What You Can Trust in Neuroscience—And What to Hold Gently By Don Elium, MFT
In recent years, neuroscience has become a powerful tool for helping people understand themselves. But not all neuroscience is created equal. Some insights are solid, grounded, and repeatable. Others are still being tested or have been stretched too far from the original research. Here’s a guide to what we can trust and what we should hold gently as we keep learning.
Your brain is constantly predicting.
The human brain doesn’t just respond to life—it tries to stay one step ahead. It constantly makes guesses about what will happen, how someone will respond, or what a situation means. Sometimes it gets it right. Sometimes it runs an old story on autopilot. This prediction system is helpful—it saves time, protects us from danger—but can also create relationship misunderstandings. Knowing that your brain is a prediction machine can help you pause before reacting, and ask: What did I think was going to happen here?
Your nervous system has a range it can handle.
Every nervous system has a threshold—a window where you can think, stay connected, and feel like yourself. When you’re outside that window—either shut down or overwhelmed—it’s harder to regulate, communicate, or even remember what matters. This is not weakness. It’s biology. Learning where your window is and how to return to it is a core part of healing and growth.
You regulate best in connection.
We aren’t wired to calm down all by ourselves. The body feels safest when it’s with another body that feels safe. That’s why the tone of voice, rhythm of breath, or simple presence of someone steady can help regulate your nervous system even before you understand what’s happening. This isn’t magic. It’s vagus nerve physiology. Co-regulation isn’t a nice idea—it’s the foundation of how humans return to balance.
Your brain can change. Slowly, and with support.
Neural plasticity is real. Your patterns are not fixed, even if they’re familiar. The brain can rewire through repetition, safety, and new experiences. But plasticity is not instant. The brain doesn’t change on demand. It changes when there is enough evidence that a new pattern is safer than the old one. That’s why healing takes time, and consistency matters more than intensity.
What to Hold Gently
Brain regions are not behavior.
We’ve all seen it: “the amygdala is the fear center,” or “the insula controls empathy.” These statements are oversimplified. Most human experiences—like trust, grief, or compassion—result from networks of regions working together. Your brain is not a machine with buttons. It’s a complex, relational system. Naming brain parts can help, but they’re metaphors—not absolutes.
Polyvagal theory is influential—but partial.
Polyvagal theory has changed the way we talk about safety and connection. It gives language to why we shut down, or why we can’t connect when we’re flooded. But it doesn’t explain everything. Not all trauma shows up in neat vagal states, and not all healing happens through tone and breath. Use it as a lens, not a label. Your story deserves more than a chart.
Mirror neurons don’t guarantee empathy.
It’s a popular idea: “We feel what others feel through mirror neurons.” There’s some truth in it, but empathy is more than brain mirroring. It’s shaped by development, attachment, experience, and safety. Some people don’t feel much when others cry—not because they’re broken, but because their system learned not to track others too closely. Empathy is not automatic. It’s earned and practiced.
Neurology cannot define you.
You may hear phrases like “ADHD brains work this way” or “autistic people always do that.” These frames can be helpful, especially when they relieve shame or offer clarity. But they are still frames. No diagnosis, no neural pattern, can capture the fullness of your story. Your nervous system plays a role in how you move through the world, but it does not get the final word on who you are.
THEREFORE: Use neuroscience as a guide, not a gospel.
It can help name what’s happening. It can reduce shame. It can give you tools. But it cannot tell you what matters most. For that, we still need presence, connection, and the ongoing work of being human. Your brain is not the whole of you. It’s part of your story—and it’s listening.