Imagine this: you're lying awake in bed, replaying a conversation in your head. Maybe it's the argument you had with your partner last night or the details of a work event that went horribly wrong for you. As you lay there, your mind whirs, trying to make sense of it all. This is rumination—a mental process that can feel like being stuck in a loop of your own thoughts. But is all rumination created equal? Is there a way to harness this seemingly endless replay of thoughts for good?
Rumination is, at its core, the tendency to revisit the past. In a psychologist's clinic, we often talk about rumination in a negative light, framing it as a sign of anxiety or depression—a vicious cycle of thoughts with no resolution. Yet, there is another side to rumination that may be more useful, even adaptive. Drawing from the evolutionary insights of Ed Hagen and the critical thinking of Carol Tavris, we might just find a way to distinguish productive rumination from its darker counterpart.
The Evolution of Rumination
To understand the difference, let's take a trip back in time, to our early ancestors roaming the savannas. For them, rumination was not a luxury—it was a necessity. When faced with threats from predators, starvation, or social conflict, humans needed to quickly learn from their environment and find novel ways of adapting to changing threats. Rumination, in this context, was like a cognitive Swiss Army knife, helping them analyze past encounters and formulate a variety of plans (and contingency plans) for the future.
Ed Hagen, an evolutionary anthropologist, has argued that rumination evolved as a mechanism to help us solve complex social problems. In small hunter-gatherer societies, where social bonds were critical to survival, a perceived slight or betrayal could mean the difference between life and death. Rumination, therefore, became a way to figure out what went wrong in a social exchange and how to avoid similar pitfalls in the future. It was a mental tool designed to keep you alive and, perhaps more importantly, the tribe in good stead.
But here's the catch: the same cognitive process that helped early humans survive can become tragically maladaptive in our modern, fast-paced world. What once was a strategy to solve immediate, tangible problems can turn into a relentless cycle of self-criticism and doubt. So, how do we know when our rumination is helping us and when it's holding us back?
Productive vs. Negative Rumination
Let's start by defining our terms. Productive rumination (the kind suggested by Hagen's anthropological research) is an iterative thinking process that tends to generate insight and problem-solving. It's a form of reflective cognition where we process a challenging experience, understand its underlying dynamics, and come away with a new perspective or plan of action. It's what happens when you reflect on a stilted presentation and realize, "Next time, I need to be more concise and firm in my delivery."
On the other hand, negative rumination is a circular, often obsessive pattern of thinking that focuses on distress, blame, or hopelessness. It's the voice in your head that whispers, "I always mess things up," or "Why did I even try?" I have observed that negative rumination has a linguistic pattern in which the self is often stuck on questions of “Why?” “Why me?” and “What if?” Rarely, if ever, does a person stuck in negative rumination consider the inverse proposition: "Why not me?" Negative rumination, in short, is like spinning your wheels in the mud—you're working hard, but you're not getting anywhere remotely more conclusive or reassuring.
In her classic book on anger, Carol Tavris, a social psychologist, has argued against what she calls the "ventilationist" approach to psychotherapy—the idea that venting or rehashing your feelings endlessly is inherently therapeutic. Tavris, in fact, looks at the popularly touted benefits of emotional “venting” (particularly of anger), which include: improved communication, physical release, improved self-esteem, ensuing peace and well-being, conflict resolution. One by one, she explodes these myths by showing that—more often than not—the precise opposite happens when we uncritically brood and vent out our grievances. Ventilation may feel good in the short term, but without a framework for understanding and changing the underlying dynamics, it often does more harm than good.
So, how do we encourage productive rumination while steering clear of its darker side? Based on the research of Tavris and others, here are some questions worth pondering:
What triggers your rumination? Is it specific events, people, or situations that set you off? Understanding these triggers can help you recognize when you're slipping into ruminative patterns. If you are going to ruminate, it is essential to have a clearer picture of what exactly is causing your anger. The triggers will usually be a combination of external (i.e., people, environment, situations) and internal (i.e., deep-seated thoughts, insecurities, internal tensions) factors.
How do you ruminate? Pay attention to the nature of your thoughts. Are the thoughts focused on finding a solution, or are they more about assigning blame or reliving the negative experience? Ask yourself, "What am I getting out of this?" If the answer is clarity or a sense of direction, your rumination may be productive. If it's anxiety or a sense of defeat, it might be time to change tactics.
Are you crossing the hot-cold empathy gap? The hot-cold empathy gap refers to a hypothetical divide in our minds when we switch from thinking in open-minded, rational terms to a high-arousal state that is primarily driven by stereotypical emotional responses. Notice any physical symptoms that accompany your rumination, such as muscle tension or changes in breathing. Your body often knows when your mind is overloading. When we enter into a higher-arousal state, the brain often infers that we are entering into a higher-risk situation and so our threat-perception is increased. When we operate under conditions of high threat, we are more likely to default towards the more confrontational (i.e., existential crisis) thinking that powers negative rumination. When we are highly aroused we are, in fact, operating with a different pilot in the cockpit.
