Webb Therapy Uncategorized There’s nothing ‘fake’ about ‘faking it until you make it’

There’s nothing ‘fake’ about ‘faking it until you make it’

When to Fake It Till You Make It (and When You Shouldn’t)

Faking it for the right reasons can change you for the better. Here’s why.

Posted Jun 27, 2016By Amy Morin

One day, a client came to see me because she felt socially awkward. She knew that her inability to make small talk was holding her back both personally and professionally. As a shy person, she hated going to networking events. But making connections was vital to her career.I asked, “What do you usually do when you go to a networking event?” She said, “I stand awkwardly off to the side and wait to see if anyone will come talk to me.” I asked her, “What would you do differently if you felt confident?” and she said, “I’d initiate conversation and introduce myself to people.”

Right then and there, she discovered the solution to her problem: If she wanted to feel more confident, she had to act more confident. That wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear. She’d hoped for a solution that would immediately make her feel more confident. But the key to becoming more comfortable in social situations is practice.Her instinct was to wait until she felt more confident, but that confidence wasn’t going to magically appear out of thin air—especially if she was standing around by herself. However, if she started talking to people like a confident person, she’d have an opportunity to experience successful social interactions, and each of these would boost her confidence.

Acting “As If”

Acting “as if” is a common prescription in psychotherapy. It’s based on the idea that if you behave like the person you want to become, you’ll become like this in reality:

1. If you want to feel happier, do what happy people do—smile.

2. If you want to get more work done, act as if you are a productive person.

3. If you want to have more friends, behave like a friendly person.

4. If you want to improve your relationship, practice being a good partner.Too often we hesitate to spring into action. Instead, we wait until everything feels just right or until we think we’re ready. But research shows that changing your behavior first can change the way you think and feel.

The Biggest Mistake Most People Make

Faking it until you make it only works when you correctly identify something within yourself that’s holding you back. Behaving like the person you want to become is about changing the way you feel and the way you think.If your motives are to prove your worth to other people, however, your efforts won’t be successful, and research shows that this approach actually backfires. A study published in the Journal of Consumer Research found that people who tried to prove their worth to others were more likely to dwell on their shortcomings. Ambitious professionals who wore luxury clothing in an effort to appear successful, and MBA students who wore Rolex watches to increase their self-worth just ended up feeling like bigger failures. Even worse, their attempts to project an image of success impaired their self-control. They struggled to resist temptation when they tried to prove that they were successful. Putting so much effort into faking it used up their mental resources and interfered with their ability to make good choices.

How to “Fake It” the Right Way

Acting “as if” doesn’t mean being phony or inauthentic. It’s about changing your behavior first and trusting the feelings will follow. As long as your motivation is in the right place, faking it until you make it can effectively make your goals become reality. Just make sure you’re interested in changing yourself on the inside, not simply trying to change other people’s perceptions of you.

Related Post

The Weight of Belonging: Why Socialisation Can Make Morality Feel Like a BurdenThe Weight of Belonging: Why Socialisation Can Make Morality Feel Like a Burden

At first glance, the claim that highly socialised people find morality especially burdensome seems backwards. Socialisation is, by definition, the process through which people absorb the norms of their community until those norms feel natural rather than imposed. We would expect the well-socialised person to coincide with morality rather than strain against it. Yet a substantial line of thought in psychoanalysis, philosophy, and sociology argues the opposite: that the deeper a person’s internalisation of moral norms, the heavier the psychological cost of living up to them. Understanding why requires distinguishing several distinct mechanisms that produce this effect.

Freud: Civilization as Repression Turned Inward

The most direct source for this idea is Sigmund Freud’s Civilisation and Its Discontents (1930). Freud’s central claim is that civilised life requires the systematic renunciation of instinctual gratification, particularly aggressive and sexual impulses. Civilisation inhibits humanity’s instinctual drives, which can result in guilt and a lack of fulfillment. This is not a side effect of morality but its very mechanism: in order to live in a civilised society, humans must take their aggression and turn it on themselves in the form of a conscience, or super-ego, which takes the place of the pareent as the child matures.

This matters for the socialisation question because the superego is not a fixed quantity, rather, it is built up through the internalisation of external authority, and its severity scales with how thoroughly that internalisation has occurred. As civilisation evolves, the superego becomes stricter, intensifying feelings of guilt when individuals fail to conform. Freud makes the resulting trade explicit: a threatened external unhappiness, like the loss of love or punishment by an external authority, is exchanged for a permanent internal unhappiness, the tension of the sense of guilt. He defines this tension precisely: the tension between the harsh superego and the ego subjected to it is what we call the sense of guilt, and it expresses itself as a need for punishment.

