← Blog
Useful Nonsense: How to Out-Dumb Your Own Anxious Brain
The first entry in a new series on Acceptance and Commitment Therapy — and why outsmarting your anxious thoughts never works.
September 6, 2026 · Brian Mulligan, LPCC, CAT
If you consider yourself an anxious person, there’s a high chance your brain is too smart for its own good. I’m not just hyping you up — consider that, as you read this, your anxious brain is likely to activate some reasonable suspicions. You could be thinking, “Don’t tell me I’m smart, you don’t know anything about me.” Or, “I’m incredibly smart but that has nothing to do with why I’m anxious — you’re an idiot.” Fair enough. Read on, skeptic reader, and you will learn why I have come to proudly proclaim myself King Idiot, Breaker of Brains, Lord of my own Head.
At its most fundamental level, the phenomenon of anxiety is a misappraisal of a perceived threat. In a state of fear, an immediate threat is accurately perceived and action is taken to remove or avoid this threat.
For instance, say you’re driving on your way to work after eating enchiladas the previous evening, one cup of coffee down with another half-finished in the cupholder, and you feel a sudden and violent lurch deep within your body, from a location you didn’t even know could access sensation. You begin sweating, vigorously. Your lower organs seem to be miraculously rearranging themselves as you focus on keeping your car from careening off the road. It occurs to you quite quickly that you will not make it to the office. You remember something you once read about lamaze breathing and wonder if the technique is more broadly applicable, but for the life of you, you can’t remember how to do it. You realize the only real option you have is to get off the road as soon as possible, find a 7/11 with a flimsy door and a sticky floor to do your business, and accept the fact that you are going to miss your team’s morning huddle.
That’s real fear. One might even call it abject terror. A threat presents itself, you are able to apprehend it, reasonably understand the risks it poses, and take effective action.
Anxiety, on the other hand, is something else entirely. You wake up the following morning, stomach finally settled, sans-enchilada, and you begin to think:
“Will it happen today?”
“What if I don’t make it?”
“Do I need to stop at Target and pick up some Depends?”
“Is this my new life?”
“Could anyone ever love me again?”
You may even, out of an abundance of caution, begin to pull off at early exits on your way to work, ‘just in case’. You become resolved to do everything in your power to ensure that no enchilada will ever hurt you again.
The thing is, deep down, everyone knows the bitter truth: there is no protection against enchilada, and just like life, enchilada will hurt you in ways you can never predict.
There are, of course, ways we all mitigate risk in our lives (like taking Pepto Bismol, or ordering Mild instead of Rojo Diablo). But to many of us, over time our minds become selectively tuned to this “safety-oriented” radio frequency, so much so that we can’t seem to tune into any other channel. The threat of a BM seems to lurk around every corner, robbing us of the capacity to stay present and simply enjoy a nice meal, regardless of the amount of grease, butter and trans fat involved.
There is no protection against enchilada, and just like life, enchilada will hurt you in ways you can never predict.
Somewhere along the way, our dials became miscalibrated, and under the false pretense of protection, we shrink away from the rich and bountiful life that is out there waiting for us, leaving endless flavors unsavored and countless culinary delicacies undigested.
If it wasn’t already clear, this is all one big stupid metaphor — and that’s exactly the point. When your anxious brain thinks it’s being clever, the trick isn’t to try to outsmart the thoughts that are already there — it’s to out-dumb them. Over the next several weeks, I will teach you, with stupefying simplicity, how to leverage nonsense to humble your anxious brain, take back control, and turn paralyzing worry into tolerable, reasonable concern. We’ll explore empirically-validated principles and practices of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) to promote tangible, lasting change.
The trick isn’t to try to outsmart the thoughts that are already there — it’s to out-dumb them.
Shakespeare once said, “The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” I’m not totally sure I know what he means, but if you are willing to take this journey with me, we can misunderstand this quote — and many others — together, in ways that truly serve you.
So what do you say? Are you ready to get down to dumb-ness?