Sarah prides herself on being realistic. “Look, I’m clear eyed about how the world works. It’s a dangerous place filled with dangerous people.” She plans for worst-case scenarios and assumes people will always take advantage of her. Sarah is convinced that her realism is protecting her from being ill-prepared and considers herself a realist in a world full of naive optimists.

Sarah’s perspective illustrates something I increasingly see in my practice: people who believe their pessimism is protecting when it’s actually imprisoning them. What they call “being realistic” has become a form of cognitive self-sabotage. It’s making them miserable and, paradoxically, less prepared for actual challenges.

All too often, outright pessimism is wearing a cloak of realism. But there is nothing realistic about defeatism and hopelessness. If anything it’s an on-ramp for depression and anxiety. Plus, emerging research suggests that those “naive optimists” might actually be the ones who are better equipped to handle whatever comes their way.

Your Beliefs Are Writing Your Story

Psychologist Jeremy Clifton at the University of Pennsylvania has spent years studying what he calls “primal world beliefs” — our deepest assumptions about whether the world is fundamentally safe or dangerous, meaningful or meaningless, abundant or scarce. His research reveals that these beliefs don’t just reflect our experiences; they actively create them.

Clifton and his team discovered that our most basic assumptions about reality—whether life is generally safe or dangerous, whether people are trustworthy or suspicious, whether the future holds promise or peril—function like invisible software running in the background of our minds.

Consider two people stuck in the same traffic jam. The first thinks, “This is typical. Nothing ever goes smoothly.” The second thinks, “This gives me time to listen to that podcast I’ve been meaning to catch up on.” Same situation, completely different internal experience, and ultimately, different outcomes for their day.

Clifton’s research shows systematic patterns in how we fundamentally view the way the world works. And here’s the kicker: people who believe the world is generally safe, meaningful, and full of possibilities don’t just feel better. They actually perform better, innovate more, and build stronger relationships.

How Your Brain Creates Your Reality

It’s not just theoretical. Brain imaging studies show that people with more positive primal beliefs, or those who see the world as generally safe and meaningful, have greater activity in regions associated with approach behaviors and creative problem-solving. Meanwhile, those who view the world as threatening show chronic activation in areas linked to stress and avoidance.

Assumptions don’t just color how we interpret events; they actively shape what we notice, remember, and expect. Someone who fundamentally believes the world is deteriorating will unconsciously seek out evidence of decline. Someone who believes it’s improving will notice progress and possibility.

Put simply, Sarah’s “realistic” preparation for problems isn’t making her more effective. It’s training her brain to expect and create even more problems.

Why Catastrophizing Became Cool

Visit many classrooms today and you’ll notice a troubling pattern: young people are learning about the world’s problems without equal emphasis on humanity’s capacity to solve them.

Students study climate change before they learn about the innovations addressing it. They focus on historical injustices before they explore human progress. They’re taught to identify systemic problems before they develop skills to create solutions.

Somewhere along the way, catastrophizing became culturally fashionable. Being the person who points out everything that could go wrong is now seen as being “aware” or “informed.” Meanwhile, those who focus on solutions or express optimism about the future are often dismissed as naive or privileged.

This cultural shift has turned pessimism into a virtue and optimism into a character flaw. We’ve created a social environment where doom-saying signals intelligence and hope-mongering suggests ignorance.

We tell ourselves this is “preparing our children for reality.” But what if we’re actually preparing them for depression?

The statistics are sobering: rates of anxiety and hopelessness among teenagers have skyrocketed over the past decade, even as many objective measures of human wellbeing have improved. Could there be a connection between how we’re framing the world and how young people are responding to it?

Shift Your Perspective

By changing the questions you ask yourself and the stories you tell, you can train your brain to focus less on problems and more on possibilities. Strategic optimism isn’t about pretending problems don’t exist. It’s about approaching them from a position of agency rather than helplessness.

