This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
Check out my recent conversation with Niall for the Weekend University podcast.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
Check out my recent conversation with Niall for the Weekend University podcast.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
More sayings from the same passage in Epictetus’ Handbook. I’ll comment on each in turn.
If someone brings you word that So-and-so is speaking ill of you, do not defend yourself against what has been said, but answer, “Yes, indeed, for he did not know the rest of the faults that attach to me; if he had, these would not have been the only ones he mentioned.”
This seems like an example of humour, although making a serious point. We shouldn’t be concerned about people criticizing us. We should remind ourselves that we have many other flaws. Marcus Aurelius lists a similar strategy for coping with anger: reminding himself that he is imperfect himself and has many flaws and perhaps given the opportunity would make the same mistakes as the person he’s angry with. It’s also an example of the Stoics practicing Socratic irony, or intellectual humility, by emphasizing their own fallibility and imperfection.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
In this article, I’m going to explain why I think the concept of “intolerance” is so useful in understanding and overcoming anger.
One of the fundamental dilemmas of human life, with which the Stoics among others wrestled, is what I call “squaring the circle of concern.” How do we care enough about the world to live ethically, and avoid indifference, but not so much that we drive ourselves crazy? Where is the via media, the middle way, between apathy and neuroticism? The sweet spot, for example, is to be able to disapprove of injustice, without getting depressed or enraged about it.
In this article, I’ll draw on some ideas from Stoic philosophy and Albert Ellis’ Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy (REBT). Ellis proposed that most of our emotional problems are rooted in rigid and absolute demands, such as “must”, “have to”, “got to”, and “need to” statements. These sorts of attitudes are usually front and centre in anger, where we may, for instance, become enraged because we feel that “People MUST respect me” — when that inevitably does not happen, frustration and anger follow. REBT challenges these attitudes.
Ellis identified several other types of irrational beliefs that play a role in anger and other emotions. These are awfulizing, or exaggerating how bad something is, self-downing or other-downing, judging yourself or another person to be worthless and rotten through and through, and what Ellis called Low Frustration Tolerance (LFT). LFT originally referred to the belief that it is completely unbearable when our desires, or rigid demands, are not met — the attitude that ensuing feelings of frustration simply cannot be endured. This can be expressed in a variety of ways. When you catch yourself saying that something is “intolerable”, “unbearable”, that it’s “too much”, “overwhelming”, or that you “can’t stand it”, that’s Low Frustration Tolerance. Ellis also liked to call it I-can’t-stand-it-itis.
Over time that concept became slightly broader in scope. Sometimes it’s referred to more generally as Low Discomfort Tolerance. It is related to a family of other concepts that have become increasingly important in modern clinical psychology, such as intolerance of uncertainty, intolerance of anxiety, and so on. I therefore tend to think quite broadly in terms of attitudes of intolerance that maintain emotional problems. You may be intolerant of internal thoughts or feelings, or external people or events. If I firmly believe that I cannot stand something, I will probably also feel that I absolutely must avoid or get rid of it.
Not all beliefs are created equal. Different types of beliefs function differently, in relation to our emotions, and respond to different forms of cognitive disputation in therapy. For that reason, over time, I’ve come to place more emphasis on challenging Low Frustration Tolerance and other attitudes of intolerance. Where these beliefs are hidden, it’s worth seeking them out, as there are potential benefits to attacking the emotional problem from this angle, especially in the case of anger.
Let me give some examples. Stress and emotions such as anxiety and anger have, since the 1960s, often been interpreted in terms of dual-factor models of cognitive appraisal, based on the work of a pioneering researcher called Richard Lazarus. Lazarus distinguished between:
Primary appraisal of threat, the perception that some event has or is about to harm you or your interests
Secondary appraisal of coping, the sense of your own capacity to deal with the threat, which is further divided into problem-oriented (“How do I fix this?”) and emotion-oriented (“How do I learn to live with this?”) styles of coping
Of course, similar ideas already existed, and Ellis, who developed his approach prior to this research, back in the 1950s, can be viewed as talking about exaggerated threat appraisal as “awfulizing” and negative appraisal of (emotional) coping as Low Frustration Tolerance.
Exaggerated threat appraisal tends to get all of the attention. However, strengthening coping appraisal has many benefits. If I challenge how “awful” some event is, the new attitude will tend to be limited to similar situations. However, when I improve my confidence and flexibility in terms of coping, the change in attitude often generalizes much more, creating improved emotional resilience in a broader sense. If I can cope with this, I can cope with anything! Or at least, I can cope with a bunch of other problems in life. That’s arguably because the threat appraisal usually applies to a specific type of situation, whereas the coping appraisal is about me — it changes my attitude toward myself, my self-image, and I bring that to every future situation.
Building High Frustration Tolerance is the royal road to emotional resilience.
Building High Frustration Tolerance is the royal road to emotional resilience. You can think of tolerance or acceptance, and related concepts, as forms of emotion-oriented coping. If tolerance is a general strategy for coping we can perhaps break it down into specific tactics, at a more granular level, such as refraining from avoidance or any struggle against our feelings. We may also learn to tolerate discomfort or unpleasant experiences by finding a new perspective on them, perhaps viewing them not as threats but rather as opportunities for personal growth. You may find that physical techniques help you to accept unpleasant feelings, such as breathing deeply through the discomfort. In fact, there are many other ways in which you can help yourself to cultivate greater tolerance or acceptance but, at least in my view, the most important, and most elegant, solution is to change your underlying attitude to one of greater confidence in your willingness and ability to cope. You already have numerous skills and resources, more than you assume, which will help you to endure the things you previously avoided, without getting enraged about them.
Developing more tolerance and acceptance can also contribute to a sense of fulfilment, insofar as it can be directly linked to character strengths and core values. Ask yourself what sort of people you admire and what sort of person you want to be? What sort of character do you value? Do you want to be a wise human being? Someone who exhibits temperance? A good husband or wife, a good parent, a good boss? How does greater tolerance of discomfort or situations and people you dislike potentially shape your character — what virtues does it exemplify?
