What are thoughts, really?

Thoughts are interesting things—especially when we start thinking about them. That process is called metacognition, and we do it all the time without realizing it.

For example, if I have a session with a new client that seems to go well, I might think, “Damn, I’m a really good therapist.” Then maybe the very next session feels clunky, and my mind offers, “I’m a fraud.”

My mind clearly has no trouble generating contradictory thoughts. Yet by the rules of logic, I can’t be both a good therapist and a fraud at the same time. Because we’re taught that thinking should be rational and consistent, noticing opposing thoughts tends to grab our attention and feels like a problem that needs solving.

Here’s the key point: it only feels like a problem because we’ve learned that inconsistency is unacceptable. Once my mind decides something is irrational, it assumes there must be a mistake—and that mistake must be corrected. And this is where humans reliably go wrong.

When two incompatible thoughts show up, we tend to assume that one of them must be true. One must be the “real me,” and the other must be a lie. Because the mind hates uncertainty, it treats this question as urgent and threatening. Rumination often follows.

We usually think of rumination as a symptom of anxiety. From an ACT perspective, it’s often an attempted solution to anxiety—just not a very workable one. Rumination shows up when the mind is trying to answer questions like: Am I a good therapist or a fraud? Which one is the real me?

That’s a huge, mostly invisible assumption: that judgments must somehow define who we are. Once we take that bait, we can burn enormous amounts of time and energy arguing with ourselves—sometimes even pulling our attention away from what actually matters, like the people and things that give our lives meaning.

Let’s look at a few common assumptions about thoughts—and why they tend to get us stuck.

Assumption 1: My thoughts are supposed to be rational, linear, and coherent

Rational thinking is one of the great tools of human cognition. But it’s a mistake to assume that all thoughts should be rational all the time.

We often say humans are rational creatures, but it’s probably more accurate to say we’re rationalizing creatures. Rational thought is a tool—not our default setting. Minds routinely generate contradictory, emotional, or half-baked ideas, sometimes within the same minute.

Many clients take this as evidence that something is wrong with them. They assume mental health means having thoughts that line up neatly—accurate, consistent, and logical. But there’s no correlation between mental health and having tidy thoughts.

When someone thinks, “Part of me wants to leave my job, and part of me wants to stay,” that isn’t pathology. It’s evidence that something important is at stake. Values are involved. The mind is throwing ideas at the wall in an effort to help.

So when your thoughts feel polarized or confusing, notice that. You don’t need to fix or eliminate them. Often, they’re simply part of the process of choosing a direction in life.

Assumption 2: If a thought shows up—even one I don’t believe—it might be true

My clients often say things like:

• “I feel like a failure, but I know that’s not true.”

• “I feel like a bad mom/dad/partner, even though I try so hard.”

From an ACT perspective, these statements blur important distinctions. When someone says “I feel like a failure,” what’s usually happening is this:

1. A thought shows up: “I’m a failure.”

2. Painful emotions follow—often sadness, fear, or anger.

3. The person struggles with both the thought and the feelings.

4. That struggle keeps everything stuck—or amplifies it.

An ACT translation of “I feel like a bad mom” might sound like:

• I have the thought that I’m a bad mom.

• When that thought shows up, I feel sad and afraid.

• Being a good mom really matters to me.

• I fight these thoughts and feelings constantly, but they keep coming back.

Notice the assumption underneath all of this: If a thought shows up, I must take it seriously. The mind says, If it weren’t true, why would it be here?

But is that actually true?

Let’s test it.

A quick experiment

Place your hand on the table or arm of your chair.

Now bring this thought into your mind: “I can’t raise my hand.”Really hold onto it. Try to believe it.

While holding that thought, raise your hand above your head.

Almost everyone can do this without any problem. You didn’t need to change the thought. You didn’t need to make it go away. You didn’t need to distract yourself or numb out. You simply noticed the thought—and acted anyway.

At the level of language, “I can’t raise my hand” and “I’m a failure” are the same kind of thing: thoughts. The difference is that one carries more emotional history.

Many people delay meaningful action because they believe they must first eliminate painful thoughts. I’ll apply for the job once I stop thinking I’m a failure. I’ll pursue a relationship once I feel confident.

This gives thoughts far more power than they actually have.

You’ve probably heard the phrase “Don’t believe everything you think.” It’s good advice. When a painful thought shows up, remember: you can carry it with you—and still move.

Assumption 3: I should be able to control my thoughts

This assumption often shows up as a solution to the earlier ones. If painful thoughts are irrational and dangerous, then surely mental health means controlling them—right?

Let’s try another experiment.

Imagine you’re sitting in my office and notice a suitcase in the corner filled with $1 million in cash. I offer you a deal: if you can go one week without thinking about a purple moose, the money is yours. And yes—I’ll know if you fail.

Most people admit they’ve already lost within seconds. The harder you try not to think about something, the more persistent it becomes. Suppression backfires.

If you can’t control a silly thought introduced by a therapist, what makes you think you should be able to control deep, painful ones like “I’m a bad mom” or “I’m a failure”?

And notice this: you probably aren’t beating yourself up for failing the purple moose test. Yet when a painful self-judgment shows up, many people pile shame on top of it: What’s wrong with me? I should be able to stop this.

ACT starts from a different place. You don’t need to control your thoughts. You don’t need to replace them with positive ones. You don’t need to win arguments with your mind.

Instead, ACT teaches skills for relating differently to thoughts.

One of the simplest is this:

“I notice I’m having the thought that…”

So “I’m a bad mom/dad/partner” becomes“I notice I’m having the thought that I’m a bad mom/dad/partner.”

That second statement is a fact. The first is a judgment. ACT helps you step out of the struggle to prove or disprove thoughts so you can invest your energy where it actually matters—your values.

Thoughts Are Not Things

Most of us intuitively understand that a thought about a thing is not the thing itself. A thought of a tree isn’t a tree.

Yet we often forget this when it comes to thoughts about ourselves. If thoughts about trees aren’t trees, then thoughts about being a failure aren’t failures either.

Even if there are changes you want to make in your life, a negative thought about yourself is still just a thought. It isn’t you.

ACT isn’t about convincing you that your painful thoughts are false. It’s about helping you live well—even when they show up.

When you stop giving thoughts power simply because they appear, you free up time, energy, and attention for what matters most.