Written by Vahid Zekavati
Copyright: NLP Radio
Introduction to the Book
Quieting the Mind: How to Let Go of Disturbing Thoughts and Return to Inner Peace
Nothing saves a life like a quiet mind. But what can we do when the mind becomes a battlefield? When nights are spent spiraling in endless loops of thought, when a single sentence turns into a storm hours later—this book was written for those very moments.
We live through our minds, and sometimes, we die in them. But the time has come to take the wheel back from intrusive thoughts. In this book, you will not only learn to observe your thoughts, but you will also make peace with yourself. Not through cold psychological formulas, but through the gentle touch of what is alive—but silent—within you.
This book is for those who are tired of themselves but still hopeful. For those searching for a way to free themselves from a mind that constantly whispers, “You are not enough.” In this five-step journey, we will walk beside you. Through stories, practices, and a voice born of experience—not from podiums—this book is an invitation to turn down the noise of a disturbing mind and hear the quieter voice that has always lived within you.
Chapter One
Why Does My Mind Exhaust Me?
Why do I think so much? Why can’t I turn it off? This is the question I often wake up with at night—and sometimes, it greets me in the morning too. Like being stuck in a crowded room, unable to find the door.
Our mind was never meant to torture us, yet sometimes it becomes our worst inner enemy. Especially when it constantly speaks of the past, the future, fears, or judgments. As if there’s no defined off switch.
Sometimes, during a peaceful moment—like sipping coffee or seeing a kind face—a dark thought suddenly intrudes: “What if all this is taken away someday?” And peace melts like snow in the sun.
For a long time, I thought I was the only one like this. That I alone couldn’t control my mind. But I later realized that this mental noise is not a personal flaw, but a misused natural mechanism.
The mind is a tool for survival, not happiness. It was built to detect danger, create solutions, and protect us. But when overactive, it fabricates imaginary threats and becomes a threat itself.
The truth is, our brain still operates like it’s in the Stone Age—constantly searching for threats even when none exist. And since there are no tigers outside the cave anymore, it turns to memories, worries, and words.
We cannot expect the mind to turn itself off. It’s always on, like a radio picking up various frequencies. But we can learn which channel not to listen to. This is the conscious choice of attention.
Someone once said, “Watch your mind like a TV, not like your real life.” That shook me. From that day, I tried to see which thoughts were just shows, and which ones were real. Most of them, I found, were fiction.
Maybe one reason for mental fatigue is the sheer volume of input. News, messages, social media, comparison-driven lives, and the anxiety fed into us. Our mind hasn’t had time to breathe or be alone.
Sometimes, the exhaustion isn’t from the thought itself—but from the judgment we attach to it. We fight every thought. We say, “Why is this damn thought back again?” That struggle drains our energy.
The mind is like a child. If you constantly scold it, it becomes more stubborn. But if you simply watch it, listen, and show curiosity, it calms down. What the mind wants more than silence is to be understood.
Our biggest mistake is thinking that peace means a silent mind. But the mind never fully shuts down. We just learn not to let its voice dominate our lives.
Learning the art of distancing from thoughts means that when a thought arises, we say: “Interesting. That’s just a thought. I don’t have to believe it.” That sentence can be the beginning of freedom.
The mind is tired because it always has to judge, analyze, compare, and predict. It’s never in the moment. Only we can pull it back from the past and future to the now, where life truly happens.
Instead of asking “Why is my mind torturing me?”, ask “How am I using my mind?” The mind is not our enemy—it’s just been left alone too long. And we’ve forgotten how to speak to it.
Most of us haven’t learned that the mind is just a thought generator, not a truth-teller. It produces thoughts, like someone writing stories. We make the mistake of treating every thought as reality.
The first step to mental calm is this: recognize that a thought is just a thought—nothing more. No matter how real it feels, it’s still just a thought. That sentence might be the most soothing medicine in the world.
Sometimes, to escape the mind, we must return to the body. Breathing, touching the earth, walking, seeing colors. The mind lives in illusion—but the body lives in reality. The more we return to the body, the less the mind needs to scream.
When the mind constantly runs, it means our nervous system is stuck in danger mode. And that’s often the result of a life filled with speed, data, and pressure. Quieting the mind becomes possible through slowness, silence, and nature.
We’re not here to destroy the mind. We’re here to learn how to turn its volume down. To say, “I hear you—but I’m in charge now.” And let it learn that it doesn’t have to shout to be heard.
Peace of mind doesn’t happen overnight. But with each moment of conscious awareness, we step closer to that sacred silence that’s always been within us. Where thought is no longer the commander, but merely a passing voice.
Chapter Two: A Loop Called Repetition – Why the Mind Won’t Let Go
Our mind is a professional repeater; any thought that once hurt becomes a pattern it replays a thousand times.
This isn’t a mistake—it’s a defense mechanism. The mind believes revisiting pain will prepare us.
But repeated revisiting doesn’t prepare us—it wounds us further.
The brain is built for survival, not happiness.
It assumes replaying that betrayal, mistake, or fear will keep us safe.
So whenever we’re still, those disturbing thoughts appear as protectors.
But those protectors become jailers.
