and selfish, warping reality to conform to his whims and fancies, which are
then never satiated. His crisis of hope is that no matter how much he eats,
drinks, dominates, or fucks, it will never be enough—it will never matter
enough, it will never feel significant enough. He will be on a perpetual
treadmill of desperation, always running, though never moving. And if at any
point he stops, the Uncomfortable Truth immediately catches up to him.
I know. I’m being dramatic again. But I have to be, Thinking Brain.
Otherwise, the Feeling Brain will get bored and close this book. Ever wonder
why a page-turner is a page-turner? It’s not you turning those pages, idiot; it’s
your Feeling Brain. It’s the anticipation and suspense; the joy of discovery
and the satisfaction of resolution. Good writing is writing that is able to speak
to and stimulate both brains at the same time.
And this is the whole problem: speaking to both brains, integrating our
brains into a cooperative, coordinated, unified whole. Because if self-control
is an illusion of the Thinking Brain’s overblown self-regard, then it’s self-
acceptance that will save us—accepting our emotions and working with them
rather than against them. But to develop that self-acceptance, we have to do
some work, Thinking Brain. Let’s talk. Meet me in the next section.
An Open Letter to Your Thinking Brain
Hey, Thinking Brain.
How are things? How’s the family? How’d that tax situation work out?
Oh, wait. Never mind. I forgot—I don’t fucking care.
Look, I know there’s something the Feeling Brain is screwing up for you.
Maybe it’s an important relationship. Maybe it’s causing you to make
embarrassing phone calls at 3:00 a.m. Maybe it’s constantly medicating itself
with substances it probably shouldn’t be using. I know there’s something you
wish you could control about yourself but can’t. And I imagine, at times, this
problem causes you to lose hope.
But listen, Thinking Brain, those things you hate so much about your
Feeling Brain—the cravings, the impulses, the horrible decision making? You
need to find a way to empathize with them. Because that’s the only language
the Feeling Brain really understands: empathy. The Feeling Brain is a
sensitive creature; it’s made out of your damn feelings, after all. I wish it
weren’t true. I wish you could just show it a spreadsheet to make it
understand—you know, like we understand. But you can’t.
Instead of bombarding the Feeling Brain with facts and reason, start by
asking how it’s feeling. Say something like “Hey, Feeling Brain, how do you
feel about going to the gym today?” or “How do you feel about changing