Our intellect serves our psychological comfort, constructing a flawless system of evidence. For example, we often say: "I didn't go to the meeting because it was inefficient." Or: "I answered sharply because you can't deal with such people otherwise." Or the classic: "I didn't apply for this opportunity because it's not really that interesting." Another common example concerns procrastination, when we convince ourselves: "I put off the work until the last minute because I work much better and more productively under the pressure of deadlines." There might be a grain of truth in these words. But if the explanation appears too quickly and leaves no room for emotional honesty, it is worth looking closer.

Rationalization helps the psyche maintain a positive self-image. Our brain has a hard time tolerating the state of cognitive dissonance—situations where our real actions do not match our ideas of our own righteousness or perfection. If I acted in a way I wouldn't want to think of myself, I can find an explanation that makes my action logical, correct, or inevitable. If I didn't dare, I can say it wasn't necessary. If I got offended, I can explain it by principles. If I failed, I can devalue the goal itself. This is reminiscent of Aesop's famous fable about the fox and the grapes: when the fox couldn't reach the bunch, she decided the grapes were just sour and green. In the same way, we often devalue a job we weren't hired for, convincing ourselves that "this company has a toxic culture, and I wouldn't have worked there anyway."

This mechanism often covers up shame, fear, envy, guilt, addiction, or powerlessness. Facing these feelings raw can be so painful that the psyche builds a wall of rational arguments. For example, a person might say: "I don't need intimacy, I just love freedom," although they are actually afraid of being rejected. Or: "I don't want to ask for help because everyone is busy," although deeper down there is a fear of appearing weak. A person with a social media addiction might explain hours of scrolling by saying, "I need to keep up with the news for my profession." Rationalization creates a sense of control: if I have explained everything, it means I am not confused, vulnerable, or dependent.

In a moderate form, rationalization can be useful. It helps to organize experience, reduce chaos, and find meaning in a situation. After severe stress, it is the ability to rationalize that helps a person not to drown in emotions and maintain the ability to function. The problem is not in the ability to explain itself, but in the fact that the explanation can become a way not to feel. When this mechanism becomes dominant, life turns into endless self-deception. Then a person loses contact with their motives and repeats the same patterns, convincingly proving to themselves that each time it was "logical."

In relationships, rationalization often prevents apologizing. A sincere apology requires vulnerability, whereas rationalization offers protective armor. Instead of "I was harsh because I got scared," it sounds like "I just told the truth." Instead of "I disappeared because I couldn't handle the tension"—"I needed some time alone." Because of this, partners, friends, or colleagues feel that their feelings are being ignored, because it is impossible to argue with "flawless logic." Sometimes this is indeed the truth, but incomplete. Rationalization often does not lie completely; it chooses the part of the truth that allows one to avoid touching the painful core.

For self-reflection, it is important not to fight rationalization. Attempts to harshly criticize oneself for self-deception will only increase anxiety and force the psyche to defend itself even more aggressively. It appears not because a person is bad, but because it is difficult for them to bear a contradiction. It is normal to have ambivalent, mixed feelings. I can love a person and be angry with them. I can want success and fear it. I can hold values and at the same time act out of resentment. Maturity begins where the explanation does not cover up the inner truth, but helps to see it. It is the ability to acknowledge one's complexity with all its flaws, fears, and irrational manifestations.

Rationalization fits very naturally with MriyaRun products, which feature writing practice, working with thoughts, and exploring repetitive reactions. Writing slows down the train of thought. Here it is important to create a pause between the event and the ready-made explanation. This pause is a safe space where you can meet your true emotions.

For example, in a diary, you can divide a page into three parts: "what happened," "how I explain it," "what I feel if I don't believe the explanation for a minute." A real-life example:

It is precisely the third part that often reveals the material the defense was trying to bypass.

The following are well-suited for this topic:

Here are a few questions you can ask yourself during writing practice:

Rationalization can be explored through writing practice: not to blame yourself for self-deception, but to broaden your truth. Working with notebooks allows you to put your thoughts on paper, where it is easier to examine them from a different angle and without judgment. MriyaRun tools help to see not only the logic of the reaction but also the emotion, need, and internal conflict.