What if We Replaced "But" With "And"?
- lisa57142
- Aug 14
- 5 min read
There's a little word I've become increasingly aware of in my own conversations.
But.
It's such an ordinary word.
We barely notice ourselves using it.
Yet sometimes, without realising it, but can quietly change the relationship we have with our own experiences.
I'm anxious, but I need to do it.
I'm grieving, but I should be getting on with things.
I want to make a change, but I'm too scared.
I know what matters to me, but I can't seem to make myself do it.
And sometimes I hear a version of this in counselling:
"I know what I want to do... but I just can't because I feel..."
The feeling becomes the reason the action can't happen.
And that's understandable.
When something feels difficult, our minds are very good at finding reasons why we shouldn't move towards it.
Especially when we've spent a long time trying to avoid difficult thoughts and feelings.
I made a short video about this because sometimes hearing an idea explained is quite different from reading about it...
So what happens if we change that little word but?
"I'm anxious, and..."
Imagine saying:
I'm anxious, and I can still take a small step.
I'm grieving, and I can still connect with the people I love.
I'm uncertain, and I can still make a choice.
I'm scared, and this matters enough to me that I'm willing to try.
Suddenly, the two experiences are allowed to exist alongside one another.
The anxiety doesn't have to disappear before the action can happen.
The grief doesn't have to be resolved before we reconnect with life.
The fear doesn't have to give us permission.
Both things can be true.
And this is where I think the little word and becomes interesting.
Not because but is a bad word.
It isn't.
There are plenty of times when but is exactly the right word.
I'm not suggesting we all need to go around replacing every but with and. 😄
It's simply an opportunity to notice what happens when we use language that allows two apparently conflicting experiences to sit alongside one another.
Because sometimes we don't need to choose between:
"This is difficult."
and
"I can still move forwards."
We can have both.
The problem with waiting until we feel ready
One of the things I love about Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) is that it doesn't make feeling better a prerequisite for living.
That can be quite a different way of thinking about our emotional lives.
We often assume that we need to get rid of the anxiety first.
Deal with the shame.
Stop overthinking.
Process the grief.
Build our confidence.
Feel motivated.
Then we'll be able to start doing the things that matter.
But what if that order is sometimes the thing that keeps us stuck?
What if we're waiting for an internal experience to change before we're willing to take an external step?
Of course, sometimes there are things we genuinely need to work through.
Sometimes we need rest.
Sometimes we need support.
Sometimes taking action isn't the right thing to do.
This isn't about forcing ourselves through everything regardless of how we feel.
It's about becoming curious about the rules we've developed around our feelings.
"I can't do that while I'm anxious."
"I shouldn't go out while I feel like this."
"I need to feel more confident before I try."
"I need to stop thinking about it before I can move on."
What if we became curious about those rules rather than automatically following them?
What are we doing to avoid what we feel?
This is another question I often find really interesting.
When difficult thoughts and feelings show up, most of us naturally do something to try to make them go away.
We might distract ourselves.
Keep incredibly busy.
Avoid certain situations.
Overthink.
Seek reassurance.
Withdraw.
Try to control everything around us.
Push feelings down.
Or tell ourselves that we'll deal with things later.
And often these strategies make perfect sense.
They may genuinely give us some relief.
The difficulty is that something can work in the short term and still have a cost over time.
Avoiding something might make the anxiety smaller today.
But if avoidance gradually makes our world smaller, there may be a price attached to that relief.
Keeping busy might stop us having to feel something uncomfortable.
But perhaps we're also becoming disconnected from the people or experiences that matter to us.
Trying desperately to control our thoughts might give us the feeling that we're doing something useful.
But perhaps we're spending so much energy fighting our inner world that there's very little left for living.
This isn't about judging ourselves for doing these things.
Quite the opposite.
It's about becoming curious.
What does this strategy give me in the short term?
And what might it be costing me over time?
That curiosity can create a little space.
And sometimes, in that space, we begin to notice that we have more choices than we thought.
Pain and possibility
One of the most powerful things I see in counselling is when someone begins to realise that difficult experiences don't necessarily have to determine the direction of their life.
Not because the pain has disappeared.
But because their relationship with it has changed.
They might still feel anxious.
Still experience sadness.
Still have memories that hurt.
Still have thoughts that tell them they're not good enough.
But perhaps they're no longer organising their entire life around getting rid of those experiences.
Instead, they're beginning to ask:
What matters to me?
What kind of person do I want to be?
What do I want my life to stand for?
What small step could I take towards that?
And sometimes the answer is surprisingly ordinary.
Calling someone.
Going for a walk.
Being present with their children.
Setting a boundary.
Trying something they've been avoiding.
Allowing themselves to experience something enjoyable without feeling guilty.
Having the conversation they've been putting off.
None of these things require us to have a perfectly calm mind first.
We can be carrying difficult things and still choose.
A different way of moving forwards
This is why I don't think counselling is always about getting rid of the things that hurt.
Of course, there are times when people feel better as therapy progresses.
But some of the changes I find most meaningful are quieter than that.
Someone might tell me that they're still anxious, but they're no longer letting anxiety make every decision.
They're still grieving, but they're reconnecting with life.
They're still experiencing self-doubt, but they're taking action anyway.
They're still carrying painful memories, but those memories no longer dictate who they believe they are.
They're beginning to discover that pain and possibility can exist in the same life.
And perhaps that's the real invitation behind replacing but with and.
Not:
"Everthing is fine."
Not:
"I shouldn't feel this way."
Not:
"I just need to think positively."
But:
"This is here... and what matters to me is here too."
"This hurts... and I can still choose."
"I'm afraid... and I can take one small step."
You don't have to wait for difficult thoughts and feelings to disappear before you begin living the life you want.
Sometimes you can carry them with you.
And still move towards what matters. 🌿
You might also like
If this way of thinking about difficult thoughts and feelings resonates with you, you might enjoy What's It Really Like to Have Counselling With Me?, where I talk more about how I work and why I use experiential exercises alongside person-centred counselling and ACT-informed principles.
If you're considering counselling...
You don't need to know exactly what you need from counselling before you get in touch.
If you're curious about how I work and whether it might be a good fit for you, I offer a free Introduction Call - a relaxed opportunity to ask questions, tell me a little about what's bringing you to counselling and get a sense of what working together might feel like.
There's no pressure and no expectation to book sessions afterwards.
I offer face-to-face counselling in central Grimsby and online counselling across the UK, with evening and weekend appointments available.
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