Maybe it starts as a thought. Something small, perhaps even inspiring, that gradually becomes familiar through repetition.
Before long, it's part of how we understand ourselves or the world around us. We might no longer remember where the idea came from or when we first began accepting it.
Our brains are constantly learning from experience. Familiar patterns can become easier to recognize and repeat, particularly when they're connected to strong emotions or important relationships. But familiarity doesn't necessarily mean something is accurate, useful or good for us.
It's strange, really, how something as intangible as an idea can influence our behaviour, emotional responses and even the way we experience our bodies.
We don't simply collect beliefs like objects on a shelf. We use them to interpret what happens around us, anticipate what might happen next and make decisions about how to respond.
Over time, some become so closely connected to our identity that we forget they were ever ideas we adopted.
I sometimes think of it as wearing someone else's version of reality. A little tailoring from culture, some stitching from repeated experiences and perhaps a few alterations made through fear or the need to belong.
Sometimes it fits beautifully. Sometimes it itches.
And sometimes we don't realize we're wearing it until something happens that makes us question the fit.
The Wiring of Belief
Neuroplasticity describes the brain's capacity to change through experience, learning and other influences. These changes involve several processes, including alterations in the strength and organisation of connections between neurons.
One influential idea comes from psychologist Donald Hebb, whose 1949 work helped establish an important theory of how learning might strengthen neural connections.
It's often summarized by the familiar phrase about neurons firing together and wiring together.
That's a useful illustration, although the actual biology of learning and memory is considerably more complicated. Beliefs aren't stored in single pathways that become permanently fixed each time we repeat a thought.
Still, repetition can matter. Experiences we encounter frequently may become easier to remember, and familiar interpretations can influence what we notice in new situations.
Consider someone who has repeatedly been told they're not good enough.
Over time, that message may become part of how they interpret criticism, opportunities or ordinary mistakes. A disappointing experience can seem to confirm the belief, while successes may be dismissed or explained away.
Emotion can contribute to this process. Experiences associated with fear, excitement, embarrassment or belonging may receive particular attention, although the relationship between emotion and memory isn't always straightforward.
Our bodies are involved, too.
A challenging conversation might be accompanied by muscle tension, changes in breathing or an unsettled stomach. Previous experiences and expectations can influence these responses, sometimes before we've consciously identified what we're reacting to.
That doesn't mean a particular bodily sensation proves a belief is true.
It means our beliefs, expectations and physical experiences can influence one another.
And then there's the world around us.
Marketing, social expectations and repeated cultural messages can encourage us to adopt particular ideas about ourselves. We may be told that we're falling behind, missing something important or failing to meet a standard we hadn't previously considered.
Some of those messages contain useful information. Others create insecurity and then offer a product or service as the solution.
The more frequently an idea appears, the more familiar it can become. But repetition isn't proof, and familiarity doesn't necessarily reflect our own considered judgement.
That's what interests me about the relationship between belief and learning.
The same capacity that allows us to develop familiar patterns also allows us to learn something new.
Cognitive Dissonance: When the Idea Doesn't Fit
There are moments when what we believe and what we experience don't sit comfortably together.
Perhaps we've always trusted a particular person, but something they've done challenges that trust. Or we belong to a community whose teachings begin to conflict with our own observations.
We might also find ourselves acting in ways that contradict our values, then struggling to explain why.
Psychologist Leon Festinger introduced the theory of cognitive dissonance in 1957 to examine the discomfort associated with inconsistent beliefs, attitudes or behaviour.
People may respond by changing a belief, reconsidering their behaviour, seeking additional information or finding explanations that reduce the apparent contradiction.
Sometimes those explanations are reasonable. Sometimes they're ways of avoiding a particularly uncomfortable possibility.
Dissonance can also involve physiological arousal, but it doesn't mean every contradiction activates an automatic danger response. Nor does feeling anxious establish that we're experiencing cognitive dissonance.
What interests me is how personal the experience can become when the belief being challenged is closely connected to our identity.
It's one thing to discover that we were wrong about an ordinary fact. It's another to question something that has helped us feel safe, accepted or certain about who we are.
We may find ourselves defending an explanation even when parts of it no longer make sense.
Not necessarily because we're dishonest or unwilling to learn, but because changing the belief could have consequences for our relationships, routines or understanding of ourselves.
Fear, Obligation and Guilt
This is where another concept becomes relevant.
In their 1997 book Emotional Blackmail, Susan Forward and Donna Frazier described the use of Fear, Obligation and Guilt, commonly shortened to F.O.G., in controlling relationships.
Fear can discourage someone from questioning a demand when they anticipate punishment, rejection or other consequences. Obligation can make compliance feel like a duty, while guilt may encourage someone to prioritize another person's expectations over their own judgement.
These emotions are ordinary parts of human experience. Their presence doesn't automatically mean we're being manipulated.
The concern arises when they're deliberately exploited to maintain compliance or make disagreement increasingly difficult.
Similar pressures can occur in groups and organisations when belonging becomes conditional on accepting the group's interpretation of events.
Imagine beginning to question a method or philosophy you've invested considerable time in. Perhaps you've formed close relationships within the community and built part of your identity around its teachings.
Reconsidering those ideas may involve far more than changing your opinion. You may also be wondering what will happen to the relationships, commitments and opportunities connected to them.
That's an important part of understanding why people sometimes remain involved in situations they have begun to question.
Recognizing the pressure doesn't necessarily resolve it, but it can help us distinguish our own considered choices from decisions made primarily to avoid anticipated consequences.