Again, with all this talk of acceptance, tolerance, bearing things, and accepting things, you may worry that it’s going to turn you into a doormat. That’s the most common objection people have. However, try to distinguish emotional acceptance from moral acceptance. You can accept the reality and even the inevitability that people will sometimes do unjust things, and cope emotionally, without resigning yourself to passivity or inertia.
In fact, the great paradox of acceptance is that it is often only by learning to tolerate the experience that we can actually change the outcome. If you want to fight injustice, in other words, you would be much better to accept that people are fallible, and stop complaining about it and upsetting yourself excessively. Instead, face the facts, disapprove of it without getting worked up about it, and start figuring out what you can actually do to make the world a better place. Think of “This must not happen!” and “I can’t stand it!” as crossing the line from desire into a form of denial — but you will need to adopt a more realistic attitude if you want to solve problems.
You can often infer intolerant beliefs from other beliefs, such as rigid demands. If you feel that you “must” have something, it arguably implies that you can’t stand not getting it. Here are some common rigid demands that characterize anger with examples of corresponding intolerant beliefs.
“People must respect me.” > “I can’t stand the idea that someone has disrespected me.”
“People must do what I want.” > “I can’t stand it when someone doesn’t do what I want.”
“People must agree with my opinions.” > “I can’t stand it when people disagree with me.”
“I must vent my feelings to gain relief.” > “I can’t stand experiencing these feelings without expressing them.”
“I must suppress my feelings and avoid the ideas that upset me.” > “I can’t stand experiencing these feelings or the ideas that upset me.”
“I must ruminate about my feelings and dwell on the things that upset me.” > “I can’t stand having these feelings without ruminating about them, and leaving problems unresolved.”
“I must retaliate against the people who upset me.” > “I can’t stand the idea of letting someone who offended me get away with it and go unpunished.”
Settle on one rigid or extreme belief that expresses your intolerance, and begin challenging it systematically. Here are some questions that may help you:
Define “intolerable”? Do you really mean that it’s impossible to endure or just very difficult and unpleasant to endure?
Where is the evidence that you literally can’t stand this?
Haven’t you already managed to endure similar, or even worse, things in the past?
How does it logically follow, just because you really don’t like it, that you’re completely incapable of tolerating it?
Do other people, such as wise and rational individuals, believe that similar experiences are intolerable?
Is it potentially just a self-fulfilling prophecy: whether you believe you “can” or “cannot” tolerate this, either way, won’t you prove yourself right?
When you say you “can’t stand” this, are you just exaggerating how bad it is?
Could you be underestimating your ability to cope?
Is it really all-or-nothing? How intolerable is it on a scale from 0-100%? Why is it not 100% intolerable?
Would it be tolerable in another context, such as in a different time or place? How can it be inherently intolerable if sometimes it’s tolerable and sometimes it isn’t?
Does how intolerable it seems not depend on how you choose to cope with it?
What resources, character strengths, or skills, do you have that would potentially allow you to endure this?
Where does telling yourself it’s intolerable get you in the long-run?
What would you potentially gain by tolerating it?
How is intolerance for this consistent with your core values and the type of person you want to be in life?
As you practice disputing your rigid beliefs, you will naturally begin to formulate more rational and flexible ways of thinking, which exemplify greater tolerance of discomfort, and the events and people who were triggering your anger.
Here are some examples of more adaptive beliefs:
“I don’t like it when people disrespect me but I can endure it and I will survive.”
“I prefer it when people do what I want but if they don’t, I can live with that.”
“I like it when people agree with me but if they don’t, I can handle that.”
“I can accept unpleasant feelings, and endure the discomfort, without having to vent them.”
“I don’t like these thoughts and feelings but I can experience them without having to try to get rid of them.”
“I can tolerate having these feelings without ruminating about them.”
“I don’t like it when people upset me but I can handle accepting the feelings and letting things go, without the need to retaliate.”
Find rational alternatives to the specific forms of intolerance that were contributing to your anger. Practice repeating them as coping statements every day, until they become second nature. Carry out regular “exposure based” behavioural experiments by facing your triggers and rehearsing rational and tolerant ways of thinking, like those above, until you actually begin to feel less angry. For instance, if the news makes you angry, sit down very deliberately at a specified time each day and watch the most annoying broadcasters you can find. (This is easy if you’re an American because the major news channels often seem deliberately designed to rage farm!) Make yourself listen to politicians you “can’t stand” giving speeches. As you do so, just remember, your goal isn’t to rehearse the irrational and extreme thinking we talked about earlier, your old habits, but to rehearse the new flexible way of thinking, and create new habits.
Your goal is neither apathy nor outrage but rational concern and healthy disapproval — the middle way. “I really don’t like what this politician is doing, but I can stand it without getting angry”, “I really strongly object to the injustices around the world, but I can tolerate learning about them without getting highly upset”, and so on. If you want to think about this in terms of modern affective neuroscience, you are training repeatedly yourself, in response to your anger triggers, to get into the habit of shifting dominance from your limbic system, the primitive emotional FEAR system, to your prefrontal cortex, and a rational problem-solving mode of functioning.
Later in his career, Ellis increasingly focused on the ideal of unconditional acceptance. He distinguished between self-acceptance, other-acceptance, and life-acceptance. Sometimes, especially if you’ve already made progress on changing your attitudes, and developing high frustration tolerance, in specific situations, it can be helpful to focus on the more general goal of developing an attitude of unconditional acceptance toward yourself and other people. Again, that doesn’t mean doing nothing to prevent unethical or unjust behaviour. On the contrary, it means accepting reality at an emotional level, abandoning denial, and being prepared to make realistic changes.
I sometimes approach this by asking: “What prevents you from just accepting yourself and other people, unconditionally, warts and all?” For example, try disputing these beliefs:
“I cannot accept myself unconditionally, as an imperfect and fallible human being.”
“I cannot accept other people unconditionally, as imperfect and fallible human beings.”
Where’s the evidence for those “I can’t” beliefs? Objectively speaking, how true is this in reality 0-100%? Why don’t you believe it 100%? Where do they get you in the long-run? What might you potentially gain by adopting an attitude of unconditional acceptance?