These five mindset shifts are simple but powerful ways to reframe your thinking:

1. Start With Possibility, Not Problems

Instead of starting conversations with problems, start with potential. Yes, acknowledge challenges, but immediately pivot to exploring options. Your brain will follow your questions.

“What’s wrong?” → “What’s possible?”

This shift primes your mind to search for openings instead of obstacles.

2. Treat Setbacks as Information, Not Evidence of Decline

When facing setbacks, resist the urge to see them as evidence of decline. Instead, treat them as data points that can inform better strategies.

“This always happens to me.” → “This is new information that will help me improve my approach.”

Each challenge becomes a stepping stone when you view it as data, not destiny.

3. Build Capacity Instead of Preparing for Catastrophe

Stop rehearsing worst-case scenarios as if fear equals preparation.

“I need to prepare for the worst.” → “I need to build capacity for whatever comes.”

The goal isn’t to predict specific outcomes. It’s to develop the skills, relationships, and resilience to handle uncertainty effectively.

4. Move Conversations Forward with “Yes, and…”

When a concern shows up in your mind or in conversation, acknowledge it but don’t stop there.

“This is a problem.” → “Yes, this is challenging, and what might be possible here?”

This approach keeps your thinking flexible, future-focused, and solutions-oriented.

5. Collect Evidence of What’s Working

Train your brain to notice progress, not just problems. Each week, be deliberate about spotting moments that went better than expected.

“Nothing ever goes right.” → “There’s more going right than I’m noticing.”

Over time, your brain learns that positive outcomes are normal, not rare exceptions.

The Ripple Effect

When you shift your worldview from scarcity to possibility, something remarkable happens: not only do you feel better, you become a source of energy and innovation for others.

Your children stop seeing the future as something to fear and start seeing it as something to create. Your colleagues approach challenges with curiosity rather than dread. Your friends gravitate toward you during difficult times because you help them remember what’s possible.

This isn’t about being unrealistic; it’s about being strategically realistic. It’s acknowledging that humans have remarkable capacity for adaptation, that creative solutions exist for most problems, and that we have more power to shape our future than we often realize.

The Choice We All Face

As Sarah is beginning to realize, every day, we’re making a choice about what kind of world we’re creating; not just for ourselves, but for everyone around us.

We can focus on everything that’s broken and train our brains to expect more breakdown. Or we can acknowledge problems while maintaining unshakeable faith in human capacity to address them.

The research is clear: people who choose the second path don’t just feel better—they perform better, innovate more, and contribute more to actually solving the problems we all care about.

Every conversation you have, every story you tell, every reaction you have to challenges are votes for the kind of world you want to live in. When you choose hope over despair, and possibility over paralysis, you’re not just helping yourself. You’re creating the conditions for others to thrive too.

Growing up, I was not allowed to use the word “hate.” It was considered a four-letter word in our house. “Dislike” was perfectly fine, but “hate” was verboten. It was my beloved nanny who made this rule, and it applied to everything from broccoli to people.

She believed that hating said more about the hater than the object being hated. In her view, hating something gave it both power and permanence. If I hated my third-grade classmate Stacy for not inviting me to her birthday party, my nanny worried that the sentiment might creep into my everyday existence, coloring all future interactions—or even non-interactions—with Stacy.

If I hated something or someone, she reasoned, it would be virtually impossible to change my mind. But if I merely disliked it? Well then, maybe—just maybe—I might come around. Maybe they would change. Maybe I would. Maybe I would see things differently one day.

Dislike leaves the door open. Hate slams it closed.

For the record, Stacy and I became friends a few weeks later. I still dislike broccoli.

At the very least, my nanny argued, making the decision not to hate kept things in perspective. Disliking something was passive, but hating was active—it was work. She liked to quote Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous words: “I have decided to stick to love… Hate is too great a burden to bear.”

If the word hate rolled off my tongue too easily, she worried it might also take up residence in my heart. And once there, it would become harder to shift.

My nanny believed that words had power, but she also knew they weren’t all-powerful. If someone said something hateful, her advice was simple: don’t dwell on it. She subscribed to that old adage: “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” I suspect she would have agreed with the sentiment that words are not violence—only violence is violence. She was a big believer in giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, assuming positive intent, and not judging people in their worst moments.

