Cognitive Dissonance: When the Truth Is Too Painful, We Lie to Ourselves

Sophie stood frozen in the entryway, her hands still clenched around her bag. She had just come back from a birthday dinner with her partner and some mutual friends. During the meal, he had made a few barbed remarks, wrapped in humor, that everyone had greeted with laughter. She had smiled too—a tight smile that pulled at her cheeks. Now that the door was closed, her heart was racing, her shoulders rigid—yet she told herself, “I must be overreacting…” Every part of her said no, and still she stayed.

Marc came home from work with his jaw locked and a dull band of tension circling his skull. That morning, his supervisor had praised him in front of the team, then sharply reprimanded him in private that afternoon. Since then, every word had been looping in his mind: “I should be tougher… I don’t know how to handle criticism.” Anger was rising, sleep was slipping away, and doubt was settling in.

Isabelle had coffee with an old friend. She listened for two full hours, nodding and offering small “ah yes” now and then. When she finally tried to confide in return, the topic shifted away. On the way home, her mind felt foggy, her shoulders heavy, her eyes dim. “I’m probably just tired,” she thought. But in the hollow of her chest, a familiar emptiness had returned.

All three stories share the same invisible thread: a gap between what we deeply feel and what we force ourselves to accept. When the truth feels too painful or threatening, the mind instinctively tries to protect itself. It begins to tell a more bearable version of reality — often without us even noticing.

That gap has a name: cognitive dissonance.

When the Body Cries Out and the Mind Justifies

Leon Festinger first described cognitive dissonance as the tension that arises when our thoughts, values, and actions contradict each other. To reduce this inner tension, the brain works to reorganize reality. It tries to make the contradiction tolerable, even if that means silencing the body’s alarm signals. This isn’t a conscious lie, but a subtle protective mechanism — a way to avoid facing something too painful all at once.

But the body keeps speaking.

The heart races, the muscles tighten, the breath grows shallow. The body sounds the alarm before the mind can grasp what’s wrong.

The Invisible Alarm System

Our bodies constantly detect subtle signals from the environment. Researchers call this bottom-up processing: sensory and physiological information (heartbeat, breath, muscle tension) rises from the body to the brain—sometimes before we can put words to what’s happening.

In other words, if your throat tightens, your breath stops, or your heart pounds, it’s not “in your head.”It’s a physical response to a situation your system perceives as unsafe.

Neuroscience supports this alarm function: studies show that the amygdala—a small structure deep in the brain—reacts within milliseconds to threatening signals, before we are even conscious of them (Matteo Diano et al., 2017).

The body becomes an invisible alarm system. It senses what the mind has not yet explained.

When the Fog Rolls In

Over time, this inner split breeds confusion. Daily life takes on a strange haze. We move through it, swinging between tension and exhaustion, anger and numbness.

Common signs include:

• constant tension, clenched jaws, stiff neck

• racing heart, short breath, disrupted sleep

• vague anxiety, feeling like you’re walking on eggshells

• shame, self-blame, looping thoughts

These are not personal flaws. They are the imprint of an incoherence too heavy to carry.

According to Statistics Canada, about 43% of women and 35% of men who have been in relationships have experienced psychological violence—a context where cognitive dissonance is common. It’s not “in your head.” It’s real. It’s widespread. And it’s documented.

Why We Stay

Staying in a situation that hurts doesn’t mean we’re weak. It often means the truth feels too painful or destabilizing to face head-on and your survival system is trying to reduce the discomfort. . To cope, the mind creates protective stories — narratives that make reality easier to bear.

We start thinking:

• “It’s not that bad—he just had a bad day.”

• “If I leave, I’ll lose everything.”

• “I’m just too sensitive.”

These thoughts soothe us for a moment… but they keep the fog in place. And sometimes, that fog becomes a form of control: as long as we doubt ourselves, we stay.

A First Glimmer of Light

You don’t need to make big decisions to find a bit of clarity again.

You can simply sit for a few minutes. Feel your body supported. Breathe.

Gently bring to mind a confusing situation and, instead of analyzing it, observe what your body says: a tightening, a warmth, an emptiness. Then return to your breath.

Maybe even write one sentence, like a marker: “A part of me sees reality clearly.”

It’s not a truth test. It’s a return to yourself. A first gesture of trust in your own perception.

Returning to Coherence

Cognitive dissonance is not a flaw.

Lying to ourselves is a deeply human strategy. It allows us to keep going when the truth feels unbearable. It’s a signal. A call from the body to realign what you feel, what you think, and what you live.

Naming this fog is already a step back toward yourself. A step toward the part of you that knows, even when everything feels blurry.

A spark of clarity in the middle of the chaos. And sometimes, this simple act—believing what you feel—becomes the first thread of a new weaving.

A thread that is quiet, yet strong.

A thread that gently leads you back to yourself.