Negativity Bias
I hope this one opens your mind and heart—and you don’t hate it. But if you do, we can talk about it.
Read or listen… notice where you are and where this takes you.
Do you ever work really hard at something and hear from almost everyone how great it is?
But then there’s one person in the back of the room trying to be seen that says something negative—and all you can think about is what that one person said.
And often, it says more about them than you.
At least you’re not alone. I wonder if this is God’s way of making sure that we don't get too full of ourselves—keeping us human… so to speak.
The truth is that research and my own clinical and personal experience, which is not insignificant, are remarkably in agreement on this one. We all have a proclivity to protect ourselves by thinking about what we did wrong—even if it was only wrong for someone else.
Yeah, and we sometimes use big words that keep us at a distance too.
Experiencing trauma can wire this tendency into our brains even more, reminding us that we can’t really trust ourselves or the world—just waiting for the next bad thing to happen.
And life never disappoints us.
Although this bias may have helped us survive, in the long run it can end up hurting us. We live in fear and shame instead—not really living our lives. Then, we don’t open the door—reluctant to take a chance of getting hurt again.
Sound like a familiar story? Some call it negativity bias. It’s something we inherit and can pass down from generation to generation—the gift of trauma that just keeps giving, especially when we don’t see it coming or don’t know when it has arrived.
If this is part of our humanness, the question is: how do we use this bias in a positive way rather than hurting ourselves or others?
Good question. It would be nice if we were given an instruction manual. Some call it their Bible—a book of wisdom to learn from… not use against others.
I don’t expect you to have all the answers—just to keep asking the questions—not assuming that others see things the way you do or that we have to do things their way.
I know it’s not easy. Our design may be imperfect, but to me that just means we have the capacity for healing. And that’s hard to beat… no matter how hard you try or how much you beat up on yourself.
And it really doesn’t matter where you’re sitting in the room.
Our power is in our ability to listen and learn—not trying to continue to win this game of ping-pong, or compete in a pissing contest that only ends up with each of us losing.
We can all win by protecting one another and affirming our truths. Nice idea, right? Simple but true. My Core Self suspects that others believe that too, and I don’t feel so tired anymore.
To take this glimmer of light further, I think that just like our emotions—positive and negative—we all need each other. If we start judging and pushing people away because they’re different, we only hurt ourselves.
The bottom line is that we can learn a lot from our negativity bias. We’re all imperfect and that’s what makes us human. If we see people as infections that need to be quarantined and eliminated, we only end up sitting alone with an infection of our own, which can often turn into a disease that is even more contagious and deadly—especially without a vaccine.
You can isolate yourself on an island and pretend that you own the world. You may have a lot of money and power, but how successful is that if you don’t have anyone to share it with?
That’s negativity bias… and I don’t need to tell you how that story ends. That’s an old one.
Leaning in with my heart, I just want you to know that I appreciate your presence—even though I’ve never met many of you. Give yourself space to be seen in a way you truly deserve, and do the same with others—not just the ones you love, but those who hate you, too.
And even though it may be hard to admit, I’m pretty sure the feeling goes both ways.
Yeah, my mom always told me not to use the “h” word. Perhaps she didn’t want me to have a negativity bias—wise woman.
Take this message forward in your life and spread the word. Let the light sit side by side with the darkness, and see where that takes you.
Notice how the negativity moves to the back of the room… as we see more of the light of invisibility instead.
Let me know if it’s not okay to pull up my chair next to yours. It feels right to me.
Doing this work of hearts… together. My favorite “h” word.
Ha… and we’re not alone anymore.
Dedication: To all those on this journey of heart, moving from room to room, remembering themselves—and who we are together.
Gratitude: With appreciation for those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine in return.
Confidentiality note: This piece was inspired by someone close to my heart, but is a composite of many people I know—inside and outside of schoolpp of therapy. Any resemblance to your own life or our shared experience is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? You’re welcome to reach me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close… or long to be closer to.
About me: Besides being a writer, Marc Cecil is a doctoral-level licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. An experienced psychotherapist, supervisor, consultant, and teacher, Marc uses an integrated experiential model called Core Self Integration Therapy (CSIT)—grounded in our capacity for adaptive change—to help people heal from complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma. Some refer to it as Elephant Work.
Dr. Cecil lives in Vermont near the shores of Lake Bomoseen, where his heartfelt stories and images of connection arise from the light of invisibility—bringing life to therapy and therapy to life.
Stay tuned for more—as this living model continues to grow—with self-compassion leading the way around the world… and back home.
a