Every Sunday, Reverend Jeremy Carlson gives this blessing at the end of the service, and it always makes me think of how my nanny approached life and treated everyone she encountered, even those with whom she disagreed:

Life is short, And we do not have much time to gladden the hearts of those who make the journey with us. So… be swift to love, and make haste to be kind.

Please read that twice. Consider committing it to memory.

I call on this message whenever I need to be reminded of the importance of strengthening our connection with those we travel alongside and those whose paths we cross, however briefly.

My nanny’s simple rule about avoiding the word “hate” was never really about vocabulary; it was about perspective. When we catch ourselves reaching for that word, whether about a person, situation, or even Brussels Sprouts, we can pause and ask: What am I really feeling here? Disappointment? Frustration? Fear? Anger?

These more specific emotions are not only more accurate, they’re also more manageable. You can work with disappointment. You can address frustration. You can understand fear. But hate just sits there, heavy and immovable, taking up space in your head and heart that could be used for something far more productive.

So try this: For one week, notice when you’re tempted to use the word “hate”—whether in conversation or even in your own thoughts. Replace it with something more precise. See what shifts. You might discover that leaving the door open just a crack lets the light in.

Every August, the same ritual begins. Parents frantically Google “back-to-school anxiety tips.” Schools send home preparation checklists. Mental health experts publish articles about the “inevitable” stress of returning to the classroom. We’re told children are “bound to experience” anxiety, that the transition will be “jarring,” and that we must watch for behavioral warning signs indicating distress.

But what if all this well-intentioned preparation is backfiring? What if, by treating back-to-school as an inherently stressful experience requiring extensive emotional support, we’re actually teaching our children to expect, and therefore experience, exactly that stress?

The Expectation Effect in Action

Research on the expectation effect reveals a powerful truth: our predictions about experiences often become self-fulfilling prophecies. When we expect pain during a medical procedure, we feel more pain. When we expect a social interaction to be awkward, it becomes awkward. And when we spend weeks preparing children for the “stress” and “anxiety” of returning to school, we’re essentially training their brains to anticipate and create those very experiences.

Consider the language saturating back-to-school messaging. Experts warn about the social and emotional “summer slide“—as if children regress during vacation. Middle school transitions are described as inevitably difficult, with parents advised to prepare for the shock of “multiple teachers for different subjects.” We’re told to monitor for “uncharacteristic sleep disturbances” and “increased defiance” as signs of back-to-school anxiety.

The irony is striking: in our effort to protect children from stress, we’re potentially manufacturing it.

Image: Jason Patterson / The New Yorker

When Normal Becomes Pathological

There’s nothing inherently traumatic about getting a new teacher, walking between classrooms, or adjusting sleep schedules. Humans are remarkably adaptable creatures, especially children. For millions of kids throughout history, September simply meant returning to learning, no extensive emotional preparation required.

Yet today’s messaging suggests that without careful intervention, children will inevitably struggle. One recent article opens with a detailed case study of a nine-year-old “feeling anxious as the school year approaches,” immediately priming readers to expect similar struggles in their own children. Parents are warned to watch for a laundry list of concerning behaviors: “headaches, nausea, fatigue” or children who “seek continual reassurance about what their school days will look like.”

We’re pathologizing normal developmental experiences, turning routine adjustments into cause for concern. A child who seems quiet after the first day isn’t just processing new experiences, they’re showing “warning signs.” A kid who takes time to warm up to their teacher isn’t displaying normal social caution, they need “support strategies.”

The Confidence Gap

When we constantly prepare children for difficulties they haven’t yet encountered, we inadvertently communicate a lack of confidence in their abilities. The subtext of endless preparation is clear: “This is going to be hard for you. You probably can’t handle it without help.”

Children are intuitive. They pick up on our anxiety, our excessive planning, our worried expressions during “practice runs” to school buildings. They internalize the message that going back to school is something to fear rather than anticipate or even look forward to.

