Understanding Anxiety: When Logic Isn't Enough

In this article, I explore:

• How anxiety can emerge not from a lack of logic, but from relying on a way of making sense that no longer fits the situation
• Why humans learn and understand the world through opposing experiences, and how these early frameworks can become limiting
• How repeating a once useful internal “scale” can lead to frustration, loss of control, and heightened emotional states
• Why adapting the way we evaluate experience, rather than trying harder to control it, can bring relief and clarity

Many people who experience anxiety describe themselves as logical, thoughtful, and observant. They often say things like, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I still feel anxious,” or “I understand it logically, but my body doesn’t follow.” The assumption underneath these statements is that anxiety appears when logic fails. What if, in many cases, anxiety appears not because logic is absent, but because logic is being applied too rigidly, using a scale of understanding that no longer fits the situation?

In my experience, anxiety often develops when a person keeps using a problem solving framework that once worked well, but is no longer suited to the complexity of what they are facing. The frustration comes not from a lack of intelligence or effort, but from persistence. The brain keeps applying the same evaluation system because it has learned that this system is safe, reliable, and logical. When the environment changes and demands a different way of evaluating experience, the mismatch creates tension.

Humans learn by contrast. We understand experience by organising it along opposing dimensions, such as safe and unsafe, clear and unclear, possible and impossible. What I refer to here as a scale aligns closely with what constructivist theory describes as personal constructs. George Kelly suggested that people make sense of the world by developing bipolar constructs, personal dimensions of meaning that are formed through experience and then used to anticipate events (Kelly). In this sense, a scale is not a flaw or a limitation. It is the mind’s way of creating order.

The difficulty begins when a scale that once worked well is applied to situations that require a different kind of differentiation. Instead of being revised, the construct is reused because it feels logical and familiar. Predictive models of the brain would describe this as a system continuing to rely on an internal model that no longer reduces uncertainty (Friston). From a constructivist perspective, the person is not resisting change, but attempting to preserve coherence. When the environment repeatedly fails to confirm the prediction generated by that scale, anxiety begins to appear.

This is something I observe very clearly in people learning to drive, particularly those who later experience driving anxiety. Many learners initially understand traffic using a simple and logical scale. Clear means safe. Not clear means danger. This makes sense in the early stages of learning. If there are no cars, you go. If there are cars, you wait. The brain associates safety with absence and threat with presence.

As driving situations become more complex, this scale is no longer sufficient. Traffic is rarely fully clear or fully blocked. There is flow, movement, timing, intention, and relative speed. Safe driving in these conditions requires a different evaluation system. It requires the ability to assess partial gaps, predict movement, and tolerate uncertainty.

If a person continues to rely on the original clear versus not clear scale, the environment repeatedly delivers negative feedback. The situation does not resolve as expected. The brain detects a problem. Tension increases. The person tries harder to find certainty. They wait longer. They scan more. They think more. Instead of clarity, they experience heightened arousal. Fear begins to appear.

At this point, anxiety is often misunderstood. It is seen as the cause of the difficulty, rather than as feedback. The body is signalling that the current way of evaluating the situation is not working. The person is not failing. The scale is insufficient.

This is where logic can unintentionally make things worse. When anxiety appears, many people respond by doubling down on reasoning. They look for reassurance. They want certainty. They tell themselves they should only move when it feels completely safe. But complete safety, as defined by the original scale, is no longer available in the environment they are in.

The result is frustration. The person feels stuck. They may describe panic, loss of control, or sudden fear that seems to come out of nowhere. In reality, the system is reacting to repeated mismatch. The brain is doing exactly what it is designed to do when its predictions fail.

The same pattern appears beyond driving. In relationships, people may use a right versus wrong scale in situations that require negotiation and ambiguity. In parenting, control versus chaos may replace responsiveness. In therapy, insight versus symptom reduction may become the only measure of progress. When the scale does not adapt, emotional intensity rises.

When someone says that therapy did not work for them, this is sometimes part of the reason. Much therapeutic work focuses on reflection after the fact. The client describes what happened, using their existing vocabulary and internal scales. The work is meaningful, but it does not always address what happens in real time. The inner dialogue that operates during the moment of difficulty often remains unchanged.