Unlearning: When Familiar Patterns Begin to Change
I find the word unlearning interesting because it can sound as though we're trying to erase something.
But learning something new doesn't necessarily remove the memories or experiences that came before it.
Sometimes we're developing a different interpretation of familiar events. Other times, we're practicing responses that better reflect our present circumstances.
Neuroplasticity allows the brain to change through continued learning and experience, but noticing a pattern doesn't automatically weaken the neural connections associated with it.
Awareness can be a useful beginning. What happens next depends on the person, the pattern and the circumstances involved.
Someone may recognize that a long-held belief no longer fits, yet continue responding as though it does. A familiar reaction can remain compelling even after we've begun questioning the explanation behind it.
That isn't necessarily a failure of awareness.
Learning often involves repetition, experimentation, new experiences and sometimes support from other people.
We may begin by noticing the assumptions we automatically bring into a situation. Then we can examine whether those assumptions are supported by what is actually happening.
Perhaps we respond differently in a familiar conversation, allow ourselves to consider an alternative explanation or discover that a feared consequence doesn't occur.
Each experience can provide information that wasn't available when the original pattern developed.
There may also be grief, uncertainty or uncomfortable emotions associated with reconsidering something that once gave us meaning.
Not every emotional response is evidence of release, and not every moment of clarity produces a permanent change.
Sometimes we need time.
What I find valuable is the opportunity to develop a different relationship with a belief. We can recognize how it formed, acknowledge what purpose it may once have served and decide whether we still want to organize our lives around it.
The past remains part of our experience, but it doesn't have to provide the only explanation for what happens next.
Integration: Thought, Emotion and Awareness
Once we begin recognizing our familiar interpretations, we have more opportunities to consider how thought, emotion and physical experience interact.
Thought helps us interpret and organize information. Emotions can draw attention to what matters to us, while physical sensations offer information about our internal state and surroundings.
Imagination contributes another dimension.
It allows us to rehearse possibilities, remember experiences, anticipate outcomes and explore situations we haven't encountered before.
That ability can be enormously useful. It can help us prepare for difficulties, solve problems and imagine different ways of living.
But imagination can also contribute to distress when we repeatedly anticipate danger or become absorbed in interpretations that haven't been adequately examined.
Our expectations can influence what we notice, and what we notice can reinforce our expectations.
I think that's why becoming aware of our own interpretations is so interesting.
It creates an opportunity to examine the difference between what's happening, what we're anticipating and what we're assuming it means.
We don't always need to change how we feel before considering another perspective. Nor do we need to dismiss an uncomfortable emotion simply because its first interpretation may be incomplete.
Sometimes an experience needs further investigation. Sometimes it needs action, conversation or a change in circumstances.
And sometimes it simply needs enough room for us to understand it without immediately turning it into another problem to solve.
What About Coherence?
I like the word coherence, although it's worth being clear about what I mean by it.
I'm not suggesting that becoming aware of a belief automatically produces a particular brainwave pattern, stabilizes our chemistry or places the nervous system into some ideal state.
For me, coherence is a useful way to describe the experience of bringing our understanding, values and behaviour into a relationship that makes sense to us.
That doesn't mean everything feels comfortable or certain.
We can acknowledge a difficult emotion while still making a considered decision. We can recognize the value of a previous belief without continuing to defend it, and we can remain connected to other people even when we no longer share every assumption.
Our perspective can change without requiring us to erase the person we were before.
That, to me, is where awareness becomes particularly valuable.
Not as another perfect state to achieve, but as an ongoing opportunity to notice, question, learn and respond.
We can allow our understanding to move as new experiences and information become available.
And perhaps the most interesting part is discovering how much of what once seemed permanent was simply familiar.
A Little Reflection
What beliefs have become so familiar that you rarely notice yourself using them?
Are there ideas you've inherited from family, culture, education or a community that no longer fit quite as comfortably as they once did?
And when an experience challenges one of those beliefs, what happens?
There's no need to treat every uncomfortable response as evidence that something is wrong or that an old pattern must immediately be dismantled.
Sometimes the most useful thing is recognizing that another interpretation is possible.
We can examine what we've learned, question what no longer holds up and remain open to new experiences without needing to arrive at a final explanation of ourselves.
Maybe we don't have to keep wearing every belief we've ever tried on.
A little curiosity. A different perspective. Perhaps the freedom to make a few alterations.
Comfortably real, with room to grow.
Next: What’s Been Left Out
If our beliefs have a neurological story, what is it like to be the person living that story? Part Three looks at the experience our models of the mind can’t fully contain.
Sources and Further Reading
Donald Hebb (1949), The Organization of Behavior: A Neuropsychological Theory. Wiley.
Gallistel and Matzel (2013), The Neuroscience of Learning: Beyond the Hebbian Synapse. https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22804775/
Leon Festinger (1957), A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance. Stanford University Press.
American Psychological Association, Cognitive Dissonance Theory. https://dictionary.apa.org/cognitive-dissonance-theory
On the Characteristics of the Cognitive Dissonance State (2020). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC7101003/
Susan Forward and Donna Frazier (1997), Emotional Blackmail: When the People in Your Life Use Fear, Obligation, and Guilt to Manipulate You. HarperCollins.
https://search.worldcat.org/title/36260680
Mindfulness-Related Changes in Grey Matter: A Systematic Review and Meta-analysis (2021). https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8500886/
Sue McKenzie
Originally published 12 October 2025 Updated September 2026