Research on academic mindset shows that children perform better when adults express confidence in their capabilities rather than constantly preparing them for failure. Yet our current approach does the opposite, it primes children to expect struggle and positions us as the experts on their emotional states rather than trusting them to navigate new experiences.

The Rumination Trap

When we encourage children to identify their negative feelings about school, monitor their anxiety levels, and prepare for social difficulties, we’re inadvertently teaching them to ruminate by repeatedly focusing on potential negative outcomes. Put simply, excessive focus on potential problems increases their likelihood.

Studies show that rumination is a key factor in developing anxiety and depression. By encouraging children to constantly examine their emotional states and prepare for difficulties, we’re training them in a thinking pattern that’s linked to poor mental health outcomes. One expert actually advises parents to watch for subtle behavioral shifts like a child having “a more difficult time falling asleep” or finding previously enjoyable activities “particularly challenging,” essentially teaching hypervigilance about normal fluctuations in mood and behavior.

What Actually Helps

A more effective approach is to trust children’s natural resilience and address problems if and when they actually arise, rather than creating elaborate systems to monitor and manage difficulties that may never materialize.

This isn’t an argument for negligent parenting or ignoring genuine difficulties. Some children do face real challenges with school transitions, and they deserve support. But for most kids, the best back-to-school preparation is surprisingly simple:

1. Express Confidence

   Instead of asking, “Are you worried about school?” try “What are you looking forward to this year?” Rather than preparing for problems, communicate your belief in their capabilities.

2. Keep It Routine

   Treat back-to-school like any other seasonal transition. Adjust bedtimes gradually, buy supplies, meet the teacher. No drama required.

3. Model Calm

   Children regulate their emotions based on the adults around them. If you’re anxious about their return to school, they will be too. If you’re matter-of-fact and positive, they’re likely to follow suit.

4. Trust the Process

   Most children adapt to new situations within days or weeks, regardless of preparation. Human beings are wired for adaptation—it’s what we do best.

Rewriting the Narrative

Imagine if we approached back-to-school with the same energy we bring to other positive life transitions. Instead of articles about managing anxiety, what if we celebrated children’s growth and new opportunities? Rather than preparing for problems, what if we focused on possibilities?

The shift isn’t just semantic; it’s psychological. When we expect positive outcomes, we’re more likely to achieve them. When we approach challenges with curiosity rather than dread, we build resilience rather than fragility.

Our children are watching. They’re learning not just academic subjects, but also how to approach life’s transitions. Are we teaching them that new experiences are threats to be carefully managed, or adventures to be embraced?

The Bottom Line

Going back to school isn’t a mental health crisis. It’s September. Children have been doing it successfully for generations without extensive emotional preparation. Research on resilience shows that children are far more adaptable than our current anxiety-focused messaging suggests.

By treating normal transitions as inherently problematic, we risk creating the very difficulties we’re trying to prevent. The most powerful gift we can give our children isn’t another coping strategy or anxiety management technique; it’s our confidence in their ability to handle whatever comes their way.

Sarah sits across from me, visibly frustrated. “I’ve been setting boundaries with my mom like everyone says I should,” she explains, “but now she won’t talk to me at all. My old therapist said it was progress but I feel worse than ever.”

This scene plays out daily in therapy offices across the country. What started as legitimate psychological concepts—boundaries, trauma, narcissism, gaslighting—have been simplified, sanitized, and scattered across social media until they’ve lost much of their original meaning. The result? A generation fluent in therapy-speak but struggling with the messy reality of human relationships.

The Boundary Industrial Complex

Perhaps no concept has been more weaponized than “setting boundaries.” Instagram therapists present it as a panacea: feeling overwhelmed? Set boundaries. Family drama? Set boundaries. Difficult boss? You know the drill.

But here’s what the memes and armchair experts don’t tell you: boundaries aren’t always the answer.

