Struggling with anxious thoughts or stress? Psychological flexibility can help you handle difficult emotions and build a richer, more meaningful life.
Maya used to describe her mind as “helpful but loud.”
It woke her up at 3:17 a.m. to replay awkward conversations. It narrated worst-case scenarios during staff meetings. It reminded her of every unfinished task while she was trying to rest. The strange part was that the voice sounded responsible. Productive. Protective. And so Maya did what she had always done: she tried to control it.
She downloaded productivity apps. She made stricter schedules. She promised herself she would “just think more positively.” When anxious thoughts showed up, she argued with them. When sadness crept in, she distracted herself. When anger surfaced, she swallowed it.
The harder she fought her inner experience, the more tangled she felt.
It wasn’t until a workshop on psychological flexibility and ACT that something shifted. The facilitator didn’t talk about eliminating difficult thoughts or becoming relentlessly optimistic. Instead, she described a different sequence for living well.
Not control.
Not suppression.
Not perfection.
But flexibility.
1. Learning to Pause (Present-Moment Awareness)
The first skill Maya practised was simple, almost irritatingly so: noticing.
She learned to anchor herself in the present moment—not as an escape, but as a way of stepping out of autopilot. When anxiety flared, instead of racing ahead with it, she would pause and notice:
• “Tightness in my chest.”
• “Thought: I’m going to mess this up.”
• “Urge to check my email again.”
At first it felt inefficient. Shouldn’t she be fixing something?
But she began to realize something practical: you can’t respond wisely to an experience you haven’t actually noticed.
Presence created space. And space softened urgency.
Next came the skill she had resisted most: acceptance.
She had always equated acceptance with resignation. But she discovered it meant something far more grounded—making room for discomfort without letting it run the show.
When sadness visited, she stopped asking, “How do I get rid of this?” and started asking, “Can I allow this to be here while I continue living my life?”
Instead of tightening around anxiety before a presentation, she let it sit beside her. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was workable.
Ironically, the feelings she stopped fighting began to move more freely. Not instantly. Not dramatically. But steadily.
3. Stepping Back from Thoughts (Cognitive Defusion)
Then she tackled the loud voice in her head.
Previously, when her mind said, “You’re not capable,” she treated it as a fact. Now she experimented with seeing thoughts as mental events rather than commands.
She practised adding small phrases:
• “I’m having the thought that I’m not capable.”
• “My mind is telling me this will be a disaster.”
It felt awkward. But it worked. She started to defuse from her thoughts.
The thoughts didn’t disappear. They simply lost some authority.
She realized her mind wasn’t malicious—it was predictive. It generated stories to keep her safe. The problem wasn’t the stories. It was believing every one of them.
4. Remembering Who Is Noticing (Self-as-Context)
As Maya became more aware of her thoughts and emotions, she also noticed something subtler: there was a part of her that observed all of it.
Anxiety changed. Anger rose and fell. Confidence fluctuated. But the noticing self remained.
This perspective was stabilizing. She wasn’t broken because she felt overwhelmed. She wasn’t weak because she had self-doubt. These were experiences moving through her, not definitions of her.
She began to identify less with “I am anxious” and more with “Anxiety is present.”
That shift alone reduced shame.
5. Clarifying What Matters (Values)
With more space from her internal noise, a new question emerged:
“If I’m not spending all my energy trying to control my thoughts, what do I actually want my life to stand for?”
She identified values that felt steady and meaningful: compassion, growth, reliability, curiosity.
Not goals.
Not outcomes.
Directions.
She realized she had been organizing her life around avoiding discomfort rather than moving toward what mattered. That explained why she often felt busy but unfulfilled.
Values gave her a compass.
Finally, she acted.
Not recklessly. Not perfectly. But consistently.
She applied for a leadership opportunity even while anxious.
She had difficult conversations while her heart pounded.
She protected family time despite work pressure.
She exercised because vitality mattered—not because she disliked her body.
The feelings came along for the ride.
And here is the part that surprised her most: discomfort didn’t vanish, but her life expanded.
Months later, Maya’s mind was still loud at times. Anxiety still visited. Self-doubt still whispered. But those experiences no longer dictated her behaviour.
Her well-being improved not because she eradicated struggle, but because she changed her relationship with it.
She was present more often.
She fought herself less.
She listened to what mattered.
She acted accordingly.
Psychological flexibility did not give her a quieter mind.
It gave her a larger life.
And in the end, that was what she had been trying to build all along.
References
Bond, F. W., Hayes, S. C., & Barnes-Holmes, D. (2006). Psychological flexibility, ACT, and organizational behavior. Journal of Organizational Behavior Management, 26(1–2), 25–54.
Hayes, S. C., Luoma, J. B., Bond, F. W., Masuda, A., & Lillis, J. (2006). Acceptance and commitment therapy: Model, processes and outcomes. Behaviour Research and Therapy, 44(1), 1–25.
This post was prepared by Dr. Jennifer Barbera.
Dr. Jennifer Barbera PhD, C. Psych is a licensed psychologist with over 25 years of counselling experience. She has extensive clinical expertise supporting individuals and couples with anxiety, trauma, depression, addiction, and relationship challenges. Her work combines evidence-based approaches with practical strategies to help clients build resilience and improve well-being.
