I Tried the “Name Your Brain” Method for a Mindset Shift, and It Didn’t Go as Expected

A few years ago, I started asking myself every morning: “I wonder what good things will happen today?” It was one of those little mindset tricks I picked up from an Instagram video, and that one simple question helps detour my brain from spiraling into anxious thoughts before I even get out of bed in the morning. It also clued me into something big: just how powerful my self-talk really is.

So, naturally, when I came across the “name your brain” method online — like in this TikTok from creator Faye Plunkett — I was intrigued. I wanted to find out if this method would really work to minimize negative self-talk, so I consulted some therapists for their take on it. Then, I had plans to try it out myself. In the end, I discovered that this mental health trick ended up helping me through grief instead. Here’s what happened.

The idea is to give your brain a name so when the negative self-talk starts piping up, you can gently call it out. Faye, for instance, named her brain Becky. “I promise you, the moment you start talking to your intrusive thoughts, everything will change,” she says in the video.

The concept of naming your brain comes out of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT), explains Dr. LaKeita Carter, owner and licensed psychologist at Institute for HEALing. “It’s the idea that we should separate our negative thoughts from ourselves,” Carter says. “It’s not you having the thought. It’s ‘Negative Nia.’”

Carter says that naming the brain is an extension of self-talk. It helps you observe your thoughts like an outsider, but not react to them. It’s important, when talking to your brain, to use compassion and empathy, never shame or apathy, she adds, recommending that you talk out loud as if it were an external person.

You can externalize your brain, as well as critical inner voice, anxiety, fear, grief, and more, says Stephanie Boucher, a registered psychotherapist and the founder of The Mindful Loft Betrayal Trauma and Relational Recovery Centre in Ontario, Canada. “When we name the brain (let’s say Wendy) then we can see what provokes our thoughts rather than believing them as part of our narrative,” Boucher says.

For example, if Wendy is telling you that you’re not smart enough for a job, you can either buy into the narrative or you can get curious about the intent. Wendy might believe that if she discourages you from applying for a work position by making you believe that you are not smart enough, she will feel reassured that there is no chance you will experience failure. “When you name your brain, it becomes easier to see your thoughts as something separate from you,” Boucher says. “This means you don’t have to believe everything your brain says.”

Here are some more benefits of naming your brain, according to Boucher: 

• It helps you recognize spiraling thoughts. Giving your brain a name makes it easier to spot anxious or negative thinking, like noticing, “Oh, that’s just Wendy getting worried again.”
• It creates space between you and your thoughts. Naming the brain helps you see your thoughts as something your brain is doing, not who you are. That little bit of distance makes them feel less intense and easier to manage.
• It puts you back in the driver’s seat. Once you realize it’s just Wendy talking, you can decide whether or not to listen.
• It makes tough moments feel lighter. Adding a name can bring a little humor or perspective to soften the moment. Sometimes a small laugh or eye roll at Wendy is all it takes to break the tension.

Boucher’s best advice for using this technique? “Get to know your ‘Wendy’ the best you can,” she says. “What makes her show up and panic and what helps her relax? This information is helpful for you to know what situations, settings, and people make you feel comfortable and secure versus uncomfortable, stressed, anxious, or insecure.”

What I didn’t anticipate when I first decided to try the “name your brain” method, though, was that I’d be walking straight into one of the toughest weeks of my life. Here’s what happened when I used this method to help me get through my grief and minimize my negative self-talk for a few months, and why I will continue to use it in the future.

I couldn’t decide what to name my brain. So I asked ChatGPT for “character names that evoke someone who is overly critical and difficult to please.” The results were a parade of cartoonishly cranky names like Bertram Scowl, Tilda Snap, and Nigel Nagsby. None of them quite fit.

Then, I remembered a live show with Saturday Night Live alums Amy Poehler and Tina Fey that I’d recently seen, where Debbie Downer (played by Rachel Dratch — cue the womp womp) made a cameo appearance on stage, and it clicked: I liked the comedic relief. I wanted something that had a zing of playful energy, so I landed on “Brittany Bummer.” It’s alliterative and familiar enough to feel like a quirky alter ego.

I originally thought I’d use the tool to manage work stress. As a self-employed writer, I’m on a first-name basis with anxious thoughts. Would the same AI that suggested names for my brain come for my job? Would I lose another budget-cutting product client to tariffs? Is the draft good enough to send off to my editor?  

But two days into the experiment, my 17-year-old Boston Terrier, Tyson, crossed the rainbow bridge. My husband and I knew we were living in Tyson’s “bonus days.” He was struggling to stand and had vestibular disease, dementia, and a spinal issue. He had lost both his hearing and most of vision. When Tyson stopped eating (the first time he ever refused food in his life), my brain went into overdrive. That’s when I had to bring myself to have the first serious conversation with my brain, but it didn’t feel right to call her Bummer Brittany — I simply called it “Brain” instead. 

I appreciated the emergency problem-solving strategies my brain was providing, reliably finding new solutions to keep Tyson comfortable as he aged with dignity. But my heart knew he deserved a peaceful passing, and so I thanked Brain for springing into action before calling our vet to our house, and through sobs that felt like they were taking my breath away, told her: “It’s time.” 

In our final few hours with him, my husband and I took Tyson on one last walk in his stroller and picked wildflowers for him to honor his wild soul. Our neighbors, who weeks earlier had sung happy birthday to our dog at his “crustacean sensation”-themed 17th birthday party, came out to say goodbye to him. 

In the nearly three months since Tyson’s passing, I’ve continued to have conversations with my brain as I’ve started cycling through stages of grief. Almost immediately, my brain told me it was time to get back to work and that I had deadlines stacking up. I recognized this stemmed from my brain’s commitment to the success of my business, but I explained to my brain that I needed to take some downtime to grieve. 

As I move through grief, and the depression that’s coming with it, my brain has still sent some critical thoughts my way. But I’ve found ways to quiet them. I’ve asked myself: “What would I say to my best friend if she were going through this?” That trick has helped me show myself some grace.

In recent weeks, as the most acute waves of grief have started to soften, I’ve found myself using the “name your brain” trick in the ways I originally intended when I set out to try it. With life returning to its more typical rhythms, so have the usual suspects: deadlines, the occasional misunderstanding, and health anxieties, which are all everyday stressors that my brain sometimes magnifies into crises. I have a tendency to catastrophize, but having this “name the brain” tool in my back pocket has helped me pause and gently call out my brain when it starts overanalyzing or spiraling.

I most recently used it while waiting for the results of a routine medical screening. Instead of letting negative thoughts take over, I’ve started treating them like a familiar visitor — one I don’t have to entertain for too long. Naming my brain hasn’t made the anxious thoughts disappear completely, but it’s helped me soften them, question them, and move through them with more confidence and self-compassion.

So yes, I think I’ll keep naming my brain. Or at least keep talking to her. Sometimes, I’m sure, she’ll be Brittany Bummer. Other times, I suspect she’ll just be … brain. But either way, I’m learning how to listen and speak back with a little more gratitude and compassion, while still setting some firm boundaries.