Take Michael, a 28-year-old who lives with his parents while saving for a house. “I keep reading that I need to set boundaries around their questions about my dating life,” he tells me. “But I live in their house, eat their food, and they’re genuinely worried about me being lonely. Maybe the boundary I need isn’t with them, but with my own discomfort about being single.”

Research in relationship science shows that healthy relationships require both autonomy and connection. When we overemphasize boundaries at the expense of interdependence, we risk creating what psychologist Eli Finkel calls “suffocation model” relationships—connections so focused on individual needs that they can’t sustain the give-and-take that makes relationships meaningful.

The Trauma Trap

The overuse of trauma language presents another challenge. Clinical trauma—the kind that rewires your nervous system and fragments memory—is a specific psychological phenomenon. But in popular usage, “trauma” has expanded to include any negative or uncomfortable experience.

Lisa, a college student, came to therapy convinced she was “traumatized” by her parents’ divorce when she was 16. “Everyone on TikTok says divorce is childhood trauma,” she explained. While divorce is undeniably difficult for children, not every difficult experience creates lasting psychological injury. By labeling all challenges as traumatic, we lose sight of the learning and growth that often accompany them.

This isn’t to minimize real trauma or suggest that stressful experiences don’t matter. Rather, it’s to recognize that overusing clinical language can paradoxically make us less equipped to handle life’s inevitable difficulties.

The Narcissist Next Door

“My sister is such a narcissist,” David tells me, describing his sibling’s tendency to dominate family conversations. When we dig deeper, it becomes clear that his sister isn’t pathologically self-absorbed—she’s anxious and uses talking as a way to manage her discomfort in social situations. The narcissist label allows David to disregard her rather than address the underlying family dynamics or have a direct conversation.

Research by psychologist Keith Campbell shows that true narcissism involves a specific pattern of grandiosity, entitlement, and lack of empathy that goes far beyond everyday selfishness or insensitivity. When we label normal human flaws as personality disorders, we shut down the possibility of understanding, empathy, and change.

The Gaslighting Epidemic

Perhaps no term has been more diluted than “gaslighting.” Originally describing a specific pattern of psychological manipulation designed to make someone question their reality, it’s now applied to any disagreement or different perspective.

“My husband is gaslighting me,” Amanda reports, explaining that he disagrees with her assessment of their teenage son’s behavior. But disagreement isn’t gaslighting. Having a different perspective isn’t manipulation. When we pathologize normal conflict, we lose the skills needed to navigate disagreement constructively.

Real gaslighting is insidious and harmful, involving deliberate attempts to undermine someone’s perception of reality. Casual disagreement, even heated disagreement, is just part of being human.

Why We’re Drawn to Therapy-Speak

The appeal of psychological language is understandable. It offers the illusion of clarity in complex situations and provides a sense of control over chaotic emotions. There’s comfort in having a label for difficult experiences, and therapy language has given many people permission to prioritize their mental health in ways previous generations couldn’t.

But like any powerful tool, psychological concepts can be misused. When we apply clinical frameworks to everyday challenges, we risk what psychologist Nick Haslam calls “concept creep”—the gradual expansion of psychological terms beyond their original meaning until they lose their utility.

A Better Way Forward

The goal isn’t to abandon psychological insights—they’ve revolutionized our understanding of human behavior and helped millions of people. Instead, we need more nuanced applications of these concepts.

Rather than automatically “setting boundaries,” consider whether the situation calls for boundaries, communication, compromise, acceptance or all the above.

Instead of labeling difficult people with personality disorders, try understanding their behavior in context.

Before declaring something traumatic, ask whether reframing the experience as challenging but manageable might be more empowering.

This doesn’t mean returning to the “just get over it” mentality of previous generations. Think of it like the difference between having a box of eight crayons versus a set of 64 colors. Both can create a picture, but one allows for far more nuance and accuracy. When we rely solely on broad therapeutic labels, we’re working with the eight-crayon box—everything gets colored with “trauma,” “boundaries,” or “toxic.” When you upgrade to the full palette, you can make fine distinctions between different emotional states and respond with precision rather than broad strokes.

