Why do we keep finding evidence for what we already believe?

Have you ever noticed how, once you believe something about yourself, you seem to keep finding evidence that proves it?

Perhaps you already worry that you're not good enough at work. You receive several compliments and quickly dismiss them, yet one piece of criticism stays with you for the rest of the day. Or perhaps you enter a social situation already worried that you won't fit in. Several people are friendly, but afterwards your mind returns to the person who didn't acknowledge you or the one conversation that felt slightly awkward.

It can feel as though these experiences are simply confirming something you already knew: I'm not good enough. People don't really like me. I always get things wrong. Something is going to go wrong.

But something more interesting may be happening. What we already believe can influence what we notice, what we give importance to and, sometimes, what we overlook.

Why can the negative feel more convincing?

Our brains are constantly processing far more information than we can consciously pay attention to, so inevitably some things receive more attention than others.

Potential threats, uncertainty and negative information can be particularly effective at capturing our attention. From an evolutionary perspective, there is an understandable advantage to noticing possible danger. Missing something pleasant was unlikely to threaten our survival; failing to notice danger potentially could.

Modern threats are often very different. We may find ourselves scanning for signs that somebody is unhappy with us, anticipating what could go wrong, noticing our mistakes more readily than our successes, or replaying an uncomfortable interaction.

Another relevant psychological concept is confirmation bias: our existing beliefs and expectations can influence the information we notice, seek out and give weight to. This can be particularly powerful when the belief is about ourselves.

Imagine someone who believes they're not good enough. Positive feedback at work becomes “They're just being nice.” Successfully managing a difficult situation becomes “Anyone could have done that.” A friend expressing appreciation can be difficult to take in. Then they make a mistake. “There you go. I knew it.” Evidence that challenges the belief is discounted, while evidence supporting it can feel immediately convincing.

This isn't necessarily a conscious choice. These patterns can develop over many years and become increasingly automatic. Counselling can provide an opportunity to become curious about them, rather than simply accepting them as facts.

Understanding where our beliefs come from

Sometimes it can be useful to explore how we came to understand ourselves in a particular way. A psychodynamic-informed perspective might invite curiosity about the experiences and relationships that contributed to a belief.

Someone who feels “I'm only worthwhile when I'm achieving” may have learned that achievement brought recognition or approval. Another person may have learned to be the responsible one, the person who didn't cause problems, or the one who looked after everybody else. Someone else may have a completely different history.

This doesn't mean assuming that every present difficulty originates in childhood or that counselling has to involve endlessly analysing the past. Rather, understanding the history of a pattern can sometimes help us recognise why something feels so convincing today.

Experiencing ourselves differently

Understanding where something came from doesn't necessarily make it feel different. Someone might know intellectually that they are excessively self-critical but still experience every mistake as evidence of failure. They may understand that they are allowed to have needs but continue to feel guilty whenever they express them.

This is where the person-centred therapeutic relationship can be important. Being listened to with empathy, acceptance and without judgement can provide space to explore experiences that might otherwise be difficult to approach.

Rather than being told what they should think or feel, a person can become more curious about their own experience. What do I actually feel? What do I need? Whose expectations am I trying to meet? Is this really how I see myself, or is it how I've learned to see myself?

Over time, there may be an opportunity to develop a more nuanced and compassionate understanding of ourselves, rather than simply trying to replace a negative belief with a positive one.

Looking at what keeps the pattern going

A CBT-informed perspective can help us examine how thoughts, emotions and behaviours interact in the present.

Imagine somebody who believes “Other people will think I'm boring.” Before a social event, they predict conversations will be awkward. That increases their anxiety, so they speak less, monitor everything they say and perhaps avoid approaching people.

They notice every uncomfortable pause but may give less attention to somebody smiling, asking questions or trying to continue the conversation. Afterwards, they conclude: “I knew I wouldn't fit in.”

The original belief may therefore influence not only what they notice, but also how they behave. In turn, those behaviours can sometimes contribute to the very experience they were worried about.

Exploring these cycles isn't necessarily about replacing every negative thought with a positive one. It can be about developing greater flexibility and curiosity: What else happened? Is there another explanation? Was there information that didn't fit my prediction?

What would you like instead?

There are also times when understanding the problem isn't the only useful direction. Solution-focused brief therapy (SFBT)-informed work can invite us to consider what we would like instead, while also noticing exceptions, strengths and resources that may already be present.

Someone might say, “I don't want to overthink everything.” We could explore what less overthinking would actually look like. Perhaps they would make decisions more easily, be more present with their partner, contribute at work without analysing everything afterwards, or spend less time worrying about things they cannot control.

One well-known solution-focused technique is the miracle question. In simple terms, someone is invited to imagine that while they are asleep, something changes and the problem that brought them to counselling is no longer affecting them in quite the same way.

What would they first notice the following morning? What would they be doing differently? How might they feel or respond differently? What might somebody close to them notice? The purpose isn't to expect a miracle. It is to begin transforming “I don't want to feel like this” into a clearer picture of what moving in the right direction might actually look like.

Solution-focused questions can also help identify occasions when the problem has been less powerful. If someone believes “I'm never confident,” are there situations where they feel slightly more confident? What's different then? What are they already doing that helps?

Similarly, someone may feel that nothing is changing, yet closer exploration might reveal that they handled one difficult conversation differently, set a boundary they would previously have avoided, went somewhere despite feeling anxious, or noticed an unhelpful thought without automatically responding to it.

None of this denies the problem. It simply makes sure the problem isn't the only evidence being considered.

Different perspectives for different parts of the same problem

This is one way an integrative and pluralistic approach to counselling can be useful. Human difficulties don't always fit neatly within one therapeutic model. At one point, it may be useful to understand where a belief originated. At another, it may help to examine how thoughts and behaviours maintain it today.

Sometimes the therapeutic relationship itself becomes an important part of experiencing ourselves differently. At other times, looking towards a preferred future and identifying small signs of progress may be more useful.

A pluralistic approach also recognises that what is helpful should be explored collaboratively. Different people may want and need different things from counselling, and what somebody finds useful may change during the course of therapy.

For one person, understanding the past may be important. Someone else may already understand their history very well and want to focus on what is happening now. Another person might need space to talk and make sense of what they are feeling before considering change.

The aim isn't to find one psychological explanation that proves everything else wrong. It can instead be about developing a fuller understanding of ourselves and having more choices about how we respond.

Not simply thinking positively

None of this is about simply thinking positively. Difficult experiences remain difficult. Criticism can hurt. Relationships can go wrong. Sometimes our fears are understandable responses to things that really have happened. But the story we've developed about ourselves may not include all the available information.

Counselling can provide a space to explore where that story came from, how it influences what we notice today, what might be keeping it going, and whether there are other experiences that deserve our attention too.

Perhaps the question gradually shifts from “What's wrong with me?” towards something more curious:“How did I come to see myself this way, is it still the whole story, and what might I like to be different?”

If some of the patterns described here feel familiar, counselling can offer a place to explore them at your own pace. You don't necessarily need to know which therapeutic approach you need, or even have a clear explanation for why you feel the way you do. Finding a counsellor you feel comfortable with can be a useful place to begin.