel like an interpretation. It feels like objective reality. But it isn’t.


This assumption is the foundation for many theories of psychotherapy: how does our “unconscious understanding” of the world or “automatic beliefs” lead our brain to perceive the world in the way it does. 


Generally the idea is, if we were raised by loving and validating parents that supported our individual identity, emotions and experiences, then we learn to trust ourselves and the world. If we were raised by parents that were stressed and burnt out, emotionally absent, and/or had their own unresolved trauma, they may unintentionally, or even intentionally, conveyed that our needs are burdensome and our emotions are invalid. We then constantly doubt ourselves, believe the world is dangerous, love is conditional, and only certain parts of us are acceptable. 


These beliefs are so powerful that not only do they shape how we see the world, but they actually lead us into an existence that confirms them. The real tragedy is that when we see the world negatively, we are actually acting in ways that perpetuate that negativity.


When you’re suspicious of others, you go into situations closed off and people react negatively to your automatic mistrust of them. When you expect rejection and to not belong, you don’t put yourself out there or allow yourself to be vulnerable and seen by others. If people don’t see you, they can’t relate to you, or connect to you, and you end up getting left on the outskirts.  When you judge or dismiss your feelings, then you don’t listen to your intuition and consequently are misled by others, leading you to be hurt, and then mistrust your feelings–and others– all over again. 


None of this is in our conscious control. Our formation of beliefs is involuntary, and is a complicated amalgam of personal experiences, genes, and collective societal beliefs. But many of these beliefs are deeply entrenched and enduring, leading us to not only interpret, but also recreate the world based on these experiences. So deeply entrenched are these beliefs, that not only do ambiguous stimuli—but sometimes even clear contradictions— fall into the default (belief) category.


So in a sense, we create our own reality depending on our beliefs. This can be both liberating and devastating. It’s terribly painful to think we could be responsible for our own suffering. But it’s also extremely powerful to know that we can change things that we once felt we had no control over. 


It's important to note that this doesn’t invalidate the very real pain of trauma, injustice, or adversity. It doesn’t deny the impact of others’ cruelty or systems of oppression. But it means we retain agency—we get to choose how we respond and what those experiences meant to us: will they crush us or will they motivate us. 


We don’t choose our genetics, our family, or our society. We don’t choose our initial beliefs or reality. 


But what we do have is free will. We do get to choose how we will spend every moment of our lives. 


The hallmark of good mental health is psychological flexibility


Psychology flexibility means not being married to the way our brains perceive the world. It means taking a step back and considering other options. It means noticing the “Negative Nancy Thought” or the scared feeling and deciding to try something new anyway.


And when you begin to change, the world begins to change with you. You find new people, have different experiences, and start to feel safer, more seen, and more authentically yourself.


This is the heart of Psychotherapy. At its core, therapy helps you create new roadmaps—rooted in self-trust, openness, and growth. You can't control everything that happens, but you can learn to see and respond to the world differently. And in doing so, you create the reality that you want. 


 
 
 

I recently heard this incredibly poignant metaphor that beautifully captures the relationship between the Self and the Mind within a mindfulness-based model of therapy: the Elephant and the Rider.


In this metaphor, the Elephant represents the brain—all of our automatic, unconscious processes. It holds our instinctive reactions, emotional patterns, and long-standing beliefs about ourselves and the world. The Rider symbolizes the Self—the conscious observer, and our will: the part of us that reflects, and makes choices.


Before we embark on the journey of self-exploration—whether through therapy, mindfulness or meditation, or transformative life experiences—most of us move through life with the Rider and the Elephant fused into one indistinguishable being. Our automatic thoughts and feelings lead to automatic action. 


The Elephant gets scared – the Rider instinctively veers away from the source of fear. The Elephant feels self-conscious – the Rider shies away in embarrassment. The Elephant becomes angry – the Rider acts out in response.


Once however we become mindful of the brain’s automatic, unconscious processes, the boundary between the Rider and the Elephant begins to emerge. The Rider realizes he is distinct from the Elephant and is able take "control". But this control is not absolute. The Elephant is enormous and powerful - shaped by biology and years of experience. It can easily overpower the Rider. It cannot be forced or coerced. Ergo, the Rider’s role is not to control, but to guide.