Do you have appropriate cool-down strategies? If you are on the wrong side of the hot-cold empathy gap, do you have appropriate cool-down strategies? These strategies could involve mental counting, going to bed (yes, you can go to bed angry!), exercising, meditation/relaxation, or taking up a distracting activity.
Is the rumination working towards a concrete solution? For your rumination to be effective it must be gearing you to take action that moves you towards a concrete solution to the problem that is driving your distress. Some relevant questions to ask here:
Are you taking responsibility for making a change to the current situation?
Do you believe your action will restore your sense of control over the situation?
Will taking action help you feel a sense of appropriate justice has been achieved?
Will the target of your actions be able to receive and understand you? If not, is there a way to modify your approach so you will get the reaction that you are hoping for? If not, is taking action here really in your best interest or can that energy be redeployed towards a more suitable goal?
As you able to widen your perspective? With negative rumination, we are frequently trapped within a singular perspective of the problem. Too often, the perspective portrays ourselves as the hapless victim and the (offending) other(s) as selfish—or worse, maleficent—antagonists who lack virtue and ethics. Instinctively, we may reach out to friends or the online community to reaffirm what we already believe--we were right, they were wrong. Rarely do we tolerate an interlocutor who challenges us to consider whether our views about the situation--or the offending other--are entirely accurate. According to research done by Elizabeth Loftus, a leading memory expert, one particularly pernicious downside to this self-confirming tendency is that our memories of the situation itself may change to fit the narrative we habitually recreate in our minds. In these circumstances, it can be tremendously helpful to widen our perspective and consider other ways of looking at the problem—perhaps even from the perspective of the accused. How can we do that? Writing, says James Pennebaker, a very well-regarded social psychologist, can be the key. In many of his research studies, Pennebaker instructs his participants to write about an offensive situation, while including their thoughts and feelings about the event. Crucially however, the writing is not meant to get us emotionally wound up so we explode on something (or someone). Instead, the benefit of writing lies in our ability to reframe or reinterpret the event, finding new meaning in it and being able to put the event behind you. Perhaps you may be able to consider how your childhood bully may have had a torrid childhood themselves, or may deeply regret their behavior now. Perhaps—and this is the hardest part—there are things within us that added fuel to the fire and made the situation worse for ourselves? For example, when we find ourselves feeling unfairly accused of something, it can be helpful to remember that others are also prone to making mistakes about our intentions. In fact, it is an illusory belief that others can (or will) accurately read our intentions when judging our behaviors. Note that with all of this reflecting, it is not necessary (or even possible) to arrive at the “right” conclusion. The point is to develop a bit more cognitive flexibility so that you can ‘unstick’ from your more self-defeating thought patterns.
Are you able to evaluate the results? After taking action, are you able to take a step back and impartially view the results? What are the net-gains from your work—are you able to take appropriate satisfaction in your accomplishment? In other words, can you give yourself positive reinforcement and bolster your self-esteem by recognizing what you were able to productively achieve (no matter how small?) What about the drawbacks—are there things that didn’t go as well? Resisting the temptation to entirely blame the other person (see above), what can we learn and improve on? Rather than accepting that we are doomed to live with the unsatisfying results of an initial foray into change, a growth mindset is required to properly evaluate our results and draw conclusions for the future.
The Takeaway
Rumination can be a double-edged sword. As we've seen, productive rumination can be a powerful tool for reflection and growth, helping us to solve problems, learn from past experiences, and gain new perspectives. It's a process that has kept our hunter-gatherer progenitors in good stead; it is designed to help us navigate the complexities of survival and social life. However, negative rumination—marked by repetitive, self-defeating thoughts—can trap us in a cycle of anxiety and hopelessness.
The challenge lies in harnessing rumination for good. By understanding what triggers your rumination, mitigating your arousal, establishing a goal, working towards a solution, taking perspectives and fair-mindedly evaluating the results, you can steer your mind toward more productive avenues. As Carol Tavris warns, venting isn't enough; we need to engage with our thoughts in a way that promotes real understanding and change.
For further exploration, you might consider diving into Ed Hagen's work on the evolution of rumination, which offers a fascinating look at why this cognitive process developed in the first place. You could also explore Carol Tavris' critique of the ‘ventilationist’ approach to understand how rumination can go wrong when not handled properly. And if you're curious about how writing might help you "unstick" from negative thought patterns, James Pennebaker's research on expressive writing is a great place to start.
The next time you find yourself stuck in a loop of thoughts, remember: it's not about stopping the rumination—it's about doing it right. It's about using your mind as a tool for insight and growth, not a weapon against yourself.