Therapy as an operating system update
Most of us have had the experience of an old phone or laptop slowing down, glitching, or struggling to run anything new. Often the hardware is fine. It's the software that's out of date.
I find this a helpful way to think about anxiety and low mood. Sometimes we feel stuck because we're running on old information: rules and coping strategies we learned long ago, when we were very different people in very different circumstances. In this post, I'll look at why that happens, what the research and person-centred theory say about how change takes place, and why feeling safe matters so much.
One caveat first: the brain is not a computer, and "operating system" is only a metaphor. But I think it points at something real.
The wooly jumper problem
Imagine a wooly jumper. In winter it's wonderful. It keeps you warm and you're glad of it. But if you're still wearing it in July, you'll be itchy, sweaty and uncomfortable, and you might not even realise the jumper is the problem. It's just what you've always worn.
Many of our coping strategies are like that. As children, we find ways to get through: staying quiet, pleasing others, keeping busy, not needing anything, always being in control. These aren't flaws. They're clever responses to the situation we were in. The trouble starts when they keep running long after the weather has changed.
Person-centred theory has a way of describing this. Carl Rogers (1959) proposed that children need acceptance, and that if it feels conditional ("I'm only loved when I'm good, quiet or successful"), we start to take on those conditions as our own. Over time, we can lose touch with parts of our own experience, and a gap opens between how we actually feel and how we think we should be based on those conditions. Rogers called that gap incongruence and linked it to anxiety and distress.
Neuroscience offers a complementary picture. Barrett and Simmons (2015) describe the brain as constantly making predictions based on past experience, including about what our bodily sensations mean and what's likely to happen next. If our early experiences taught us that the world is unsafe, the brain may keep predicting danger even when things have changed. This helps explain why old strategies can feel automatic, and why "just think differently" rarely works. ‘Reprogramming’ our mind and nervous system takes a lot more than that.
Updating means arriving in the present
If the problem is outdated information, then the update involves getting current. In my view, that means three things:
Understanding who we are now, rather than who we had to be then.
Noticing how our environment and relationships affect us today.
Becoming aware of what helps and what doesn't, instead of running on autopilot.
Rogers believed that each of us has an inner sense of what supports our growth, which he called the organismic valuing process. Conditions of worth can drown it out. Therapy gives us space to tune back in, to notice what feels right for us now and what doesn't.
So what happens in the brain when we do this? One promising idea is called memory reconsolidation. Research, mostly in animals, suggests that when we recall an emotional memory, it becomes briefly open to change before it settles again. Lane and colleagues (2015) proposed that therapy may work in a similar way. We revisit an old experience, but this time something different happens, like being met with understanding instead of criticism. The memory can then be updated rather than simply repeated. Researchers are still debating how far this applies to people, so I'd call it a promising explanation, not settled fact.
This fits my experience of therapy. Change rarely comes from one big insight. It tends to build through new experiences that happen again and again, until the new way of responding starts to feel more natural than the old one.
Why safety comes first
Here's the catch. We can't update anything while our nervous system is busy protecting us. Under stress, the part of the brain involved in planning and flexible thinking works less well (Arnsten, 2009). That's why it can be so hard to reason with ourselves when we're anxious.
Safety also seems to be something we find in other people. According to social baseline theory, the human brain expects to have other people close by, and treats their presence as part of its normal way of coping (Beckes & Coan, 2011). When support is there, life feels less effortful and less risky. When it isn't, the brain has to work harder to manage alone (Coan & Sbarra, 2015). It's a theory rather than a proven fact, but it fits what many of us know instinctively: it's easier to feel calm with someone who feels safe.
This is where the person-centred approach comes in. Rogers (1957) argued that change happens when the therapist offers three core conditions: empathy, unconditional positive regard and genuineness. These conditions create the feeling of safety the nervous system needs before it can look at the past. I would add this as my own view: a feeling of safety is the foundation, not a bonus. Without it, it's hard to gain new insights, and harder still for them to change how we feel.
In conclusion
Feeling anxious or low doesn't mean something is wrong with you. Often it means you're carrying strategies that once kept you safe and no longer fit. Updating them involves understanding who you are now, noticing what helps and what doesn't, and doing so in a space safe enough for your nervous system to take in something new.
That's what I try to offer in my work. If any of this resonates and you're curious about whether therapy might be right for you, you're very welcome to get in touch for an initial conversation, with no obligation.