Now let’s imagine how life unfolds in this metaphor. The Rider and Elephant, journeying on the path of life, come upon a dark, foreboding forest filled with ominous shadows and eerie, unfamiliar sounds. Naturally, the Elephant is afraid and refuses to proceed. But the Rider knows that on the other side lies a beautiful, open, serene clearing filled with fruit trees.


Before discovering mindfulness, both Rider and Elephant might have turned away from the forest and taken another path. But now that they are separate, the Rider gently urges the Elephant forward. The Elephant is terrified—moving slowly, heart racing, trembling. The Rider is empathetic to the Elephant’s fear, but knows this is the most efficient path. He offers gentle words of kindness and encouragement, patiently guiding the Elephant one step at a time.


As they move forward, the Elephant begins to realize that the shadows are just from the trees, and the noises are simply squirrels going about their day. Gradually, the Elephant relaxes. Even starts to feel confident, wondering what all the fuss was about in the first place. 


The Elephant is our unconscious mind. We can never fully overpower it or bend it to our will. Perhaps, temporarily, we can manage the elephant through offering treats (numbing with substances), distracting it (avoiding or suppressing feelings), or through punishment (shaming ourselves for our emotions). Ultimately though, these tricks stop working with time or lead to the Elephant becoming completely compromised. 


Rather than fighting the Elephant, we must compassionately accept it as it is. We cannot force the Elephant to change immediately, but we can guide it and show it a different way. We don't control the Elephant; we direct it. We gently lead it, comforting it along the way when it is scared, sad, hurt, or angry. With time, the Elephant's impulses become less strong and more amenable to the Rider.


This is how we must treat our minds. We must approach our thoughts and emotions with kindness, acceptance, and a steady hand that continues leading toward growth, even when the way is uncertain. As we do this, we begin to see that the intimidating obstacles of life are not as immovable as they once seemed, and that not only can we handle challenges, but that we can thrive with them. Over time, we feel more confident and secure with ourselves. Proud of our bravery in meeting life’s challenges head on. 



 
 
 

Repressing emotions is pretty universal. While globally there are differing levels of cultural acceptance around emotions, to some extent, every culture represses some or the majority of emotions.


In my opinion, repressing emotions is the most nonsensical thing that the human brain and our collective consciousness has cooked up. Emotions are not scary monsters under the bed to be run away from. EMOTIONS ARE INFORMATION. That is their primary purpose. To communicate something to you immediately. Emotions are instant, instinctual, gut reactions that bypass the “logical” brain because they provide information that is immediately important to survival. You don’t need a reason to feel a certain way, you just do, automatically, and that is precisely why they are useful. Emotions motivate action from yourself, and motivate action from others by signaling a need.


I should note that emotions shouldn’t universally be acted on because, well, sometimes the information we have that generates that emotion is faulty or incomplete, BUT the PRESENCE of that emotion is NOT something that should be ignored. The emotion is there to communicate something to you. Emotions need to be felt and acknowledged because they provide that instantaneous information that aids the brain in decision-making. Whether you decide to act on that particular emotion or not is another story, but by ignoring the emotion, you are missing out on critical data that allows you to make a sound decision.


Many clients come to therapy having made incredibly unwise life decisions with disastrous consequences, such as having married awful people, chose jobs that are ill suited for them, adopted a lifestyle that’s harmful (i.e. drug addiction) or unfulfilling, for the simple reason that they have been avoiding their emotions. Pushing down what their gut is telling them day in and day out. And I do acknowledge that it is confusing: to know exactly the difference between our feelings or what the brain is telling us. This is where therapy, mindfulness and meditation, can help us to differentiate those internal experiences (i.e. thoughts vs. emotions vs. body sensations).


However, the common sentiment that making emotional decisions is always bad, and that it inevitably leads to impulsive and regrettable behavior, represents, at best, an incomplete understanding of the purpose of our emotions and, at worst, is just flat out fallacious. It is EQUALLY if not MORE damaging to ignore your emotions. When we don’t listen to how we’re feeling, we’re making decisions with only a portion of the data. Sometimes, the portion of data originating from emotions is the more crucial piece since it is closely connected to our instincts and subconscious—the parts of our brain and body that lack consciousness and verbalization, yet possess a strong awareness that something is very wrong


In a nutshell, DO NOT IGNORE YOUR EMOTIONS PEOPLE! Feel them. Lean into them. Allow them to affect you. Ask what is it there for? What is it trying to say?


 
 
 
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