When Trying Not to Think About It Makes Everything Worse
The Surprising Reason Your Brain Won't Let That Memory Go
Your Trauma Therapist by Lauren Auer, LCPC is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. For more content follow me on Instagram.
It's 3 AM and you're awake again, haunted by the same memory you've spent all day pushing away. Or maybe you're driving home from work, peaceful for once, when suddenly that thing you're trying so hard to forget floods your mind without warning.
I see the confusion and frustration on my clients' faces when we talk about this pattern. "I'm doing everything right," they tell me. "I'm staying busy, distracting myself, pushing those thoughts away the moment they show up. So why do they keep coming back even stronger?"
Here's the thing about our brains - they're like persistent toddlers with an important message. The harder we try to ignore them, the louder they're going to get.
Let me tell you about Jamie (not their real name), who came to therapy bewildered by increasingly vivid nightmares. "I'm handling everything so well during the day," they said, pride and confusion mixing in their voice. "I barely think about what happened anymore. But at night? It's like my brain is stuck on replay."
I smiled, recognizing a pattern I've seen hundreds of times in my therapy room. What Jamie saw as "handling things well" was actually making their symptoms worse - and they're not alone. So many of us are accidentally amplifying our own distress by doing what seems completely logical: trying not to think about it.
Think of it this way: I have a challenge for you. For the next 60 seconds, whatever you do, do not think about a purple elephant wearing roller skates. Don't picture its big floppy ears, or the way it wobbles as it rolls down the street. Don't imagine the sound of those wheels on pavement.
What happened? If you're like most people, that purple elephant just became the star of your mental show.
This is what trauma researchers call the paradoxical effect of suppression. Dr. Daniel Wegner's research shows that trying to suppress thoughts actually increases their frequency and intensity. It's like putting a spring under pressure - the harder you push down, the more forcefully it bounces back.
Recent neuroscience studies support this. When we actively avoid traumatic memories, we're inadvertently telling our brain, "This is too dangerous to think about!" Our amygdala - the brain's alarm system - takes note. "Must be really dangerous," it thinks, "better keep a close watch for anything related to this threat."
So what happens? Your brain starts working overtime, especially when your guard is down. This is why these memories often surge up:
Just as you're falling asleep
During long drives
In the shower
While exercising
During quiet moments alone
It's like your brain has been waiting all day for a chance to process what happened, and it pounces the moment you're not actively fighting it off.
I remember Sarah (name changed), who described it perfectly: "It's like I'm playing whack-a-mole with my own memories. The harder I hit them down, the faster they pop up somewhere else."
The solution? It might feel counterintuitive, but we need to give our brains what they're desperately asking for - safe opportunities to process these memories.
Think back to being a child. Remember when an adult told you not to look in a certain box or go in a specific room? Suddenly, that box or room became the most fascinating thing in the world. Your brain became laser-focused on the forbidden object.
Our traumatic memories work the same way. The more we label them as "do not enter" zones in our minds, the more our brain obsesses over them. It's not trying to torture us - it's trying to keep us safe by making sure we process important information about potential threats.
So what can we do instead?
Create Safe Processing Windows: Instead of pushing memories away all day, set aside specific times to acknowledge them. Maybe it's 15 minutes each evening to journal, or a weekly therapy session. This tells your brain, "I hear you, and we'll make time for this."
Practice Gentle Acknowledgment: When memories arise, try saying, "I see you, and this isn't the right time. We'll come back to this at [specific time]." This is different from pure avoidance - you're making a promise to your brain rather than slamming the door in its face.
Build a Safety Container: Work with a therapist to create a safe environment for processing. This gives your brain what it wants - a chance to work through the memory - without becoming overwhelmed.
I watched this transformation with Jamie. As they learned to stop fighting their brain's natural processing attempts, their nightmares gradually became less intense. "It's like my brain finally believes me," they said. "It knows I'm not going to ignore it anymore, so it doesn't have to scream to get my attention."
Remember, your brain isn't your enemy here. Those intrusive memories, as uncomfortable as they are, represent your mind's devoted attempt to protect you by processing important information. When we work with this natural process instead of against it, we often find that our minds can finally begin to quiet.
The path to healing isn't about pushing harder against those memories. It's about learning to listen to what they're trying to tell us, one gentle moment at a time.
Your Trauma Therapist by Lauren Auer, LCPC is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. For more content follow me on Instagram.
With my lived and professional experience of trauma healing this article is spot on. Thank you.
One important healing strategy for me is embracing slow living and creating space for my emotions, grief recovery and trauma healing. I mostly use nature, writing and meditation for this.
I also reframe insomnia as my mind needing to process stuff. So I make myself a hot drink and embrace the stillness of the night which facilitates connection to my emotions so I can better release and ease them. I’m lucky I’ve got flexible work so I can catch up on lost sleep with a short afternoon Power Nap.
Great writing — thank you for opening up a space for this conversation.
The harder we fight a memory, the deeper it digs in — like trying to shove water uphill with our hands.
Naming it, letting it exist without trying to fix it right away, feels like one of the few ways to stop being eaten alive by it.
Glad I stopped to read this today.