Reclaiming Nuance

The most profound insights in psychology aren’t simple. They require us to hold multiple truths simultaneously: that we need both connection and autonomy, that difficult experiences can be both harmful and growth-promoting, that other people can be both flawed and worthy of compassion.

Sarah, the client struggling with her mother, eventually learned that her situation called not for rigid boundaries but for clear communication about her needs and values. Michael discovered that living with his parents required negotiating shared space rather than creating walls. David found that understanding his sister’s anxiety made family gatherings more tolerable for everyone.

These solutions aren’t as satisfying as simple formulas, but they’re more honest about the complexity of human relationships. In a world increasingly hungry for quick fixes and clear villains, perhaps the most radical act is embracing the messy, ambiguous, ultimately hopeful reality of being human.

If you live in New York City, it is not unusual to meet someone who has been in talk therapy for over a decade. “I started in my twenties after my dad died and just kept going,” explained Rob. For years, he had a standing appointment at 6pm every Tuesday with Dr. M. “It was like a reserved parking space in a garage,” he fondly recalled. “That hour was for me to talk about me.” Now 40, Rob came to see me because Dr. M recently retired and moved to Florida and he was in search of a new therapist.

During our initial consultation, Rob talked about the stress of having two kids under the age of ten and some challenges at work but nothing that wasn’t manageable. He and his wife bickered sometimes but overall had a loving and supportive relationship. There was no evidence of depression or an anxiety disorder nor was there a history of a serious mental health issue. One of the biggest stressors in his life was time. Or more accurately, the feeling of not having enough of it—to finish work, to be with his family, to exercise, to see friends.

What I told Rob surprised him. I explained that I didn’t think he needed ongoing treatment. My door would always be open if something came up, but I didn’t believe that spending an hour each week on a therapist’s couch was necessarily the best use of his time. The stress he described in his life was normal, natural, and he seemed perfectly capable of handling it. Why not use that extra hour to have an early dinner with his family or catch up with a friend or go for a walk in the park? Rob was taken aback by my suggestion. Treatment had become a part of his weekly routine, a sacred block on his Tuesday schedule. It never occurred to him to stop.

Therapy Is a Tool, Not a Lifestyle

Rob’s story is not unique. People typically start therapy for a specific reason and tend to continue long after the issue has been resolved. While therapy can be helpful, in my experience it is most effective as a tool to help navigate a challenging situation. Except in rare cases, treatment doesn’t need to last forever.

As Weill Cornell psychiatrist Dr. Richard A. Friedman wrote in an article in the Atlantic entitled Plenty of People Could Quit Therapy Right Now, talk therapy is not designed for long term use. The point of therapy is to learn the skills to feel and function well enough on your own.

I often say that my goal with patients is to put myself out of business—in other words, for them to get to a place where they feel self-reliant and confident dealing with the ups and downs of their daily lives. I do not know of any evidence showing that being in treatment “just because” is helpful, unless of course there is a complex mental health disorder. There is even reason to believe that in the absence of acute symptoms, talk therapy might do more harm than good.

As Friedman observes,

“Excessive self-focus—easily facilitated in a setting in which you’re literally paying to talk about your feelings—can increase your anxiety, especially when it substitutes for tangible actions. If your neurotic or depressive symptoms are relatively mild (meaning they don’t really interfere with your daily functioning), you might be better served by spending less time in a therapist’s office and more time connecting with friends, pursuing a hobby, or volunteering.”

Put simply, instead of talking with a professional on a weekly basis about what’s bothering you, engaging in tangible actions that align with your values may be a more reliable way to give yourself a boost.

What Actually Improves Mental Health?

A recent study of over 600 adults identified 15 everyday mentally protective behaviors that improve wellbeing, no couch time required.