Therefore, a highly socialised person has not simply learned the rules; they have built an internal enforcer that punishes them for infractions the outside world may never even notice, including merely wanting to transgress (break a moral ‘code’). The burden of morality, then, is not chiefly the effort of compliance but the permanent, low-grade cost of self-surveillance.

Nietzsche: Bad Conscience as Domesticated Cruelty

Friedrich Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals (1887) offers a related but distinct account, one that Freud himself drew on. For Nietzsche, “bad conscience” arises when a person’s instincts for freedom and aggression – no longer permitted external expression once society confines and pacifies them – are forced inward and turned against the self. The more successfully a person has been tamed by the “morality of custom,” the more violently their own instincts are redirected against their own psyche, producing guilt, self-torment, and a kind of internalised cruelty that Nietzsche regards as pathological rather than noble.

Where Freud treats this process somewhat neutrally, as the necessary price of civilisation, Nietzsche treats it as a form of sickness, that is, the herd’s revenge on the strong instincts it can no longer tolerate expressed outwardly. On both readings, however, the conclusion converges: socialisation does not simply align a person’s desires with moral norms; it manufactures an internal punitive apparatus, and the more complete the socialisation, the harsher that apparatus becomes.

Wolf: The Demandingness Objection – Burden Through Breadth

A different, less psychological route to the same conclusion comes from moral philosophy’s “demandingness objection,” most influentially developed against utilitarianism and explored by Susan Wolf in her essay “Moral Saints” (1982). Wolf’s target is the figure of the person whose every action is as morally good as possible – a person whose every action is as morally good as possible and who is as morally worthy as can be.

Her striking conclusion is that such a person would not be admirable but unattractive: the moral saint lacks the ability to enjoy the enjoyable in life, because full moral perfection edges out the non-moral commitments, tastes, and idiosyncrasies that make a life recognisably human. Commentators summarising Wolf’s argument note that a moral saint’s hobbies and passions survive only until they conflict with morality’s demands, at which point they must be sacrificed (Brainscape summary of Wolf, 1982).

A highly socialised person has internalised not just a few core prohibitions but an extensive web of obligations; to family, profession, community, and strangers alike. The more completely someone absorbs “you should help,” “you should be fair,” “you should not free-ride,” the more situations present themselves as morally loaded. The burden here is not guilt over transgression in Freud’s sense, but sheer coverage: an ever-expanding set of perceived obligations that leaves little room for permissible self-interest.

This is precisely the structure of the demandingness objection as it is standardly raised against consequentialism: if morality requires maximizing good outcomes, then almost every choice — how you spend money, time, or attention — becomes a moral test, and the well-socialized agent who takes this seriously is perpetually under evaluation.

Not every tradition agrees.

Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics offers the sharpest counter example: virtue is a disposition built through habituation, and the fully virtuous person acts well with pleasure, because their desires have themselves been trained to want the good. On this view, feeling like it’s a struggle means your character isn’t fully formed yet. Aristotle called this being ‘continent’ — doing the right thing, but only by fighting off the urge to do otherwise. That’s not the mark of a well-socialized person; it’s a sign the job isn’t finished. A well-socialized person should experience morality as second nature, not imposition. The “burden” thesis, then, may reflect a specifically modern, post-Freudian picture of conscience as an internal disciplinary agency, one foreign to Aristotle’s picture of virtue as integrated character.

Durkheim: Integration and Social Cost

Émile Durkheim’s sociology offers a structural variant. In Suicide (1897), he treats strong social integration as generally protective, but identifies conditions – cases where someone is so fused with their group’s identity that their own individual life stops feeling like it matters to them – under which near-total subordination to group norms turns self-destructive. For example, a soldier who throws himself on a grenade to save his unit, or a cult member who follows an order to end their life because the group’s cause has completely replaced their sense of self.

His concept of the “collective conscience” implies that deeper integration makes moral rules feel less like personal preferences and more like external social facts pressing in; obligatory precisely because they are so thoroughly shared and enforced.

Synthesis

Three distinct mechanisms emerge by which socialisation could make morality burdensome rather than easy:

1. Depth (Freud, Nietzsche): socialization builds an internal punitive structure (the superego, “bad conscience”) whose severity tracks how fully authority has been internalised, producing guilt even absent external sanction.

2. Breadth (Wolf, the demandingness objection): the more thoroughly someone absorbs moral norms, the more everyday moments start to feel like moral tests. Choices that used to feel free and casual (how to spend an evening, what to say in a small conversation) start to feel like they carry a ‘right’ answer you’re obligated to find.

3. Structural pressure (Durkheim): deep group integration makes collective norms felt as external, obligatory, and sometimes crushing.

Aristotle’s habituated virtue is the counterweight: none of this is a necessary feature of socialisation as such, only of particular pictures of how conscience forms. Whether morality feels like burden or ease may depend less on how much someone is socialised than on what kind of relationship to norms that socialisation produces – punitive self-surveillance, expansive obligation, or integrated character.

