The Bully In My Brain
May 01, 2025 06:00AM ● By Tommy Housworth
I confess. I am the world’s biggest bully, but only toward one person. That person is, unfortunately, myself. It’s often said that we would never talk to others the way we talk to ourselves, and that is certainly the case for me. Too often, in moments of frustration, phrases like “I’m an idiot!” cascade through my brain. Those little mental monologues add up, and over time, I start to buy into the narrative.
But it’s not just self-deprecation. I often define myself by my negative emotions: “I am anxious,” “I am depressed,” “I am terrified.” The words we use matter (as my wife often reminds me), and these little mental imprints take their toll. It has often been said that we become who we believe we are. Given that, it’s a wonder I have any self-esteem left at all. As The National—my favorite sad dad group—sings, my mind is not my friend.
A few years ago, I was given a transformative tool that has helped me—on good days, at least—learn to reframe my negative thinking. While it hasn’t completely kept the bully at bay, the technique has helped me become, as Dan Harris would say, “10 percent happier.”
In early 2021, I was midway through a 300-hour mindfulness teacher training program, and one of my instructors—a delightfully grounded gentleman named Jim—shared an approach often used in cognitive therapy, which was a true game changer. The technique is most often called “cognitive defusion.”
The essence of the practice is to first notice when a thought that’s entwined in identity arises: “I am depressed,” “I am anxious,” “I am a failure.” Then, quickly reframe it so the thought isn’t “me.” So, it becomes, “I am having the thought that I am anxious.” Ah… Now, it’s just a thought; it’s not “me.” The final step reframes the thinking as: “I am noticing I am having the thought that I am anxious,” bringing awareness into the picture.
Awareness. The gift that keeps on giving, if I would just allow it to do so. The night Jim shared that technique, I was buried in stress and grief. COVID was still wreaking havoc on America, and my sister and I had become full-time caregivers for my aging parents. Mom had passed just a few months earlier, and Dad was in his final months. It was… a lot. I spent a lot of time in my head, and, for the most part, my mind was ensnared in negativity bias. This practice began to give me a new perspective of my thoughts, offering an almost aerial-like view of how I was getting stuck.
By no longer embodying my worst tendencies, I was able to simply observe the process:
“I am a failure.”
“I am having the thought that I am a failure.”
“I am aware that I am having the thought that I am a failure.”
Did this technique cure the pain? Not for me, no. But it did reshape the way I view my more difficult thoughts and emotions, and that lessened the pain greatly. I began to see that my thoughts are not “me;” they’re just a passing train. Now, they had permission to come in the front door and exit through the back. The trick, as Shunryu Suzuki wrote, is not to invite the thoughts to stay for tea.
Life would continue to deliver challenges, as it is wont to do. Dad’s passing that spring. My own cancer diagnosis. Helping our kids navigate young adulthood. But now I had something in my back pocket that helped me see my negativity bias for what it was. I could see that whatever I was feeling wasn’t “me.”
These days, when I get mired in life’s hardest moments, I try to bring the gift that Jim shared with me that evening. When I fall short, I try not to beat myself up. After all, I am not a failure. I am simply aware that I am having the thought that I am a failure. That’s how I’m turning my bully into a companion—one thought at a time. ❧
But it’s not just self-deprecation. I often define myself by my negative emotions: “I am anxious,” “I am depressed,” “I am terrified.” The words we use matter (as my wife often reminds me), and these little mental imprints take their toll. It has often been said that we become who we believe we are. Given that, it’s a wonder I have any self-esteem left at all. As The National—my favorite sad dad group—sings, my mind is not my friend.
A few years ago, I was given a transformative tool that has helped me—on good days, at least—learn to reframe my negative thinking. While it hasn’t completely kept the bully at bay, the technique has helped me become, as Dan Harris would say, “10 percent happier.”
In early 2021, I was midway through a 300-hour mindfulness teacher training program, and one of my instructors—a delightfully grounded gentleman named Jim—shared an approach often used in cognitive therapy, which was a true game changer. The technique is most often called “cognitive defusion.”
The essence of the practice is to first notice when a thought that’s entwined in identity arises: “I am depressed,” “I am anxious,” “I am a failure.” Then, quickly reframe it so the thought isn’t “me.” So, it becomes, “I am having the thought that I am anxious.” Ah… Now, it’s just a thought; it’s not “me.” The final step reframes the thinking as: “I am noticing I am having the thought that I am anxious,” bringing awareness into the picture.
Awareness. The gift that keeps on giving, if I would just allow it to do so. The night Jim shared that technique, I was buried in stress and grief. COVID was still wreaking havoc on America, and my sister and I had become full-time caregivers for my aging parents. Mom had passed just a few months earlier, and Dad was in his final months. It was… a lot. I spent a lot of time in my head, and, for the most part, my mind was ensnared in negativity bias. This practice began to give me a new perspective of my thoughts, offering an almost aerial-like view of how I was getting stuck.
By no longer embodying my worst tendencies, I was able to simply observe the process:
“I am a failure.”
“I am having the thought that I am a failure.”
“I am aware that I am having the thought that I am a failure.”
Did this technique cure the pain? Not for me, no. But it did reshape the way I view my more difficult thoughts and emotions, and that lessened the pain greatly. I began to see that my thoughts are not “me;” they’re just a passing train. Now, they had permission to come in the front door and exit through the back. The trick, as Shunryu Suzuki wrote, is not to invite the thoughts to stay for tea.
Life would continue to deliver challenges, as it is wont to do. Dad’s passing that spring. My own cancer diagnosis. Helping our kids navigate young adulthood. But now I had something in my back pocket that helped me see my negativity bias for what it was. I could see that whatever I was feeling wasn’t “me.”
These days, when I get mired in life’s hardest moments, I try to bring the gift that Jim shared with me that evening. When I fall short, I try not to beat myself up. After all, I am not a failure. I am simply aware that I am having the thought that I am a failure. That’s how I’m turning my bully into a companion—one thought at a time. ❧
Tommy Housworth is a professional writer and creative director for corporate projects. He’s a certified mindfulness instructor, the author of two collections of short stories, and he publishes on Substack.