Once you’ve become more skilled and confident at disputing any intolerance of your own or other people’s imperfections, in general, you can practice replacing it with an attitude of rational acceptance. For example:
“I don’t like it when I make mistakes, or exhibit flaws, but I can nevertheless accept myself unconditionally as an imperfect and fallible human being.”
“I don’t like it when other people make mistakes, or exhibit flaws, but I can nevertheless accept them unconditionally as imperfect and fallible human beings.”
Often you’ll find that you benefit from going back and forth, occasionally, between rehearsing more specific attitudes toward certain feelings or external triggers, and more general attitudes of unconditional acceptance. It’s not easy. It takes patience and effort. But in this way you’ll transform a lot of anger and frustration into healthy concern, and a mindset more capable of problem-solving.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
In this article, I’m going to describe in plain language how I advise people to cope with anxiety, anger, sadness, and other troubling emotions.
Most of the coaching that I currently do draws on the Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy (REBT) of Albert Ellis, as well as elements of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) and other modern evidence-based therapies. However, I use a version of Aaron T. Beck’s AWARE acronym, from Cognitive Therapy, to summarize my advice about coping with certain emotions, as I find that can make the steps easier to remember.
A = Accept your Feelings
W = Watch your Thoughts
A = Act in Accord with your Values
R = Repeat Rational Statements
E = Exercise Between Episodes
I suggest that, to get started, you give yourself “self-instructions”, as if coaching yourself verbally, in your mind, through various changes in attitude, attention, and behaviour. For example: “Slow down, pause, notice your anger”, etc. Over time, however, you’ll be able to abbreviate these instructions, and finally abandon most of them. Self-talk works best as a temporary stepping-stone until, through practice, you’ve completely internalized your own guidance and the coping skills it describes have become second nature. In particular, you will probably find that in a stressful situation it can overload your brain if you try to give yourself too many verbal instructions at once.
So begin, very simply, by coaching yourself through the acceptance part below. Next, perhaps after several days, shift the emphasis to watching your thoughts. Once you’ve made some more progress, begin repeating a rational coping statement. That’s the most systematic way to proceed but you can also pick the instructions you find most helpful and just focus on those for a while. Remember, consistency is the goal rather than perfection. You will gain both skill and confidence with practice.
Most people blur the distinction between their initial automatic feelings and the layers of feelings that they create in response. We very often get second-order distress by making ourselves upset about getting upset. You may get anxious about your anxiety, sadness, or anger; sad about your sadness, anxiety, or anger; angry about your anger, anxiety, or sadness, and so on, piling pain on top of pain. Second order distress not only adds another layer to our initial suffering, it often prevents the original feelings from running their course naturally, and fading over time — getting upset with yourself in this way, in other words, can lock your painful emotions in place and perpetuate them indefinitely.
So look out for the earliest signs of anxiety or other emotions and accept the initial surge of feeling without adding to it. Peel back the label “ANXIETY”, “SADNESS”, “ANGER”, or whatever you call it, and look long and hard at the raw sensations underneath — perhaps your heart is beating faster than normal, or some tension in your muscles. Often these are sensations you experience in other contexts — such as during exercise or when overjoyed — without any suffering at all. View these raw sensations as natural and harmless, therefore, and allow them to come and go freely. The struggle just makes you tense up — but you’re battling against yourself. By accepting your feelings and letting go of any struggle against them, ironically, you’ll find they become less of a problem. Your brain will be able to process them naturally and move on in its own time. Feelings seldom remain the same — they’re transient and dynamic. Your initial surge of emotion will usually abate naturally, if you stop fighting to control or avoid it. So grasp the nettle and consciously decide to sit with your painful feelings for longer than normal.
Many people report that it helps to consciously tell themselves to slow down, pause, and wait for their feelings to run their course. You can literally tell yourself: “Stop”, “Wait”, “Slow down”, “Just a minute” — to buy yourself time. Sometimes this is called: Stop and Think. It only takes a few moments to shift the balance back in your favour. At first, you may also find it helpful to say to yourself: “I notice anger”, “I feel anxiety”, “This is sadness emerging”, etc. This is called “affect labelling” — just naming the feeling without evaluation — and many people find it surprisingly helpful.
If you have enough mental bandwidth, and want to go further, you could try saying “Right now, I am aware of tensing my shoulders” or “Right now, I am aware of my heart beating a little faster”, saying these words slowly to ground your attention for longer than normal in your bodily sensations at a more granular level. Doing this helps to shift your brain’s activity away from being dominated by emotional circuits, such as what neuroscientists call the FEAR, RAGE, or GRIEF systems, and toward executive control, and the prefrontal cortex — the part of the brain designed for rational problem-solving.
Some people find it helps to take a deep breath, and to let go of some tension — just introducing more of a pause, without trying too hard to relax. Over time, you will probably find you can slow down, pause, shift your awareness onto your feelings, accept them completely, and so on, without having to give yourself explicit verbal instructions. If you’re really feeling overwhelmed, just focus on this initial stage, and come back to the rest of the AWARE acronym later. You will find, however, that as you get better and more consistent at shifting your attention onto your feelings and accepting them for longer than normal, it becomes much easier for you to observe your own thoughts impartially.
Accepting your feelings is very important but it’s also necessary to detach from unhelpful thoughts and attitudes. The first step is to notice what they are. You may be very conscious of certain words or sentences flashing through your mind — we call these negative automatic thoughts. In many cases, though, you’ll have to infer what your underlying thoughts are in the situation. That’s often obvious from your feelings and actions. For instance, you may be acting as if you believe the situation is extremely bad or dangerous or as if you’re harshly blaming yourself or someone else. You will often notice that the more intense your feelings are, the more rigid and extreme your thinking tends to become. The first step in becoming aware of your thoughts, if they are not already consciously verbalized, is to put them into words. During an episode of strong emotion, you’ll typically have limited time and mental bandwidth available, so don’t overthink this, but do try to articulate what it feels as if you’re thinking.
