When Good Things Sabotage Our Narratives.

Cognitive Dissonance seems to be one of those things that we experience all the time but don’t always recognize it.

We recognize that shock that comes after it especially when it’s a good thing.

When an experience we have or person we encounter ends up being better than we expect it to be some people think “Wow, that went better than I thought!”

Then we can unclench our fists, let out a good sigh. Relief that hits the body like a glass of cold water on a hot summer day.

Then there are others who just tighten their grip and say things like: “No, this wasn’t real. There’s a catch somewhere. They’re trying to manipulate me.”

Even if the evidence clearly states otherwise.

I’ve seen those in certain political groups that go to an event from the other side, and genuinely have a good time. But struggle to admit it and may even denounce it so they can either remain vindicated or stay loyal to a narrative.

On the flip side you have those such as the many foreigners who traveled to the United States for the World Cup concerned about what they would face because of what their countries’ media told them about America. Then returning home, some in shock or even tears because of how good of an experience they had.

This is what is certain media narratives can do to us. They attempt to lock us in to a specific viewpoint or perspective. So not only do we not want to explore things for ourselves, our brains don’t compute when we see goodness that counters that narrative.

However, this isn’t just limited to media and politics. It happens in our own lives too. With friends, families, neighbors, coworkers etc. We construct narratives not just to feel vindicated but to feel safe.

When someone or something feels too good for us to be true we may fear it and then try to control it.

I recently visited one of my aunts in her new apartment. She and my uncle have a german shepherd known for being a bit ornery at times.

My aunt told me he didn’t really like men. He barked and growled at me, the only man there. My mom, aunt and younger cousin of mine all tried to calm him down.

But a strange thing happened.

He went get quiet and ease in close to my face, like he was curious. I’d pet him or scratch him behind the ear. He would enjoy it and then suddenly pull away and start barking again.

Then he'd ease in again.

I found a "good spot" that made his back leg start going. When I stopped he would get closer quietly like he was part wanting more, and part trying to figure me out.

Then back to barking. The pattern continued until he got distracted by the cat.

I figured that I was a good that he didn’t understand and so even though he wanted the love, he was afraid so he tried to assert dominance and control.

And didn't really seem to like that I was loving on him or that he enjoyed it.

Individuals with ADHD and RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) can have the same issue, though it’s unwanted. I’m in this camp too.

I’ve almost train-wrecked friendships with people I’ve known for years because I misinterpreted an action or response or lack of one to be rejection.

Or my brain would just automatically fire defensive measures in my body to prepare me for the “inevitable rejection” whether real or imagined.

My brain would fire off this narrative or something like it: “This person hates me. I did something to mess this up! I need to just walk away from the whole friendship to protect myself! How could they possibly do this to me?”

My emotions can go from 0-100 as sadness, anger, fear or all three at the same time.

This could even manifest as physical symptoms such as headache, stomachaches or other things.

Even as my rational brain said: “They probably just got busy. They still care about you. Just ask for clarity if you’re worried about it etc.

Then I’d have to go through the effort of putting out fires in my head before they spread.

That's something I've struggled with my whole life and couldn't put a name to RSD until a couple of years ago. But I'm not alone in this pattern, even if most people don't have a clinical name for it. Most of us are living this push-pull, this approach and retreat, without language for what's happening.

Most of us live this approach-and-retreat without a clinical name for it.

And that's the thing about cognitive dissonance. It's everywhere, happening all the time, but we don't recognize it. We don't have language for it. We just feel the shock, the tightening, the need to control or reject the good thing standing right in front of us.

Naming it doesn't fix it. We still have those fires to put out. We still misread silence as rejection sometimes. But recognition is something. It's the difference between being trapped in a pattern and being able to see it happening.

It's the first step toward breaking free, not just in our personal relationships, but in how we consume media, how we engage across political divides, how we respond when reality contradicts the stories we've been told.

The pattern is everywhere. In the traveler who can't admit their trip went well because it would betray their country's narrative. In the person who attends a political event and has a genuinely good time but can't say so out loud. In the friend who pulls away the moment things get too good, too close, too real. In all of us, every time we feel that tightening, that urge to bark and retreat from the very thing we've been wanting all along.

Recognition doesn't solve it. But it's how we learn to stay long enough to accept the good things we've been afraid of. It's how we stop letting fear and narrative control what we're allowed to experience, believe, or become.

And that's another way we can live free.