Intrusive thoughts and the mind

An intrusive thought arises, chemicals are released, and an emotional response follows—all in a lightning-fast sequence. That emotional response is strongly tied to a pattern. When we begin to separate the two—thought and physical/emotional response (the physical being a chemical release of adrenaline and cortisol, the stress hormones)—we can start to use neuroplasticity. These are the brain’s wiring pathways—they send signals and interpret them. I’ll give an example. As a child, someone is bitten by a dog. A neuronal connection forms. These pathways are created through experience, somewhat like a road. The signal begins from that experience—one side says dogs are bad, the other says be afraid of dogs. With repeated bad experiences, that road gets more traffic and widens. It begins to perceive all dogs as bad and to fear all dogs. At that point, the thought has gone further than logic would allow if applied with practice. The best practice is exposure. With positive experiences with safe dogs, a new neuronal pathway forms. It says: not all dogs are bad, don’t be afraid of all dogs. At first, it’s a small road. But the more good experiences someone has, the wider it becomes and the more traffic goes down it. The old road is still there—it formed for a reason—but it begins to narrow. Less and less of those old signals fire off. This is why exposure to our fears is so important, and why ERP and similar therapies are helpful. Anxiety and the chemical release that comes with it follow a pattern: Thought → chemical response → emotional response. With OCD, anxiety, depression, and other disorders that trigger these chemical releases, the response can happen incredibly quickly. Years of these patterns create automatic reactions. It’s not just OCD—many people with intrusive thoughts or related conditions experience this same rapid cascade: thought, chemical response, emotional response. Everything runs on these patterns, and they sink in from childhood, from repeated practice, and from trauma. But once we see that these patterns exist, we can begin to interrupt them and reshape them. Neuroplasticity offers us a way out. Once we catch the thought and the physical response, we recognise we’re not stuck—we can practice new pathways. When a thought arises, chemicals are released, and together they create a “whole” feeling. Panic attacks work the same way. The body pumps blood, releases chemicals, and prepares us to run or fight. Many of us see anxiety as something horrible—an enemy. It’s not. From ancient times, humans and animals have always scanned for danger. Animals still do. At any moment, they can feel fear and have a chemical response to escape or fight. Ancient humans had many dangers. Some people were “watchers”—they stayed alert, scanning for threats to protect others. Without them, humans may not have survived. Anxiety is actually a friend. But in the modern world, it can become over-wired—too sensitive, constantly scanning for danger where there isn’t any. When I learned anxiety wasn’t my enemy, but a friend trying to help—just misguided—I stopped hating it. And when I stopped fighting it, it became less powerful. I had to learn that it tells me things that aren’t always true. That’s hard at first. It gives you a strong feeling that something is wrong—that doom is here. But it starts with a thought. We can learn to catch the physical response and separate it from the thought, recognising the body is trying to help by giving us energy. An OCD thought arises. We get the response, and then we want to avoid it. For many, that means doing rituals to self-soothe. But those rituals are band-aids. They actually keep us stuck. Give your OCD a name. Separate it from “me.” You are not your disorder. I often say: “maybe, maybe not.” A thought is just a thought. Thinking something doesn’t make it real. We can’t stop thoughts. They come and go as they please. Trying to push them away gives them more power. The mind is like a clear blue sky. Thoughts are clouds. Are the clouds the sky? Don’t be afraid of the chemical response. It’s trying to help. Recognise that thoughts can be doubted—even when we’re used to believing them. Try this: think about making something catch fire with your mind. You quickly see you can’t. It’s a simple way to show that thoughts are just thoughts. Mindfulness helps. Mindfulness is the practice of bringing your attention to the present moment without judgment. It means noticing thoughts, sensations, and emotions as they arise, and letting them come and go, like clouds in the sky. One last example. You’re driving, and someone cuts you off and nearly takes you off the road. They’re unaware and drive off. A thought arises. A chain of thoughts follows. Chemicals are released, and an emotional response occurs. “That was dangerous. I could have been killed.” Fear and anger arise. Our bodies join in, and we experience a whole world inside ourselves. There’s a valid reason for that feeling. Now imagine this: moments later, someone walks up and hands you a briefcase filled with money. It’s yours. How long does the anger stay? It dissolves. A new feeling arises. Where did the anger go? That awful feeling shifts into something else. It felt permanent, solid, and real before. The nature of thoughts is that they arise and pass. How long they stay depends on us—on rumination or where we place our focus. Intrusive thoughts arise on their own. But we give them energy that allows them to persist. Even compulsions give them energy. So the root of it is this: observe the thought. “Oh, it’s that thought again.” Notice the body response—heart racing, trembling, sweating. Recognise these are separate. Bring your focus to the body. Let it settle. Slow your breathing. Relax your muscles. Adrenaline and cortisol only last for a while. Then, when you’re able, return to the thought. Thoughts are clouds. We have to give up the idea that our thoughts are always truthful. They’re a paintbrush, and the mind is the canvas. Don’t help hold the brush. Recognise you’ve been through this before. While it’s not pleasant, it does pass. We have to see the impermanence in it. This thought and this feeling are not permanent states. Even in the darkest moments, there are brief gaps where it isn’t exactly the same. ⸻