Observe your thought in real-time, as they happen, almost as if you’re observing someone else’s thoughts. You can help yourself do this by slowing them down or repeating them in a sing-song voice or a different accent. When you’re ready, or if it seems helpful, you can do this instead of giving yourself instructions to accept your feelings. Moreover, if you have the time, you can say to yourself “Right now, I am having the thought ‘________’”, and then name the thought. View it as if you’re placing it inside scare quotes or as if you’re writing it down on a piece of paper, in your mind. The key to accepting upsetting thoughts without buying into them, is to shift perspective in this way, as if you’re looking at them from a different angle, with a sense of curiosity and detachment. Similarly, instead of thinking “This is awful” some people prefer to slow down, pause, and tell themselves “I am currently evaluating this as awful”, in order to take more ownership over their thinking.
At first, the best advice is usually to do nothing, except wait, in most situations where you experience unhealthy emotions. The biggest step is abandoning unhealthy coping strategies such as avoidance, seeking reassurance from others, rumination or worrying, venting, and so on. Don’t do anything that’s going to cause more problems, in other words. Just buy yourself time, while you focus on accepting your feelings and watching your thoughts with detachment. If there’s a real problem, and it isn’t absolutely urgent, you will often find it’s better to defer trying to think of a solution until later when your feelings have naturally abated, and you’re able to think more calmly and rationally — as in “worry postponement”. Likewise, if you’re getting upset with another person, it’s often best to take a “time out” until you’ve regained your composure, before deciding what to say to them. Even the most “assertive” words can come across as aggressive if said through gritted teeth, while emotions are still heated.
Ultimately, though, it’s useful to consider acting in a way that’s in accord with your core character-based values (aka “virtues”) rather than driven by how you feel. For many people, one of the most fundamental changes comes simply by realizing that just because you feel like doing something, it doesn’t mean you have to actually do it. When you feel anxious, you may have a powerful urge to flee the situation, for instance. If you value resilience, though, acting in accord with that may mean staying in the situation for longer. When people practice sitting with a feeling without doing what it seems to be demanding — like having an itch without scratching it — therapists call that “urge surfing”.
Here are some things you’re usually best to quit doing:
Avoiding unpleasant situations, procrastinating or putting them off, in a way that creates more problems than it solves.
Ruminating about the past trying to “understand what it means” or “learn something” in order to “fix” your problems
Worrying about the future and circular “What if this happens” / “How will I cope?” thinking.
Venting, complaining, arguing, or going on about your problems too much to other people.
Over-preparing for tasks, in a way that’s unhelpful and driven by anxiety.
Compulsive reassurance-seeking, which doesn’t solve your problems and makes you feel temporarily better but keeps your distress alive for longer.
Self-flagellation, self-criticism, beating yourself up, or giving yourself a hard time, in a way that’s meant to motivate self-improvement but actually does the opposite in the long-run.
Distraction, diversion, using drugs or alcohol, or pornography, in ways that temporarily relieve distress but don’t ultimately help you learn how to cope with your feelings or solve real problems.
Facing your fears and linking your actions to your core values has many psychological benefits, although it can take a little effort to adopt this perspective at first. It can also be helpful to think about the longer-term consequences of your actions. If you have the mental bandwidth available, you could ask yourself: “How will this work out for me?”, “Will I regret this later?” or “What would someone I admire do in this situation?” Notice that you don’t always have to be able to answer these questions. Simply asking them involves shifting your attention in a way that will tend to change the balance of your emotions, buy you more time, and allow you to bring your rational mode of thinking back to the fore.
When your emotions are strong, focus on acceptance and observation. Over time, by practising the steps above, you will probably find that you are able to catch emotions earlier, improve your self-awareness, sit with your feelings, notice your thoughts, and introduce more of a pause between stimulus and response. When your emotions have settled, you’ll be in a much better position to dispute unhelpful ways of thinking and challenge your underlying irrational beliefs.
When you’re ready, therefore, you may want to begin repeating a rational coping statement, derived from disputation exercises you’ve been doing between experiencing episodes of strong emotion (see below). Keep accepting your feelings and observing your negative thoughts and attitudes but, by this stage, you may find it easier to drop the self-instructions we mentioned above. Just focus on adopting the rational beliefs that are most relevant to your situation. For example:
“I really prefer it when people do what I want, but I don’t NEED them to do so.”
“This may be highly inconvenient but it’s not AWFUL.”
“I can accept myself as fallible; if I sometimes make mistakes, it doesn’t mean I’m a FAILURE.”
“This may be difficult and unpleasant but it’s not UNBEARABLE; I can cope”, and so on.
Repeat your self-statement about three times, as if you really believe it at an emotional level, and try to think, feel, and act as if that’s the type of person you are now becoming in these sorts of situations, and in life generally.
You can describe the steps above as reactive coping strategies, meaning that they’re designed to be quick and simple, for use when your emotions have already been triggered, and you may not have much time or mental capacity available. In addition to that, though, you should exercise before and after bouts of anxiety, and other troubling emotions. For example, I tend to encourage clients to challenge beliefs derived from the Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy (REBT) model of Albert Ellis, such as the following:
“Life MUST turn out how I want, otherwise it’s AWFUL.”
“People MUST approve of me, otherwise I’m WORTHLESS.”
“People MUST do what I want, otherwise they’re IDIOTS.”
“I MUST always succeed at what I do, otherwise I’m a FAILURE.”
“I MUST never feel anxious or upset otherwise it’s UNBEARABLE”, and so on.
Between times, when your emotions are not fully activated, you will have much more mental bandwidth available, which means you can actively dispute the underlying beliefs that cause your emotions, much more systematically and vigorously. For example, you may work on challenging your underlying beliefs in therapy or coaching sessions, or do so between sessions by completing a worksheet.