Sources: Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (1930); Nietzsche, On the Genealogy of Morals (1887); Wolf, “Moral Saints,” Journal of Philosophy 79.8 (1982); Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics; Durkheim, Suicide (1897).

Thinking About Change? How Motivational Interviewing Can HelpThinking About Change? How Motivational Interviewing Can Help

If you’ve ever found yourself thinking “Part of me wants to change… but part of me’s not sure”, you’re not alone. That back-and-forth, weighing things up—“Should I? Shouldn’t I?”—is a normal part of how people process big (and small) decisions. In counselling, this is called ambivalence, and rather than seeing it as a barrier, Motivational Interviewing (MI) treats it as a starting point for meaningful conversations.

What Is Motivational Interviewing?

Motivational Interviewing is a counselling approach that helps people explore their own reasons for change, without pressure or judgment. It’s a respectful, supportive way of helping you work through the push-pull that often comes with making decisions. You’re in the driver’s seat—we’re just here to help you navigate.

You might hear MI described in different ways:

In simple terms:
“MI is a collaborative conversation style that helps strengthen your own motivation and commitment to change.”

In practice:
“MI is about helping you make sense of mixed feelings and explore what’s right for you—based on your values, your goals, and your life.”

MI isn’t about telling you what to do. It’s about listening deeply, asking thoughtful questions, and helping you make sense of where you’re at—and where you might want to go.

Why It’s Not Just a Quick Fix

While MI can be used in short sessions, the research shows it works best when there’s time to really explore your thinking. In studies where people had just one 15-minute session, the outcomes were decent. But when they had more time—say, several sessions of an hour—the results were much stronger. That’s probably because real change often takes time, reflection, and a bit of back-and-forth.

MI originally started in the health world—helping people reduce alcohol use, manage weight, or improve their health. More recently, it’s been used to address things like vaccine hesitancy. But MI isn’t just for health issues. It can also help with things like relationship struggles, career decisions, or anything where you might feel stuck or unsure.

Ambivalence Is Normal

Let’s say you’re thinking about quitting smoking, leaving a relationship, or starting something new. You might feel torn—part of you is ready, and another part isn’t. That’s ambivalence.

MI offers tools to help with this, including something called the Decisional Balance, which simply helps you look at both sides: What are the good things about staying the same? What are the reasons you might want to change?

But here’s the thing—MI isn’t about pushing you toward a particular outcome. If you’re trying to make a decision where there’s no obvious “right” answer—like whether to stay in a relationship—the counsellor stays neutral. They don’t steer you in one direction. Instead, they help you explore what matters to you.

Talking Your Way Toward Change

One of the interesting things about MI is how it pays attention to the language you use when you talk about change.

Some of the things people say when they’re starting to think about change include:

  • “I probably should cut down…”
  • “I’d like to feel better about this…”
  • “I don’t know if I can keep doing this…”

These kinds of statements are called change talk—and they’re actually signs that something inside you is shifting. MI aims to gently encourage and grow this kind of talk, because research shows that the more someone talks about change, the more likely they are to act on it.

There’s also sustain talk, which sounds like:

  • “I don’t smoke that much…”
  • “I know I should, but it helps me relax.”
  • “Now’s not really the right time.”

Both are normal. In MI, there’s no need to rush. Instead, the focus is on listening to both sides of you—and helping you get clearer about what you want to do next.

Getting Skilled Support

Like any professional approach, MI works best when the counsellor is trained and skilled in using it. Some practitioners have their sessions reviewed (with consent) by independent experts to make sure the spirit and skills of MI are being used well.

If you ever hear a practitioner say they “do MI”, you can ask what that looks like. The most effective use of MI goes beyond just asking open-ended questions or offering summaries—it’s about how your counsellor supports you in finding your own reasons for change.

What a Session Might Involve

Motivational Interviewing tends to follow a flexible process with four key parts:

  1. Engaging – Building trust and understanding
  2. Focusing – Exploring what matters most to you
  3. Evoking – Drawing out your own reasons for change
  4. Planning – When you’re ready, looking at possible next steps

You don’t have to go through these in a straight line. Some days you might focus on one step, then circle back to another later. It’s all guided by you—your pace, your readiness, your goals.


In Summary

If you’re feeling uncertain about making a change—or you’ve been thinking about it for a while but haven’t quite landed on what to do—Motivational Interviewing could be a really helpful way to explore things.

It’s not about being told what to do, and it’s not about “fixing” you. It’s a respectful, evidence-based approach that helps people work through their own ambivalence, connect with what matters to them, and move toward change when they’re ready.

Change doesn’t have to be instant. And it doesn’t have to be perfect. But it can start with a conversation.