 ‘Stop scrolling. Start doing.’ (Kati Kaia) You see the headline. Another war, disaster or existential threat looming on the horizon. Your breath shortens, your heart tightens and for a moment, just a split second perhaps, you feel that primal rush of adrenaline. Your body is gearing up for battle – but there is no enemy in front of you. There’s no fight to be won and no obvious action to take. Just a screen, glowing with catastrophe, and the realisation that you are completely powerless to stop it. This is the fight-flight-freeze response, an ancient survival mechanism designed to protect us from immediate danger. But, in the digital age, it’s being hijacked. Instead of running from a predator or standing our ground in a real-life threat, we’re reacting to the relentless tide of global crises flooding our news feeds. And the worst part? There’s nowhere for that energy to release and dissipate. When faced with a real, tangible danger, our nervous system activates to help us respond – fight back, escape or play dead until the threat passes. But when the threat is abstract, distant or beyond our control, this energy has no resolution. Instead, it lingers, simmering beneath the surface, manifesting as anxiety, burnout or even physical symptoms like fatigue, headaches or stomach cramps. Chronic exposure to distressing news can lead to what’s called ‘headline stress disorder.’ It’s a psychological phenomenon where constant exposure to crises keeps the nervous system in a perpetual state of high alert. The body can’t distinguish between immediate danger and an article about geopolitical tensions. The result? We’re left feeling exhausted, restless, and emotionally drained – and yet, somehow. unable to disengage. While I believe it’s important to remain aware of global events, especially given the international scope of my own interests and work, we don’t have to sacrifice our mental well-being in the process. Here’s are some tips for how to break the cycle (that I’m practising too): 1. Recognise the physical response: The next time you feel that surge of stress while reading, listening to or watching the news, pause. Notice your breath, your heart rate and any tension in your body. Awareness is the first step to regaining control. 2. Limit your exposure: Set boundaries on your news intake. Try checking the news only once or twice a day instead of constantly refreshing your feed. Consider turning off push notifications for breaking news unless it’s directly relevant to your life. 3. Engage in physical activity: Since the fight-flight-freeze response is designed for action, find a healthy outlet for that energy. Exercise, go for a walk or even shake your arms and legs. Physical movement can help regulate your nervous system. 4. Focus on what you can control: Instead of fixating on problems you can’t solve, redirect your attention to actions within your reach. Chat with others, write to your MP, support a local cause or do related volunteer work to restore a sense of agency. 5. Balance negative news with positive (*see below): Despite media narratives, the world isn’t only crises and catastrophes. Seek out stories of resilience, innovation and positive change. Follow groups that highlight solutions, not just problems. 6. Practise grounding techniques: Breathing exercises, prayer, meditation and mindfulness practices can help signal to your nervous system that you are safe. Simple techniques like the 5-4-3-2-1 method (naming five things you see, four you touch, three you hear, two you smell, and one you taste) can pull you back into the present moment. Yes, the world is full of challenges, but it is also full of people who care, who take action and who make a difference. And that includes you – even if your first step is simply putting down your phone, taking a deep breath, saying a prayer and reclaiming your own sense of peace. [*For positive news channels, see: Good News Hub; Good News Network; Positive News]
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 'A physicist friend of mine once said that in facing death, he drew some consolation from the reflection that he would never again have to look up the word ‘hermeneutics’ in the dictionary.’ (Steven Weinberg) I’m reading Henri Nouwen’s deeply introspective, honest and inspiring book, ‘The Return of the Prodigal Son’. At the start, the writer reflects on the relationship between Jesus’ original narrating of the parable in one time and context; the artist Rembrandt’s depiction of that account in a painting in a different time and context; and his own reflections of both, each in light of the other, in yet another time and context. As I'm reading the book here and now, I find myself in the centre of that hermeneutical triangle, in the midst of my own life and context too. This notion of hermeneutics, the art of interpretation and how we place ourselves in relation to an experience or a narrative, is important in psychological coaching because the ways in which clients construe and interpret their experiences shape their emotions, behaviours and decision-making. Social psychology provides some hermeneutical principles – attribution theory, perspective-taking and social constructivism – that I find useful to help clients shift their thinking patterns and develop a greater sense of awareness, understanding and agency. Attribution theory examines how people explain life events: whether they see a cause in themselves or in external circumstances. A balanced approach acknowledges both personal factors and external influences. A client who failed a job interview may say, ‘I didn’t get the job because I’m just not good enough.’ A coach could reframe this by asking: ‘What feedback (if any) have you received from the employer, and how do you interpret it?’, or ‘Apart from your own performance, what broader factors might have influenced the panel's decision?’ Perspective-taking is the ability to step into another person’s shoes and to view a situation from their standpoint. This skill is vital in coaching because clients often become stuck in a rigid, self-focused interpretation of events. Suppose a client is frustrated because their boss gave them critical feedback. They feel attacked and believe their boss doesn’t appreciate their hard work. A coach could ask: ’What assumptions might you be making about your boss’s intentions?’, or ‘If a colleague were to receive similar feedback, how might they interpret it?’ Social constructivism suggests that many of our beliefs about identity, self-worth and success are shaped by societal norms and cultural messages. Coaching can help clients recognise and challenge these inherited beliefs. Example: A client struggling with work-life balance may say, ‘I feel guilty if I’m not busy all the time.’ A coach could ask: ‘What messages did you receive when growing up about the value of hard work and being busy?’, or ’How do the expectations in your work environment reinforce or challenge your current beliefs around 'busyness'?’  ‘You must throw your whole being against the life trap – your thoughts, feelings and behaviour.’ (Jeffrey E. Young) I’ve never been to a casino. In the past couple of weeks, however, I’ve had two fascinating conversations with people who work in casinos in Germany. I asked them if players can develop ways to improve their chances of winning, or whether winning or losing is purely a matter of chance. They both said ‘purely chance’ – with the mathematical probability of winning weighted heavily in favour of the casinos. I asked them if players ever believe they can improve their chances of winning, to reduce the loading of the dice against them. They both said ‘Yes’ too. Players may think they discern patterns in, say, roulette results, whereas they are random. This human ability and tendency to perceive patterns and to associate meaning with such patterns is known in psychology as the schemata phenomenon. I remember a philosophy tutor, Peter Hicks, inviting us, as students, to imagine he was holding a bag of 100 marbles. If he were to draw out one marble at a time, and every single marble was red, what would we guess the colour of the 100th marble would be? Now we know the colours of the 99 so far have nothing whatsoever to do with the colour of the 100th, yet everything within us still screams ‘Red.’ We superimpose a pattern, a schemata, based on what we have observed and experienced to date. There are psychological benefits. For instance: schemata enable mental short-cuts by allowing us to process familiar information quickly without needing to analyse every detail from scratch; they provide a sense of predictability and order that reduces uncertainty; they help us navigate relationships by enabling us to anticipate how people will react and to adjust our behaviour accordingly; they reduce emotional overwhelm by, instead of processing every situation as if for the first time, allowing us to rely on past experience to guide us; they speed up skill acquisition and problem-solving by providing mental frameworks that help guide our reasoning. There are risks too. For instance: schemata may lead to confirmation bias, where we selectively interpret information in ways that reinforce our pre-existing beliefs; they may lead to stereotyping and unfair generalisation of people, cultures or situations; we may experience disappointment, frustration or distress if reality doesn’t align with our expectations; negative patterns from the past may create unnecessary worry and avoidance behaviours now; if we assume our knowledge is absolute, it may discourage curiosity, learning and adaptivity; we may project our expectations onto others or fail to recognise their own unique perspectives. So, here are some techniques I’ve found useful: question whether your expectations about people or situations are based on facts or past experiences; be mindful of confirmation bias and stereotyping; engage with people from different backgrounds and cultures; try new activities, travel or change your routine to disrupt automatic thought patterns; view challenges as opportunities to refine your schemata; ask regularly, ‘What else could be true?’ to consider multiple possibilities for why something happened; if emotionally triggered, pause and ask whether your reaction is based on present or past experiences; try hard to make room for the new. Do you need help with breaking free from life traps? Get in touch!  ‘Voting is irrational. Emotions always win.’ (Eyal Winter) Yesterday, I had a conversation with Alicia, a young German student with an interest in psychology. We reflected on current world events, including the resurgence of Donald Trump in the U.S. and the unfolding German election results. One question puzzled us: Why do so many people support political leaders and parties whose policies and behaviour seem irrational? Take Trump, for example. His use of ‘alternative facts’ doesn’t seem to shake his supporters' confidence. Similarly, politicians on the far left or right offer simplistic solutions to complex problems, yet their followers remain unwavering. Meanwhile, centrist politicians who present nuanced arguments in measured tones often struggle to gain traction. Instead of persuading people, they are met with boredom or disdain. Why is that? Here’s a thought: Many people today feel hopeless when they look at the state of the world and the challenges in their own lives too. Traditional politicians speak to the mind with carefully-crafted words, yet those who feel lost or frustrated are voting from the heart. Perhaps it’s not about what populist leaders think or say. It’s about how they make people feel.  ‘Do not get too close to the leading aircraft. Do not get below the leading aircraft’s flight path. Be particularly wary when light wind conditions exist.’ (Civil Aviation Authority, NZ) Seat belts on. Buckle up. We could be in for a rough ride. Caught in wake turbulence, with a change of President in the cockpit and the USA veering off in a new direction, much of the rest of the world is struggling, suddenly and desperately, to regain stability: a sense of safety, security and control. A brace position is an instinctive human response: curled up in foetus position with head down and eyes closed tight, hoping or praying to survive. A crash landing can hurt. We may wish we’d paid for a seat in the exit row. Look now and see some world actors tipping their caps with feigned enthusiasm and rushing around frantically, shouting ‘Yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir’; trying hard to win approval, make all the right noises and to do all the right things to please or placate the self-proclaimed King. It may well mean sacrificing long-held beliefs, values, principles and relationships but, hey – pragmatism over idealism. The end justifies the means. Sell your soul if the price is high enough and the risks and rewards seem worthwhile. Others, a minority, are speaking from the shadows in muted tones and attempting, in acts of sometimes naïve yet heroic-sounding bravery, to hold a shaken position. They work hard to look confident, to speak with sincere conviction from moral high ground, but anxiety shows its face through the look in their eyes, their wringing hands or their clenched fists. Straining nerves to hold onto hope, they cling to the remnants of an unexpectedly-redundant paradigm, resisting the urge to give up and get on board with a dominating new. One final group have closed their eyes, put their fingers in their ears, and are singing gently but happily from the sidelines, ‘La, la, la.’ It reveals a belief that, if they keep quiet and keep their heads below the parapet for long enough, it will all pass by. Sooner or later, everything will settle down again. It’s the mark of the optimist who doesn’t want to be troubled by an inconvenient truth. They ignore the dismantling of democracy hidden in plain sight and appear completely immune to the geopolitical drama unfolding before them. Each reaction represents, in essence, a defensive routine – flight, fight or freeze – in the face a perceived threat: a daunting future marked by anxiety and uncertainty. To react is, by definition, to follow. It’s what we do when someone, or something, has seized the initiative or taken it from us. What we need now is humble and courageous leadership; people who will bring hopeful vision, whose behaviour is rooted in ethical values and who are not seduced, buffeted or derailed by opportunistic possibilities or a gathering storm.  ‘Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what keeps you going.’ (Jim Ryuh) I was surprisingly relieved to get a not-entirely surprising blood test result last year. It revealed that I was ‘prediabetic’ – that is, not actually diabetic, but heading in that direction. Relieved because it confirmed what I had already been wondering; relieved that I hadn’t (yet) crossed the diabetic threshold; and relieved because I knew it would take stark news like that to shake me up enough to break a habit. In the 6 months or so leading up to the test, I was increasingly aware of eating too many sweet foods – I mean, who can turn down a slice of chocolate cake from the fridge – but I wasn’t really doing anything to change it. A good friend was on a public health prediabetes programme and they inspired me to join a similar course. The next day, electronic weigh scales and a cookbook were delivered to my door. I discovered through guided self-examination that I was eating too many foods with added sugar; too many carbohydrates that have a similar effect in the blood; too much fruit all at the same time; not enough protein; and not enough green stuff. Oh, and not enough full-fat Greek yoghurt (weird!). I wasn’t doing enough physical exercise and my sleep patterns were chaotic at best. Apart from that… So, knowing that I’m not great at doing anything in moderation, I made immediate and radical changes to my diet; started a regular routine of speed-walking using a simple tracking app; and made some – but not yet enough – changes to my sleep routine. With the support of a motivating weekly online weigh-in, I lost 6.5kg in 2 months – something I’d wanted to do for many years but had never quite managed it. I’ve noticed again through this experience how psychological factors make such a difference and, therefore, how self-awareness is so important. For instance, I know that I find focus on goals and rewards (e.g. weight loss) helpful, to sustain a reason for persisting with a new habit when I’m tempted to compromise; I know I’m better at doing something wholeheartedly (some would say extreme) than in balance, so it made sense to replace all the food in my cupboards and fridge, rather than tell myself I could eat sweet stuff occasionally; I know that, when I slip up from time to time, I have to avoid falling into an ‘all is lost’ self-narrative, because that would provide me with a perfect (and pathetic) excuse to give up. So, that’s me. When have you broken an old habit and formed a new one? How did you do it?  ‘For every fixed idea there is an absent idea: by interpreting experience in a particular way we inadvertently exclude alternative renditions.’ (Peter Senge) It’s tricky being human. We are so easily trapped by our assumptions. Imagine this scenario (mirroring Chris Argyris and Peter Senge’s Ladder of Inference): You arrange a meeting with a colleague from whom you need input and you race back from another appointment to ensure you arrive on time. To your frustration and dismay, the other person doesn’t turn up. You call them but there’s no answer. What sort of thing goes through your mind? It could be:
That reminds me of Stephen Covey’s observation that, often, ‘We judge others by their actions but ourselves by our intentions.’ If this happens, you’re likely to feel devalued and disrespected – and that will have a negative impact on your relationship. Yet how to challenge yourself to create a shift in perspective and, thereby, to open up fresh possibilities for moving things forward? Jean Latting and V. Jean Ramsey offer a useful ‘3 Hypotheses Technique’: The first step is to notice and take note of what you assume the person’s action or behaviour means – that is, if you like, your starting hypothesis. The second step is to assume the person has a positive intention – which would be, in this case, the reverse of your initial hypothesis. The third step is to assume the person is, for instance, being driven by external circumstances that are beyond their control – that is, to imagine or create an alternative explanation. Playing with hypotheses like this can help us loosen the grip that hidden, subconscious assumptions can hold over our thinking, how we feel and how we respond. It helps us recognise when we may be jumping to conclusions without realising it – especially when we’re feeling anxious, pressured or stressed – and it can evoke a constructive and healthy state of curiosity, allowing us to navigate situations and relationships with greater freedom, flexibility and truth.  ‘I can’t dream while the platform’s burning.’ (Benjamin Downing) It’s hard to think straight, let alone creatively, if we feel threatened, anxious or stressed. It’s like trying to see clearly while thick clouds of emotion-filled dust are kicked up in the air. For coaching to be effective, sufficient psychological safety and trust are critical success factors. This means co-creating the conditions for a person to engage in critical reflection, decision-making and action. Without it, searching questions are likely to trigger defensive routines. These risk dynamics can be amplified if, for instance, a person is being coached by their own line-manager and worried about how it could affect subsequent performance evaluations; or if coaching has been commissioned by HR as a remedial intervention, rather than something the person has chosen for themselves; or if a person being coached has been betrayed before and doesn’t feel fully-confident in the boundaries of confidentiality they’ve agreed with a coach. In view of this, I find that careful contracting with potential and new clients is very important. It means discussing these and any other issues of hope or concern explicitly from the outset. I may ask, ‘If we were to work together, what would that mean for you (potential outcomes, consequences or implications)?’ And, ‘Given that, if our work together were to be successful (for you, your team or organisation), what would you need (from me, yourself or others)?’ Do you need help with creating psychological safety? Get in touch!  ‘All the things one has forgotten scream for help in dreams.’ (Elias Canetti) The first dream. I was back at the university where I studied. In reality, I left there almost 35 years ago but it felt vivid, as if now. I stood alone in a long, empty corridor. I became suddenly aware of a whole array of research assignments that I was supposed to have done yet hadn’t. I felt confused and perturbed. And then I woke up. After a few minutes, I fell back to sleep again. The second dream. I was back with a previous employer. In reality, I left there 7 years ago yet it too was vivid, as if now. I was on the top floor of the building and suddenly aware that I had never visited any of the other floors or met any of the people who worked there. As Head of OD, I felt confused and embarrassed. Then I woke up. After a few minutes, I fell back to sleep again. The third dream. It was Christmas Day at my parents’ house. We were preparing for extended family visitors to arrive when I became suddenly aware that, for some reason, I hadn’t bought any Christmas presents for my daughters. I felt confused and disconcerted that something so important had slipped my mind. Then I woke up. This time, I turned on the light and got up. Freudian analysts would have a field day trying to interpret the meaning of these dreams, as if each dimension holds symbolic representational value. I’m drawn to a more recent, alternative approach that pays attention to the underlying emotion in the dream state; in this case, an overwhelming daunted feeling, and what I was saying to myself: ‘How could I have missed this?’ It moves me on to consider: What are my dreams trying to wake me up to notice? Where am I carrying this same feeling in my day-to-day life and relationships now? What (or who) in my here-and-now life am I not-noticing, avoiding or suppressing, yet is calling for attention and expression? What actions do I need to take now, to avoid a ‘How could I have missed this?’ in the future?  ‘What others say and do is a projection of their own reality. When you are immune to opinions and actions of others, you won’t be the victim of needless suffering.’ (Don Miguel Ruiz) It is, perhaps, one of the most limiting influences on personal growth and damaging influences on interpersonal relationships. A friend once described it graphically as being like carrying a data projector on one’s shoulder, then projecting images of the things we most dislike about ourselves – without being aware that we’re doing it – onto another person. The resulting impact is that we may well see and criticise those things in another, as if they are attributes of that person, rather than face, acknowledge and address them in ourselves. On the receiving end of projection, it can feel bizarre, like someone is superimposing intentions, attitudes or behaviour onto us that just don’t fit, resonate or ring true. If we challenge or push back, the projecting person is likely to become defensive. Projection is, after all, a way of denying, avoiding or suppressing things that could cause pain or anxiety. I had this experience recently in a disagreement on social media when I asked, genuinely: ‘Are you aware of doing the same thing – here and now – that you say I’m doing?’ They blocked me. Was my question a defended response? It’s a tricky question. How can we know, in the moment, whether we are projecting onto another person or, perhaps, in denial when we reject another’s feedback as projection? It is possible, for instance, that a person is projecting onto us, and yet there is a grain of truth and justification in what they are seeing and saying. It’s also possible that a person could, conversely, idealise us, projecting admirable qualities that they find difficult personally or culturally to acknowledge in themselves. It’s complex. Here are some tips I find useful. Firstly, if I find myself critical of a person, group, issue or action, I try to imagine myself standing in front of a mirror. What could my criticisms reveal about me – e.g. my values, attitudes or instinctive behaviours? Could the other party equally and justifiably level the same criticisms at me? Secondly, if I find another expressing criticism of me, I try to ask myself honestly: how far does this reflect what I know about myself and feedback I’ve received from others? Could there be truth in this from which I can learn? |
Nick WrightI'm a psychological coach, trainer and OD consultant. Curious to discover how can I help you? Get in touch! 
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