It’s a good idea to replace beliefs about unpleasant feelings being unbearable, which Ellis called “Low Frustration Tolerance” or “I-can’t-stand-it-itis”, with an attitude such as “I don’t like these feelings, but I can stand them.” That rational, flexible attitude toward will help you do the first A of AWARE by accepting your initial feelings. Certain ways of disputing the evidence for irrational beliefs can help you with the W of AWARE or watching thoughts in a detached manner, e.g., if asking “Where is this written in stone?” leads you to realize that your rigid rules, the SHOULDs and MUSTs, are subjective opinions not objective facts — they only exist in your head. Likewise, disputing beliefs about coping such as “I MUST seek reassurance whenever I feel upset” can help you with the second A and abandoning unhealthy emotion-driven behaviour.
You get back what you put into cognitive disputation. Challenging beliefs in writing can often make the ideas more memorable, precisely because it takes slightly more patience and effort. Keep challenging your core irrational beliefs from different angles — I can assure you there are lots of reasons why it’s irrational to rigidly demand things SHOULD be different that you don’t control, or that have already happened anyway. Persuade yourself that these are not facts but just subjective rules you’re imposing on yourself, or labels you’re attaching to people or events — it’s just a bunch of words you’re telling yourself at the end of the day. Changing your evaluative beliefs will, however, change your emotions to a greater extent than most people tend to assume.
Here’s a concrete example, for someone attempting to overcome anger in response to the perception that someone has insulted them.
A: Accepts the initial sensations and uncomfortable feelings, in this case feelings of emotional hurt that precede the anger, and sits with them for longer than normal, without responding. Initially, coaches himself through the process of coping with his feelings by instructing himself to “Slow down, pause”, etc. Practices affective labelling by telling himself: “I notice anger”, “Right now, I am clenching my jaw slightly”, etc. (Over time these self-instructions are faded, but the acceptance and self-awareness skills are maintained.)
W: Watches his thoughts from a detached perspective, e.g., notices thoughts such as “What a jerk!”, and “Why would anyone do that?” flashing through his mind. Also, notices that his unspoken attitude is “People MUST treat me with respect”, which he verbalizes to himself. Practices adopting a detached perspective by telling himself: “Right now, I am having the thought ‘What a jerk!’”, etc. (Again, this self-talk can be faded over time, as long as the skill of detachment remains.)
A: Acts in accord with his values, not acting out the anger. At first, he does nothing, but waits, rather than yelling or getting into an argument. He takes a time-out and excuses himself from the situation until he has regained his composure enough to respond rationally and assertively, in accord with the value he places on being wise and courageous.
R: During subsequent episodes, in addition to the preceding strategies, he begins repeating rational statements to himself, based on the disputation exercises he has been doing between sessions. For example, he tells himself, three times, “I don’t like it when people seem to disrespect me but I can handle it” or “I strongly prefer it when people treat me with respect but I don’t absolutely need them to do so; I can deal with it.” These rational coping statements replace the previous self-instructions. He repeats them as if he believes them 100% and tries to act accordingly.
E: Between episodes of anger he systematically challenges his irrational beliefs by disputing them in written exercises and in coaching sessions. He identifies irrational beliefs such as “People MUST respect me otherwise it’s AWFUL”, asking himself how this attitude can be realistic, rational, or helpful. He identifies rational alternative beliefs which can be turned into the brief rational coping statements above, for use during future episodes of anger.
Coping wisely with strong emotions, especially by using the skills above, will tend to weaken the underlying beliefs that predispose you to experience them. Likewise, challenging those beliefs between episodes, will tend to make it much easier for you to cope during episodes. In other words, there’s a reciprocal, or circular, relationship between proactive and reactive coping. By changing what you do between and during episodes of anxiety, sadness, or anger, you can create new habits and break the vicious cycle of unhealthy emotions.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
Check out my latest appearance on the Modern Wisdom podcast with Chris Williamson.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
This (modified) excerpt from How to Think Like Socrates, relates some of the events that occurred following the surrender of Athens at the conclusion of the Peloponnesian War.
Theramenes, after meeting with the Spartans, returned with the news that Athens would be spared if the Long Walls and fortifications of Piraeus were leveled and all but twelve of their ships given up. The Athenians, the terms read, must have “the same friends and enemies” as the Spartans, and be led by them in war, on land or sea. Finally, all exiles must be recalled, including aristocrats sympathetic to Sparta, who would form an oligarchic government. The Assembly was forced to accept. The Spartans proclaimed they had set all of Greece free from Athenian tyranny. While flute girls played in celebration, the defeated citizens of Athens were forced to tear down their precious defenses with their own hands.
The Athenian Assembly met, surrounded by soldiers, and appointed thirty Oligarchs to revise the constitution, modelling it on that of Sparta. The leaders were to be Critias, the former student of Socrates and friend of Alcibiades; Charicles, a radical who had led prosecutions over the scandal of the herms; and Theramenes, the moderate who had served as a general under Alcibiades and had been the first to call for his return from exile following the Sicilian Expedition. The Spartans left this junta to govern Athens on their behalf— they would later become infamous as the “Thirty Tyrants.”
The Oligarchs’ first step was to appoint their own magistrates.
Critias soon became intoxicated by his newfound power and, still bitter over his recent exile, he claimed his revenge. The Oligarchs’ first step was to appoint their own magistrates. In a move that earned praise from most of the citizens, they began prosecuting the paid informers used by Cleon and other demagogues. Before long, however, the Oligarchs also recruited three hundred lash- bearers to enforce their decrees. The citizens, too afraid to complain, watched powerless as the Thirty took the opportunity to settle old scores, putting to death anyone who had testified against them during the democracy, commencing with the most vulnerable citizens. Next, they asked Sparta to provide a garrison of soldiers, who acted as their bodyguards and emboldened Critias and the other Oligarchs to start arresting more prominent citizens, including not only their personal enemies but those whose wealth or reputation they saw as a threat to their regime.
“We have no choice”, he said, “but to rid ourselves of those most likely to oppose our rule.”
When Theramenes saw his colleagues exploiting their power to seek revenge, he tried to counsel moderation. “What sense is there,” he asked Critias, “in putting to death those men who supported the democracy but never harmed the aristocrats?” “Both you and I,” he said, “did things in the past to curry favor with the people.” That was how politics worked, after all, under the democracy— everyone, at times, had acted like a demagogue. Critias sighed. “You are being naive, my friend, if you think that just because there are thirty of us, we don’t have to watch our backs as carefully as a tyrant does, who rules alone. We have no choice but to rid ourselves of those most likely to oppose our rule.”
