Why I’d Be a Horrible Therapist

This may sound surprising, since I created a field of study around thoughts, but I’d be a horrible therapist.

What Thought Literacy Is and What I Do

My brain is built for patterns, systems, and concepts. I love understanding how thoughts work, why they behave the way they do, and creating tools to help people manage them. But guiding someone through their emotional process and sitting with their discomfort session after session is not where I’d thrive.

With thought literacy, I take complex topics and make them accessible and usable for everyday life. It fills the gap between psychological research and our daily experiences. On top of that, I identify gaps in the field of psychology itself and create new concepts, like cognitive clarities, which are the healthy models for cognitive distortions. When people have a healthy model to turn to, they’re better able to make change—it’s simply strategic.

To me, pragmatism and strategy are a love language.

Thought literacy also breaks down overly complex concepts and gives concrete, practical alternatives that are manageable for the average person. It gives tools, language, and frameworks to recognize, manage, and intentionally shape your thinking. Thought literacy makes mental health proactive, reduces barriers to psychological knowledge, fills gaps in existing frameworks, expands classic ideas into everyday habits, and even creates entirely new concepts where none existed before.

In short, I’m not just applying psychology, I’m advancing it in ways that are usable, practical, and applicable to real-world thinking.

Some people assume that talking about concepts like cognitive reframing means I’m trying to act like a therapist. But you don’t have to be a therapist to learn psychological ideas, which is a foundational principle of thought literacy (and kinda why thought literacy was created.)

Why I Don’t Want to Be a Therapist

Short answer: it doesn’t interest me.

When someone shares their experience, I’m not listening to emotionally connect or help them process trauma or feelings. I’m listening to identify patterns, or see if their experience resembles something I’ve heard before. This allows me to help that person and improve the thought literacy framework which will then, in turn, help others.

For example, while writing Overthink, I asked over 300 self-identified overthinkers why they tend to overthink and aggregated that data to identify the five primary things people overthink about and the three common thought habits that lead to “overthinking.”

“Part memoir, part straight-talking guidebook, this resource can help create lasting positive change. Overthink is like having a highly trained expert by your side, guiding you to stop negative self-talk and think productively.”
— Review of Overthink by a licensed clinical psychologist with over thirty years of experience

This may sound similar to therapy, since thoughts (and sometimes emotions) are involved, and while I create a supportive and validating space for people to share their inner worlds, I’m not interested in sitting with someone for a long, deep dive into their emotional life.

Why Thought Literacy Fits Me

Thought literacy operates at a system level, while therapy operates at a person one. I care deeply about helping people learn, but I’d rather come up with widely usable techniques and processes, not talk about the inner landscape of one individual at a time.

I don’t enjoy holding space for trauma work or emotional venting. My interest is in growth: helping people understand themselves, think more consciously, and make better choices. While this can lead to healing, and I’m excited when thought literacy helps people work through difficult experiences, therapy is the official place for processing pain.

Therapy is incredibly valuable work. It’s just not mine.

This Doesn’t Mean I’m Anti-Therapy

When I say I am not a therapist, or when I critique aspects of psychology, some people assume I hate all therapists or despise the field. That’s extreme all-or-nothing thinking, and simply not true.

Before creating thought literacy, I spoke to my own therapist to make sure she knew I would never try to discredit therapists or their contributions. She made such a positive impact on my life I acknowledge her in my first book, and I don’t think I would have been able to transition into this work without her helping me come back to myself.

Thought literacy expands, builds on, and complements therapy but doesn’t replace it.

I also greatly admire the field of psychology and those who contributed to it, like Aaron Beck. But no field is beyond reproach. Criticism is not hatred; it’s saying, “I see you, but I think we can do it better,” and it’s where human innovation grows.

What This Looks Like

While I care about people and want them to do their best, the best way for me to help is to lean into my natural talents: strategy, insight, and pattern recognition. My focus is on the structure and function of thinking, not the full narrative of someone’s emotional life.

For instance, while I was watching a documentary about Scientology which included voice overs of intimate thoughts people shared with the organization. I wasn’t interested in the details of their emotional struggles; I was listening for patterns and common vulnerabilities the organization exploited.

So while I create terms to help you describe your inner world, and, ideally, protect you from people with bad intentions, a therapist is the person who will guide you through the emotional depth and healing that thought literacy doesn’t cover. My role is to give you the tools, the frameworks, and the clarity. You do the work, and a therapist supports you where I can’t.