Words Shape Reality
How our language affects our ability to transform reality
"Change the way you look at things, and the things you look at change." - Wayne Dyer
A Short History
Nostalgia
In the late 1600s Johannes Hofer encountered Swiss patients with a variety of symptoms: sadness, apathy, anxiety, restlessness, insomnia, loss of appetite, cognitive challenges, irregular pulse, gastro-intestinal issues, and more. One symptom stood out—an intense yearning to return to home.
Hofer proposed we call this affliction "nostalgia"—a diagnosis that combined two Ancient Greek words: nostos, a return to one's native area, and algos, pain and suffering. He stated individuals were "sympathetic of an afflicted imagination," caused by "continuous vibration of animal spirits."
His remedy? Return home.
Shell Shock
In the midst of World War I, Charles Myers, a Cambridge psychologist, coined the term "shell shock" to describe the condition. The prevailing theory was that the symptoms were a result of a physical injury to the nervous system inflicted by heavy bombardments or shell attacks. Treatments ranged from psychotherapy, hydrotherapy, electrotherapy, and even hypnosis.
Due to the widespread diagnosis of shell shock amongst veterans, the British government declared it wasn't a valid battle casualty and recommended the term be abandoned. While no official statement was made, the decision was likely influenced by the financial costs of care.
"No soldier should be allowed to think that loss of nervous or mental control provides an honorable avenue of escape from the battlefield." - Report of the War Office Committee of Inquiry into "Shell-Shock"
Combat Fatigue
In World War II, Combat Stress Reaction (CSR) replaced "shell shock". It was more commonly referred to as "combat fatigue." Since there was a constraint on the men available for active duty, soldiers diagnosed with CSR were sent to aid stations on the rear lines and dosed up with sodium amytal—a powerful sedative. The result? A deep slumber. Most soldiers returned to combat within three days.
During the war, a medical officer by the name Thomas W. Salmon established the PIE principles. Treatment was to be as close to the front lines as possible (proximity), without delay (immediacy), and coupled with an expectation that they were expected to return to combat after rest (expectancy).
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Following the Vietnam War, the condition was officially codified in the DSM-III as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Decades of additional research and observation informed this change. They also observed the symptoms in individuals that were not exposed to combat, but experienced other traumatic stress. Cognitive behavioral therapy remains the primary method of treatment and focuses on the relationship between an individual's thoughts, feelings, and behaviors.
Treatment
Notice how the words used to name a condition correlate with its treatment. If your patient has nostalgia, you send them home. If they have shell shock, you treat the nervous system. If they have combat fatigue, you make them rest.
But if they have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, you treat the trauma, the stress it causes, and the behaviors that it manifests. There are many factors that influence our approach to various disorders, but it's no coincidence that it's no longer called nostalgia. A shared understanding of PTSD as a concept—between medical professionals, patients, and the public at large—plays a critical role in its treatment.
This phenomenon is not unique to psychology. Our capacity for language was essential to our dominance as a species. Without the ability to communicate complex concepts, human progress would be hindered, and the world would be far different than the one we know today. Words don't just describe reality; they shape our understanding of it and influence the way we think and act.
Individuality
The power of naming begins early in our development. Parents of small children have a window into this phenomenon, as I discovered during a conversation with my son.
"They are all cats" I said.
"No they aren't!" my son replied.
"Yes they are buddy" I responded.
"No!" he shouted.
After the third loop, I gave up. I was telling him that lions and tigers were cats, like our pets—Mulberry and Snickerdoodle. This shattered his model of reality. Lions were lions, tigers were tigers, and cats were cats. I'll admit, it's a bit confusing for a four year old.
Humans are wired to pattern match and assign labels. Despite a variety of art styles in picture books, small children can recognize the difference between a lion, a tiger, and a house cat. This applies regardless of whether they've seen the illustration or even the drawing style before. We are biological prediction machines from day one.
But like my son and I, every person's model of reality differs. This divergence in perception widens as concepts become more complex. Furthermore, our reality is shaped by our experience and cultural context. A child growing up in a big cat sanctuary would have a more nuanced model of lions and tigers than I'll ever have. Someone from China would associate a tiger with complicated concepts and possibly their identity as a result of its prominence in the Chinese zodiac.
Evolution
Further complicating things, words are malleable and evolve over time. We regularly create new words and give old words new meaning. Teenagers are great at this. Hang around them for awhile and you're bound to hear words you never knew existed or familiar words used in ways you don't comprehend. Their vocabulary of slang affects how they approach the world.
This means that, if your definition of a word remains fixed while the others have evolved their understanding, your ability to communicate is hindered. It's as if you're navigating a city using an outdated map. Most streets are the same, but a few are gone and others have different names. You may eventually arrive at your destination but not without complications.
Just as nostalgia evolved into PTSD and transformed its treatment, the language we use and how we use it affects how we treat ourselves.
Self-Talk
Consider the difference between saying you need to "go to bed early" versus "go to bed on time." Under this reframing, your bedtime goals shift from being "early" versus "on time." This subtle shift provides a new perspective on the challenge.
Imagine saying "I am a procrastinator" instead of "I tend to procrastinate." The former paints the picture as a fixed component of your identity while the latter identifies procrastination as a behavior that can be changed.
How about having a list of "tasks" versus "commitments." The word task doesn't have the same gravity as the word commitment. It carries a different meaning and lived experience. A task is an action that must be completed. A commitment is a promise that must be kept.
The words we choose have a profound impact on our ability to change habits, overcome challenges, and pursue goals. Someone in recovery learns to say "I don't drink" rather than "I can't drink." The word "can't" implies this is an outside restriction, while "don't" empowers the individual by framing it as a commitment they are keeping.
Change the label, change the model.
Change the model, change your reality.
If we stopped at nostalgia we would have never developed treatments for PTSD. Each evolution of terminology represented an expansion in our understanding of the condition and introduced a new framework for change.
Conclusion
As you pursue personal growth—changing habits, overcoming challenges, or pursuing goals—be intentional with your words. Your language creates a mental architecture which can limit or expand your possibilities. This isn't just a practice in positive thinking—it's an active reconstruction of how you perceive and interact with the world.
Words shape reality.
Which words are limiting yours?
"The limits of my language mean the limits of my world." - Ludwig Wittgenstein
But I love staying up late to game. What I need to do is get off my phone after I’m done gaming. Ugh!