To prevent any attempts at resistance, Critias decreed the exiled Democrat leaders to be outlaws— any man could take their lives with impunity. Alcibiades, though once his friend, had been the first to be killed. Next on the list was Thrasybulus, the Democrat general, now exiled to Thebes, who had fought alongside Alcibiades and Theramenes. When news reached Thrasybulus of his friend Alcibiades’s assassination and the worsening situation at Athens, he acted decisively. Braving the winter cold, he led a squadron of seventy handpicked men up the slopes of Mount Parnes, where they were able to take the Athenian fortress of Phyle by surprise. The rebels now controlled one of the most secure strongholds in the region, atop a steep rock overlooking the road between Thebes and Athens.
The Thirty responded by tightening their grip. More than fifteen hundred people, in all, would be summoned to a public building in the Agora called the Stoa Poikile and put to death for alleged crimes against the regime. Theramenes urged restraint. “The oligarchy will not survive,” he warned, “if we continue like this. We must share power with more citizens, otherwise the people will mistake us for tyrants.”
“Our actions appear ridiculous to me because we are doing two inconsistent things,” he said, “by organizing a government based on force, and the rule of the strong, while keeping it so small as to be weaker than its subjects.” This made Critias’s lip curl; it brought back the pain of having similar contradictions pointed out by Socrates. Afraid that Theramenes might create an opposition faction, he ordered the three thousand hoplites most loyal to the oligarchy to parade under arms in the Agora, as a show of strength. All other residents of Athens were disarmed and their weapons locked in the Parthenon temple on the Acropolis. Now the Thirty were free to do as they pleased. Critias passed a law allowing anyone not on his list of loyalists to be summarily executed. The Oligarchs exploited this not only to silence opposition but also to enrich themselves by seizing the property of victims.
The Thirty now marched against Thrasybulus, with their private army of three thousand hoplites. Unable to take the fortress of Phyle by storm, they prepared for a siege. The gods smiled on the rebels, however, when an unexpectedly heavy snowfall forced the Thirty to return to Athens. This gave Thrasybulus the time he needed to plan a full armed rebellion.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
My latest book, How to Think Like Socrates, has now been rated by over a hundred listeners on Audible, where it has 4.8 stars, and has been getting great reviews. You can listen to a sample from one of the chapters there.
I wrote this book primarily to be listened to, in audiobook format. I narrated it myself at d’Aragon Studio in Montreal, where a team of four of us worked on the production. My friend, the classicist Lalya Lloyd coached me in the pronunciation of over 250 ancient Greek words and phrases!
We wanted to make this book a bit more dramatic than How to Think Like Socrates. It retells the story of Socrates, who fought in three major battles of the Peloponnesian War, survived the Plague of Athens, and lived through the political drama as the fledgling Athenian democracy collapsed into civil war and eventually the dictatorship of the Thirty Tyrants. Selections from the Socratic dialogues of Plato and Xenophon are woven into the story, revealing the Socratic Method, and the philosophy of Socrates, in the form of dialogues, which I integrate with principles from modern psychology and cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT).
You can also download this free PDF guide to the book, using the link below.
“One of the best books ever written on the power and practicality of philosophy for a good and successful life! Wisdom isn’t a rulebook but a mindset. It develops from a life of honest and courageous inquiry. Donald J. Robertson masterfully and vividly takes us back to the Athens of Socrates and recreates the setting as well as the powerful ideas that one place, time, and person launched into the world forever. It’s an introduction to philosophy as a way of life that’s as gripping as any novel, and is as novel as a philosophy book can be. Highly recommended!” —Tom Morris, author of If Aristotle Ran General Motors, The Oasis Within, and Plato’s Lemonade Stand, coauthor of Stoicism for Dummies
“Robertson creates a wonderful semi-fictionalized Socrates to introduce modern readers to the birth of philosophy in Athens. We experience first-hand the method Socrates made famous—of subjecting our deepest beliefs to a cross-examination that jolts and stings like an electric ray. In our modern world that swirls with half-truths and disinformation, we need nothing less to awaken us from our illusions.” —Nancy Sherman, author of Stoic Wisdom: Ancient Lessons for Modern Resilience
“An intriguing and original book, engagingly written and highly accessible. It is innovative both in linking the Socratic dialogues, especially those of Plato, with their historical context and in highlighting the significance of Socratic philosophical enquiry for modern readers. The connection made between Socratic method and CBT psychotherapeutic guidance is particularly suggestive.” —Chris Gill, Professor Emeritus of Ancient Thought, Exeter University, and author of Learning to Live Naturally: Stoic Ethics and its Modern Significance
“A fresh and original introduction to the figure of Socrates, blending philosophy, history, and psychotherapy. Robertson invites readers to take up the Socratic method of self-examination and to embrace a life guided by rational reflection.” —John Sellars, reader in philosophy at Royal Holloway, University of London and author of The Pocket Stoic
“Don Robertson is your trusty and insightful guide to the life, times, and thought of the most important philosopher in the western tradition.” —Massimo Pigliucci, author of How to Be a Stoic
“Robertson draws incisive links between modern psychotherapy and ancient philosophy, bringing Socratic dialogues to life through colorful narration and detail. It’s a creative look at the enduring relevance of an ancient thinker.” —Publishers Weekly

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
I was going through some old documents recently and uncovered a couple of interesting letters from my teens. I thought I’d write down my memories, before I forget, and so one day my kids will be able to read about my life — if they’re interested! Anyway, this is (part of) my story.
When I reached the age of twelve, my parents had to choose between two high schools. Most of my friends went to Belmont Academy but I was sent to Kyle Academy. That’s where most of the middle class kids went, and so my mother and father believed it would be a better school. (The average grades were actually better at Belmont.) I lived in a council estate, on the edge of the catchment area. On the first day I arrived there, I suddenly realized that I was going to be viewed as an outsider because I came from a more working-class part of town. I didn’t have many friends at Kyle. I behaved badly and got into a lot of trouble, mainly because I wasn’t happy, and felt like most of the other kids looked down on me. My father passed away when I was about thirteen and from that point onward, I got into a lot more scraps and arguments with other kids. I was pushed around when I was among the youngest, but as I became older I started to fight back more. That got me into trouble with the teachers.