1. Visiting family
2. Spending time in nature
3. Participating in physical activity
4. Getting together with friends or work mates
5. Attendance at community events
6. Contact with informal/formal groups
7. Attendance at large public events
8. Doing challenging activities
9. Influence of religion
10. Involvement in cause-related groups
11. Volunteering
12. Engaging in spiritual activities
13. Doing activities that require thinking or concentration
14. Talking or chatting people with people outside your home (including online)
15. Helping others

These activities are more than just feel-good suggestions. They’re evidence-backed pathways to resilience.

A Little Therapy Can Go a Long Way

To be clear, I am not anti-therapy. I am anti-therapy culture. I believe therapy works best when it is targeted and purposeful.

For example, Cognitive Based Therapy (CBT)—the gold standard for anxiety and depression—is a goal-oriented, short term treatment typically lasting between 10 and 20 sessions.

There is also evidence that just one meeting with a therapist can be effective. One study found that a single solution-focused session was associated with improvements in hopelessness, agency, and psychological distress.

In other words, a little therapy can go a long way to helping a person feel better. It does not require the time, cost, and potential pitfalls of ongoing “just because” treatment.

Beginning or Ending Therapy: Questions Worth Asking

f you are starting treatment for the first time, be clear about your goals, inquire about expected length of treatment and track your progress.

If you have been in therapy for a long time and have not had any symptoms for over 6 months, it might be time to take a break. Here are a few questions to consider:

• Have I met the goals that brought me to therapy? What have I achieved in therapy, or what specifically has changed in accordance with my goals?
• What key changes can I identify in myself, my life, and my relationships that suggest I’ve grown through therapy?
• Why am I thinking or feeling that this might be a good time to end therapy? Is my assessment based on feelings in the moment, or a more continuous and overarching feeling of readiness and progress towards my goals?
• What support might I need to continue my positive change, growth, and development after I end therapy?

Wellbeing Is Built on Action, Not Analysis

This logic seems flawed to me. The assumption that therapy is the only signal of an emotionally balanced person and the only route towards wellbeing misses what I believe to be the secret ingredient of mental health: relationships with others.

There are many ways to be serious about your mental health and to signal to others that you are serious about your mental health. Instead of asking “are you in therapy?” say “tell me about the people in your life you are close to.” A person’s answer will tell you a great deal about who they are.

The paradox of modern therapy culture is that in our quest to understand ourselves, we may be missing the very thing that makes us whole: genuine connection with others and purposeful engagement with the world around us. Sometimes the best way to get out of your head is to get into the world.

There are plenty of reasons to want to boost one’s confidence. Confident people have better relationships and are more likely to get ahead at work and achieve more academically. They are even perceived as more attractive. It’s no wonder that one of the top reasons people go to therapy is to become more confident.

But here’s something that might surprise you. Confidence isn’t a feeling. It’s a practice.

Confident people prepare, they work hard, they still get nervous and suffer from imposter syndrome … but they’ve learned to take action anyway. The difference isn’t that they feel more ready than everyone else. It’s that they understand confidence comes from doing, not waiting to feel ready.

I was reminded of this during a session with Sabrina, a new patient whose boss had told her she should be more assertive and speak up in meetings. She came to therapy convinced that we needed to excavate her past in order to understand why she was so quiet. Was it her three older brothers who dominated dinner conversations? Her parents’ divorce when she was 16? The soccer coach in high school who only cared about winning? The breakup with her boyfriend of two years because he felt their long distance relationship wasn’t working?

The list went on and on…

What Actually Builds Confidence

Here’s what I explained to Sabrina: There is no amount of talking or thinking about confidence that will actually build it. What builds confidence is doing things. We gain confidence when we try to do something and succeed at it.

Sure, it’s easier to sit and talk about the causes of one’s limitations than to take action to change them. All too often, this is what people do in therapy—focusing on the past and striving to understand the forces that shaped us. What this ignores is our ability to make our own choices and shape our present. Yes, believing in yourself and having others believe in you can help but it is only by putting yourself out there and taking action that you embolden and empower yourself.

The Confidence Myth That’s Holding You Back

Most people think they need to feel confident before taking action. But confident people have figured out that action comes first, confidence follows. For example, it is from giving speeches that I began to feel better about my ability to give a good speech.