The brain does not change simply because something has been understood conceptually. Change requires repeated experience. New information needs to be passed to the brain again and again, allowing new meanings to form. Over time, the system learns to react differently, not because the old pattern has disappeared, but because a new one has become more useful.

Adapting the scale is not about forcing calm or eliminating anxiety. It is about expanding the way experience is evaluated. In driving, this might mean shifting from presence and absence to movement and predictability. From certainty to timing. From static judgement to dynamic response.

When the evaluation system adapts, the nervous system settles naturally. Anxiety reduces not because it has been fought, but because it is no longer needed as a signal.

If there is one idea to take from this, it is this. When anxiety appears, it may be worth asking not what is wrong with me, but what scale am I using to understand this situation. What once made sense may no longer fit. And noticing that difference can be the beginning of a very different experience.

Observing the sequence in real time

What I am increasingly paying attention to in my work is the sequence itself. First the person creates an understanding. Then they apply a form of logic that feels reasonable at the time. That logic produces a result. When the result no longer fits the environment, anxiety, frustration, and often desperation begin to build. What is striking is not the anxiety itself, but how consistently it appears at the point where the person keeps using the same evaluative scale despite repeated negative feedback from the environment.

I often see this clearly when someone is learning to drive. Early on, many learners make sense of traffic using a simple and logical scale. Clear means safe. Not clear means danger. The presence or absence of other vehicles becomes the main reference point. At first, this works. Quiet roads reinforce the logic and the body relaxes.

The difficulty appears when traffic becomes fluid rather than binary. Cars are present but moving. Gaps open and close. Nothing is fully clear or fully blocked. If the learner continues to rely on the original scale, waiting for conditions to feel completely clear, tension builds quickly. The environment gives constant feedback that does not fit the original understanding. Anxiety rises, not because the person lacks skill, but because the scale they are using no longer matches the situation.

When the individual is supported in noticing the scale they are using, not judging it but observing it, something often shifts. They are no longer trying to force a solution inside a framework that cannot support it. Instead, they begin to develop their own functional scale, one that fits the actual demands of the situation. When that happens, the change is not only behavioural. There is a sense of cognitive resonance. Things begin to make sense again. The body settles because the prediction and the experience are no longer in conflict.

Where these observations connect with existing theory

This way of thinking is not new, even if it is rarely discussed in this form. Developmental psychology has long suggested that humans learn by experiencing opposites and forming meaning through contrast (Piaget). Constructivist approaches describe understanding as something actively built, not passively received (Bruner). Predictive models of the brain suggest that distress emerges when prediction errors persist and cannot be resolved within the existing framework (Friston). Phenomenological perspectives remind us that meaning is always created from within the individual’s lived experience, not imposed from the outside (Merleau Ponty).

What I am describing sits at the intersection of these ideas, but is observed in real time. In the car. In the moment. In the language people use silently with themselves. When a person finds a scale that works for them, one that fits their experience rather than simply sounding logical, the shift can be profound. Not because anxiety has been removed, but because the system is no longer fighting itself.

A different question about anxiety

Perhaps the most important question is not why someone feels anxious, but whether the logic they are using still fits the world they are trying to move through.

What this leaves me wondering, and often inviting clients to wonder about as well, is not whether their anxiety makes sense, but whether the scale they are using still fits the situation they are in. Logic can feel safe, especially when it once worked. But when the environment changes and the logic stays the same, the body often carries the cost. Sometimes relief does not come from trying harder or understanding more, but from noticing how we are making sense of things in the first place. When a person discovers a scale that resonates with their lived experience, not one imposed from outside but one that feels their own, the shift can be subtle and profound. The situation may look the same, but the relationship to it is no longer driven by tension. And often, that is where anxiety begins to loosen its grip.

References

Bruner, J. (1990). Acts of meaning. Harvard University Press

Friston, K. (2010). The free-energy principle: A unified brain theory? Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 11(2), 127–138

Jean Piaget. (1955). The Construction of Reality in the Child. Routledge

Kelly, G. A. (1955). The Psychology of Personal Constructs. New York: Norton

Merleau-Ponty, M. (1945). Phénoménologie de la perception. Paris: Gallimard