After my sixteenth birthday, which fell in late December, I returned to school and was marched to the front desk by the deputy headmaster, who told me that unless I left school immediately, now that I was old enough, I’d be expelled. Apparently, they waited for my birthday because if I’d been under sixteen there would have been a lot more paperwork to complete, as they would have been forced to transfer me to another school. So I was basically kicked out of school, with no qualifications. (Actually, I had three O Levels, but they weren’t of much use in finding a job.)
The local employment office told me that they couldn’t put me forward for any jobs because they had a file that said I wasn’t suited to work with members of the public. That seemed completely out of proportion to the trouble that I’d been in — and took me completely by surprise. I still remember how stunned I felt when they told me they couldn’t even send me for job interviews. The person who told me shrugged apologetically, as they read aloud what it said on their computer. Between my lack of qualifications and the black mark on my record, there didn’t seem to be much they could do for me. Eventually they decided that the only option was to place me on a training program, meant for young offenders and kids with learning difficulties.
After completing this program, about three months later, still only sixteen, I was told that I had to attend a meeting before a panel of social workers and some staff from the college. I also remember being taken by surprise by this. My mother didn’t attend because she hadn’t been notified. The document below, dated 20th April 1989, summarizes the outcome. I felt pretty humiliated, as I sat in silence and listened to some adults that I’d never met before tell me why I was considered a complete waste of space. They read out the following report to me:
“Unreliable. Gives very little of himself. Rarely applies himself to any task. Showed aptitude in computing on the one occasion he attended.”
“Lack of interpersonal skills colours his general performance. Very withdrawn/introverted. Converses in monosyllables. Has potential but this is totally submerged by his personality and poor attitude.”
“General performance within this area [work experience] lacks motivation despite indicating an interest in computing. He lacks initiative and will stand aside, withdrawn, rather than take a participating role.”
“Needs continuous guidance and support in the area of personal relationships and interpersonal skills.”
In retrospect, I do find this an odd way to treat a child. It wasn’t much of a pep talk! It felt, to be honest, more like ritual humiliation. I hung my head, ashamed and perplexed, stared at my shoes, and mumbled that I didn’t have anything much to add except that what I would rather have been learning how to program computers.
I decided that my only option was to stay on at college. They didn’t want me there but nobody would provide me with a reference to get a job. So it was agreed that I would study programming — the only thing for which they felt I showed any aptitude. I spent about three years at college and eventually completed a Higher National Diploma (HND) in computing.
However, I’d always enjoyed philosophy and writing stories. So I enrolled on an additional class in English literature. I quit after getting my first feedback because the lecturer sat me down and told me, quite bluntly, that my essay was pretentious garbage and that I should forget about becoming a writer. He probably had a point but, looking back, I also think I had some trace of potential, which he could have encouraged. I think that because of this experience I tended to favour relatively plain language in my subsequent writing.
I then met with the college careers counsellor — I still remember her name to this day, although we only spoke once or twice. I told her that my passion was philosophy and that more than anything I wanted to become a psychotherapist — I was reading lots of books on these subjects. She told me to forget about it because the training was too expensive — only rich people can afford to do that, she said. She told me I reminded her of a man she knew, rolled her eyes, and informed me that in her opinion I wasn’t at all suited to being a counsellor or therapist. (I was more interested, at the time, in helping people solve problems than just talking to them about their feelings.) I should get a trade quickly, she said, while I was still young enough to be accepted, by joining an apprenticeship to become a bricklayer or a mechanic. That did not appeal to me.
By this time, I actually believed that I was, well, stupid. Because I’d been told repeatedly by teachers and lecturers that I was. Something bothered me, though. As a young child, I’d taken an IQ test and my parents refused to tell me the result. I overheard my mother tell my father it would give me a big head. I also had a knack for computer programming, and I seemed to be able solve logical problems very quickly. My classmates were always asking me to help them out when they were stuck. One of my friends told me he’d seen an advert in a newspaper for tests administered by MENSA, the high IQ society. We both completed the home test by mail and were surprised at our results. So we agreed to go to the centre in Glasgow together to do the formal supervised test. I scored 156 on the Cattell scale, which placed me in the top percentile, and qualified me for MENSA membership. The results are dated 23rd March 1992, when I was nineteen years old.
I don’t think that I would have found the confidence to go to university and study philosophy if I hadn’t received this little bit of validation. All my life, I’d been told that I was stupid and a “write off” academically. At high school, I was placed in “remedial education” because I was so far behind other students. About four or five of us would sit in a small room, and draw with crayons. The teachers had kept telling me that I was lazy and stupid, and for a long time I believed them, but it turned out that they were wrong. (I think I became withdrawn after the death of my father, and, in part, they misinterpreted this as laziness.)
Luckily for me, two positive things emerged from my time at Ayr College. I made some good friends. I also met a media studies and communications skills lecturer called Mary Smith, who was, at that point, the only person who appeared to see any potential in me. She just encouraged me to read whatever I was interested in, and advised me to go to university and study philosophy. I remarked “But doing philosophy won’t really lead to a career…” Mary looked me dead in the eye and said “Exactly!” I wasn’t sure what she meant but the way she said it had such a big impact that I made up my mind there and then to do a philosophy degree.
At Aberdeen University, I flourished. I was genuinely shocked when I started to receive top marks for my essays. I took courses specifically on Plato and Aristotle, which helped prepare me to study the Stoics later. I graduated joint top of my year with a 1st Class MA Hons in Philosophy and was awarded the John Laird Memorial prize in Moral Philosophy. I planned to go on and do my PhD in philosophy but, to my surprise, my applications were declined. Looking back, I think I could have used some guidance on wording my proposal. So instead, because there was an opportunity there to get some of my fees paid, I went to the Centre for Psychotherapeutic Studies at the University of Sheffield, where I obtained my MA in Psychoanalytic Studies, with distinction. It was really an interdisciplinary program in philosophy and psychotherapy. My masters dissertation was on the existential psychoanalysis of Jean-Paul Sartre.