Discussing one’s problems and finger pointing rather than taking concrete steps to make a change can leave you in limbo. I think of it as the equivalent of sitting in an airport lounge waiting for the announcement that it’s boarding time. In some ways, it’s comfortable with the endless supply of bottled water and snacks but it’s not time well spent. It’s an “as soon as” existence which is rarely a rewarding one.

I suggested to Sabrina that rather than talking about why she doesn’t speak up, that she could just begin by speaking up in meetings. That’s the key. Stop talking about doing it. Stop thinking about doing it. Just begin.

Here are 7 science-backed strategies to help you take meaningful action, starting today.

1. Start Before You Feel Ready

Think of confidence like a muscle. It strengthens through repetition, not through rest. Each time you speak up, try something new, or push through discomfort, you’re doing psychological reps that reinforce a positive feedback loop: effort → action → evidence → growth.

The magic happens in the gap between “I’m not ready” and “I’m doing it anyway.”

2. Design Your Personal Confidence Challenge

Here’s a simple yet effective exercise I use with clients to train their confidence muscle: Creating a Confidence Challenge—a short list of areas they want to grow in, paired with specific action steps.

Want to speak up more in meetings? Try being the first to suggest an idea this week. Want to get more confident in the kitchen? Pick a new recipe and make it tonight. Want to feel less anxious about public speaking? Practice giving a toast at dinner with friends.

The goal isn’t perfection, it’s momentum. Small wins create the psychological foundation for bigger ones.

3. Hack Your Nervous System (The “I’m Excited” Trick)

Your body produces identical physiological responses to fear and excitement—it’s the same racing heart, sweaty palms, and butterflies in your stomach.

The only difference is the story you tell yourself about what those sensations mean. Harvard researcher Alison Wood Brooks found that people who said “I’m excited” before a performance consistently outperformed those who tried to calm down.

Your nervous system is already revved up so why not use that energy to your advantage.

4. Look Back to Move Forward

As Adam Grant writes, “Confidence doesn’t always come from believing in yourself today. It often stems from recalling the obstacles you overcame yesterday.”

When imposter syndrome starts whispering that you’re not qualified, flip the script. Remember the project you thought was impossible but pulled off? That speech you were terrified to give but nailed? The difficult conversation you navigated with grace?

You’ve been building evidence of your capabilities your entire life. Don’t let self-doubt erase the data.

5. Strike a Power Pose

Stand up right now. Roll your shoulders back, lift your chin, and smile like you just accomplished something amazing. Notice how you already feel different?

Research shows that our physical posture doesn’t just reflect our mental state—it actively shapes it. When we stand tall, we don’t just look more confident; we actually feel more confident. It’s like giving yourself a shot of liquid courage, minus the hangover.

6. Channel Your Inner Superhero

“Just be yourself” might be the worst advice ever given to someone struggling with confidence. When imposter syndrome is loud, being yourself feels like the last thing you want to do.

Instead, try this: Think of someone who embodies the qualities you want to cultivate. How would they walk into this room? Speak in this meeting? Handle this challenge? Maybe it’s a mentor, a friend, or even a fictional character—the key is to borrow their mindset until you develop your own.

It’s not about being fake; it’s about stretching beyond your current self-concept to become who you’re capable of being.

7. Delete “I Think” From Your Vocabulary

If you want to sound and feel more confident, pay attention to the language you use. One simple shift can make a huge difference: stop saying “I think” when you have a clear opinion.

Instead of saying “I think we should eat here,” say “I recommend we eat here.” Instead of “I think this might work,” say “Let’s try this.”

Confident language doesn’t just change how others hear you—it changes how you see yourself.

What Happens When We Stop Analyzing and Start Acting

Confidence grows by doing, not thinking. Whether it’s raising your hand, sharing your idea, or stepping outside your comfort zone, each small act builds the belief that you can handle more than you thought.

The leap comes first.

The confidence comes later.