You Are Not Your Thoughts So Why Do They Feel So True?
In therapy, we sometimes say something that can sound almost a little provocative the first time you hear it:
“You are not your thoughts.”
Most people nod politely. At the same time, many are probably thinking: yes… but some thoughts really do feel completely true. And that’s not surprising. The human brain is very good at making thoughts feel like facts.
Within contextual behavioural science (CBS), a research field that studies how language, behaviour, and experience interact, there are theories that help us understand why thoughts can sometimes feel so convincing. One of the clinical models developed within this field is ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy). It is partly based on Relational Frame Theory (RFT), a theory about how humans create meaning through language and the relationships between words.
But before we go there, it may be easier to start with something a little more ordinary.
When Thoughts Start Guiding Our Choices
I’ve noticed that my brain becomes particularly active when I need to make decisions about home décor. The challenge is that I like quite a lot of different design elements that may not work together. For example, I enjoy white walls and calm rooms where the light has space. At the same time, I’m drawn to patterns — especially William Morris wallpaper, the kind with dense red or blue patterns where flowers and birds wind across the wall. In addition, I love antiques: furniture with history, a bit of patina, and preferably something slightly crooked or unusual. And I appreciate modern conveniences, even though I really feel most comfortable in fairly organized rooms without too much clutter.
My dilemma is that I also love being surrounded by books. The result is that there are often books everywhere. So things can end up being… a bit of everything. Every now and then someone might say something like: “Your taste is a bit… kitsch” or “Wow, this isn’t exactly minimalist”. It’s rarely meant unkindly — more like an observation. Still, my brain is quick to start connecting things.
This is a practical example of how RFT works:
Here is how RFT can play out in practice. Because I like colour, mix old and new, and then hear someone say it’s a bit much, a small chain of thoughts can suddenly start forming in my mind:
My taste is probably a bit kitsch.
↓
If it’s kitsch, maybe that means it’s… bad.
↓
Maybe I have bad taste.
Once that chain gets going, the next thought easily appears when I’m standing there with a colour chart or a wallpaper sample: “I absolutely must not choose the wrong thing.” It’s fascinating how quickly it happens — from a fairly innocent comment to a small internal courtroom judging my aesthetic competence.
However, my home is already full of William Morris wallpaper, antiques, modern conveniences, and books everywhere. So clearly those thoughts aren’t fully in charge. They do show up often, and sometimes try to get the final word, but fortunately they don’t succeed. After all, who wants to decorate their home in order to impress others when you’re the one who actually has to live there?
How the Brain Creates Meaning Through Language (Relational Frame Theory)
The brain creates meaning through language in a process known as Relational Frame Theory (RFT). According to RFT, humans don’t just learn words. We also learn how words relate to each other. Even as children we begin learning relationships such as:
good ↔ bad
better ↔ worse
success ↔ failure
Once these relationships exist in language, the brain automatically begins creating networks of meaning. When two things are connected within such a network, meaning can spread further — a bit like pulling on a thread in a ball of yarn.
In my little decorating example, the network might look something like this:
Kitsch =
→ bad taste
→ poor aesthetic judgement
→ I’ll choose the wrong thing
Suddenly a simple choice — like choosing wallpaper — can start to feel like a test of who I am.
Why Some Thoughts Feel So True
Interesting to note is that language doesn’t only affect how we think. It also affects the body. When the thought “I’m going to choose the wrong thing” appears, the body may react with hesitation, tension, or anxiety. That reaction can make the thought feel even more convincing.
The same thing can happen in other situations. Before giving a presentation, a thought like “I’m going to appear foolish” might show up. When we accept that thought as a fact, the body begins reacting. Our heart rate increases, our shoulders tense up, and the brain starts searching for more evidence.
But if we instead try saying “I notice that I’m having the thought that I’m going to appear foolish,” something small but important often happens. The thought is still there, but it doesn’t feel quite as absolute.
The same thing can happen in the decorating situation. Instead of thinking “I’m going to choose the wrong thing,” we can add a few words: “I notice that I’m having the thought that I’m going to choose the wrong thing.”
The situation itself doesn’t change. But our relationship to the thought does.
When We Get Stuck in Thoughts — Cognitive Fusion
In ACT, the experience of getting stuck in our thoughts is called cognitive fusion. It means that we become so entangled with our thoughts that they feel like literal truths.
When that fusion loosens — something known in ACT as defusion — thoughts begin to appear for what they actually are: mental events that arise in the mind.
The difference may be subtle, but psychologically it can be very important.
How We Can Build More Psychological Flexibility
The encouraging thing is that the brain is not static. It changes continuously through experience. When we do something different, pay attention in a new way, or experiment with behaviours we don’t usually try, different parts of the brain become activated. Over time, new neural pathways can strengthen and new connections between neurons can form.
In neuroscience this is sometimes explained through a principle developed by the Canadian psychologist Donald O. Hebb, often summarized as: “neurons that fire together, wire together”.
This is a simple way of describing how brain plasticity works: when certain neurons activate together repeatedly, the connection between them becomes stronger. In this way, our experiences and behaviours can gradually shape how the brain functions over time.
The brain is constantly developing. At the same time, fear can lead us to repeat behaviours that don’t actually serve us very well. When we follow the same patterns again and again, the neural pathways connected to those behaviours also become stronger. Eventually it can feel as though the brain automatically chooses the same old tracks simply because they are the most familiar ones.
This is where psychological flexibility becomes important. When we begin noticing our thoughts and sometimes choose to act a little differently than we usually would — even when discomfort shows up — we create small opportunities for the brain to build new connections. Gradually, we can develop more of what contextual behavioural science calls psychological flexibility.
When Thoughts No Longer Run the Show
Thoughts don’t disappear when psychological flexibility grows — brains produce stories about as naturally as lungs produce breath. But sometimes a small space can appear between us and the thought. And in that space it often becomes easier to continue doing things that truly matter to us.
This is often how our brains work. They create stories from words, experiences, and small comments we hear along the way. Sometimes those stories can feel very convincing, almost like truths about who we are.
But if we pause for a moment, we may begin to notice something else. What is happening isn’t always fact. Often it is simply the brain doing what it does best — creating meaning. And when we notice that, we sometimes gain a little more freedom in how we choose to respond.
For example, we might still decide to put up that wallpaper with flowers and birds after all.