At this time, around 1999, I started to become disillusioned with psychoanalysis and existentialism. I looked for a totally different approach to combining philosophy and psychotherapy and began to study the relationship between Stoicism and cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT). Blending philosophy and psychology was unusual but followed naturally from my experience of interdisciplinary research at the Centre for Psychotherapeutic Studies. It became my “passion” for the rest of my life. It was only after graduating from Aberdeen that I realized ancient philosophy was often a much better fit for psychotherapy than modern philosophy — ancient philosophers, especially the Stoics, often saw what they as therapeutic and adopted a more down-to-earth approach than, say, the existentialists or post-modernists.
I had already trained as a counsellor, and started training as a psychotherapist. I would eventually become a UK Council for Psychotherapy (UKCP) accredited psychotherapist, and obtain accreditation from the European Association for Psychotherapy (EAP), which meant I was qualified to practice throughout most of Europe. I obtained many different qualifications in different forms of psychotherapy, and worked in different environments — including in several South London schools, with the probation service and young offenders, and with a drugs project. I became quite good friends with a well-known American hypnotist, called Gil Boyne, who lived in Islington at the time. Eventually, at Gil’s urging, I opened a private practice in Harley Street, where I would continue to work for many years. I later obtained a diploma in CBT and REBT, and also went on to obtain an Advanced Postgraduate Diploma in CBT from Kings College, University of London.
I was convinced that with two first class MAs in philosophy, I would, at some point, be guaranteed to get onto a PhD program to write my dissertation on Stoicism and cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT). I had been reading the works of the French scholar Pierre Hadot, an expert on “spiritual exercises” in ancient philosophy, and “philosophy as a way of life”. I made copious notes for the doctoral thesis that I was planning to write. Even with a first-class masters, though, I still found myself unable to get on a PhD program. This time it was because none of the philosophy departments I approached had anyone who felt they could supervise a dissertation on Stoicism. And even if they did, they told me they had no interest in CBT and wouldn’t be able to arrange supervision of an interdisciplinary thesis of this kind. I tried for a couple of years but eventually gave up. My last attempt was an interview for a well-known interdisciplinary PhD program in philosophy and psychotherapy — the interviewer told me they had zero interest in my proposal, as they were more focused on subjects like postmodernism and psychoanalysis. They weren’t willing to consider supervising a thesis on Stoicism and CBT.
Around that time, the UKCP announced that they were inviting book proposals from their members. I sent them a proposal for a book called How to Think Like a Roman Emperor — a self-help book that was based on the notes I’d compiled for my PhD thesis. They declined. However, an acquiring editor working with them reached out to me and suggested that despite being rejected by the UKCP panel, I should submit my proposal directly to the publisher Karnac, who specializes in books on psychotherapy. I did so, and it was declined again.
Having encountered quite a lot of obstacles in life, by this time I wasn’t someone who would give up easily. So I contacted Karnac and asked them what sorts of books they actually wanted people to write. They told me they were really looking for a book on philosophy and CBT. That surprised me because it sounded similar to the rejected proposal. So I changed the title to The Philosophy of CBT — as close as possible to what they said they wanted! — made a few minor tweaks and sent it back to them. They sent me my first book contract in response. That book was published in 2010, is now in its second revised edition, has been translated into several languages — and it has subsequently been cited by over four hundred other books and articles.
Since then, for about the last fifteen years now, I’ve been writing books on philosophy and psychotherapy — mainly about Stoicism and CBT. Years after publishing my first book, I proposed the rejected title How to Think Like a Roman Emperor to another publisher, St. Martin’s. They accepted. That book that has been translated into about 20 languages and became a breakout evergreen title, which has now sold over 300,000 units. In total, I’ve now written about nine books. I’ve had an interesting career, as a writer, psychotherapist, and now life coach. Looking back, I don’t regret any of the setbacks or obstacles that I encountered along the way because, ironically, I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.
(Another reason for writing this down, incidentally, is that I’ve read 2-3 AI generated things recently about my life — one that someone sent to me — that contained a few inaccuracies. So I wanted to put down some facts online that may, over time, help to keep the record straight.)

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
This section of the Handbook contains a list of miscellaneous sayings of Epictetus, which I’ll comment upon in turn.
Lay down for yourself, at the outset, a certain stamp and type of character, which you are to maintain whether you are by yourself or are meeting with people. And be silent for the most part, or else make only the most necessary remarks, and express these in few words. But rarely, and when occasion requires you to talk, talk, indeed, but about no ordinary topics. Do not talk about gladiators, or horse-races, or athletes, or things to eat or drink—topics that arise on all occasions; but above all, do not talk about people, either blaming, or praising, or comparing them. If, then, you can, by your own conversation bring over that of your companions to what is seemly. But if you happen to be left alone in the presence of strangers, keep silence.
We should make it our goal in life to have a virtuous character, which is maintained consistently. We should be wary of being diverted from our path by idle chit-chat (which today we’d surely compare to social media). In particular, Epictetus says that his students should generally avoid superficially praising, criticizing or comparing other people. (Although, he obviously thinks that more considered praise of virtue and criticism of vice do have their place, as he does this all the time.)
The goal of Stoicism was “living in agreement with nature”, which means, in part, keeping our thoughts and words consistent with objective reality. Most ordinary conversation involves expressing value judgements about events and other people, though. For the Stoics, the influence of other people in this regard was one of the main explanations for the corruption of our character. They encourage us to inhabit a world of values contrary to nature.

This post was originally published on my Substack newsletter.
This is an excerpt from How to Think Like Socrates. You can listen to the audiobook on Audible. The Melian Dialogue provides a notorious example of political brutality, which stands in stark contrast to Socratic ethics. While other intellectuals, such as the Sophists, were encouraging this sort of amoral thinking, Socrates was warning his students th…