They rob us of presence, peace, and the taste of life.
They’re no longer guards of safety—they’re guardians of suffering.
Negative thoughts form a “closed loop.”
Each thought creates a painful feeling; that feeling births more thoughts, and the cycle continues endlessly.
To break the loop, we must interrupt it somewhere.
Sometimes interruption begins with awareness.
Ask: “What thought am I having now?”, “What feeling does it trigger?”, “Is this feeling real or just a repetition?”
Just asking begins to break the spell.
The mind can’t tell real from imagined.
If we think about betrayal or death, the body reacts chemically as if it happened.
We’re poisoning our bodies with toxic imagination.
When the mind fixates on the past or future, the body enters emergency mode.
Stress hormones, shallow breathing, muscle tension, constant anxiety—these are signs of mental entrapment.
So the first victim of intrusive thoughts is the body.
The mind wants to solve problems—but painful thoughts are not problems, they’re signals.
Like smoke from an old fire.
If we try to solve the smoke, the fire still burns.
The real fire is buried emotion.
Fears, sadness, anger that were never allowed to surface now express themselves through thoughts.
Understanding this shifts power from thought to feeling.
When we see and hear our emotions, the mind calms down.
A mind that ignores feeling is forced to manage it with thought.
And thought always misleads.
If a thought keeps repeating, ask: what emotion is behind it that hasn’t been seen?
Maybe it’s a long-suppressed grief or ignored fear.
And that’s where the mind begins to quiet.
We must learn that thoughts are not us.
They are echoes of past experiences and teachings.
We can witness them without becoming them.
Observing thoughts is like watching clouds.
We don’t have to fly with each or fear them.
We simply watch and let them pass.
Some thoughts seem logical but are driven by fear.
For instance: “What if I fail again?” hides a fear of being unworthy.
So what matters more than the thought is its emotional source.
When trapped by a thought, sit down and write.
What’s the thought? What feeling does it trigger? What memory is it tied to?
Writing deflates its power.
Our mind is like a scared child shouting for attention.
If we listen with compassion rather than scolding, it softens.
That child deserves empathy.
Intrusive thoughts gain power only when we believe them more than ourselves.
Remind yourself: “Am I this thought? No. I’m the one seeing it.”
This distinction brings peace.
Learn to smile at disturbing thoughts.
Not with mockery—but with wisdom.
Knowing this thought is just a voice from past wounds, not a prophet of doom.
Finally, accept that the mind may never be totally silent.
But you get to choose which voice you listen to.
That choice is the beginning of freedom.
Chapter Three
Rebuilding Your Inner Dialogue
No one in this world talks to you more than the voice in your own head. Every day, every moment, you’re engaged in a conversation with yourself. If that voice is filled with blame, doubt, fear, or anxiety, life turns into a dark prison.
Most people don’t even realize how they talk to themselves. They believe their “thoughts” are the absolute truth—not echoes from childhood or unresolved memories.
Inner dialogue is like a river—it either carries you to the sea or drowns you in a swamp. If you learn to purify this river, your mind will become clearer, too.
One sign of disturbing thoughts is the inner voice that says “You’re not enough,” “You’ll fail,” “You’re bad.” That voice often comes from someone important in your early life.
If your inner dialogue is full of anger, hate, or fear, know that it’s not “you.” It’s just a voice stuck in your mind, far from your true self.
The first step to rebuilding your inner voice is to listen. Not to drown in it—just observe it. Hear how it speaks to you.
The second step is to identify the patterns. Do you always criticize yourself after making a mistake? Do you immediately question your worth when someone pulls away?
The third step is rewriting. This isn’t easy, but it’s doable. Instead of saying “I always mess things up,” say, “I’m still learning, and I have the right to make mistakes.”
This rewriting must include emotion, not just words. If you only change the words but not the feeling, you won’t create lasting change in your psyche.
To heal your inner voice, you must speak to yourself like a kind friend—not a ruthless judge. A friend who understands you, not one who blames you.
Sometimes you need to repeat phrases to yourself, even if they feel like lies at first. Like, “I’m worthy, even if I’m not perfect,” or “My mistakes are part of my growth.”
Writing is also a powerful tool to clarify inner dialogue. When you write how your mind talks to you, it becomes easier to reshape it.
Be mindful of media, social comparison, and toxic influences. They often fill our inner voice with the poison of “not enough.”
Remember, your inner voice is fed by your beliefs. If you believe you’re unlovable, your voice will echo that endlessly.
So work on your beliefs, and slowly your voice will change. From “I’m powerless” to “I’m getting stronger,” from “I’ll always be alone” to “I’m building a healthy connection.”
Another powerful tool is inner dialogue meditation. Close your eyes, listen to the mind’s voice, and consciously rewrite it with love.
Don’t forget: your inner voice can become your most loyal friend, if you give it space to grow. Speak to it like you would to a scared child.
You can retrain yourself. Rebuild your voice. Transform it from a cruel judge into a compassionate coach.
When your inner voice becomes kind, even when intrusive thoughts show up, they lose their grip. They come, but you don’t surrender.
So practice. Every day. Several times a day. Talk to yourself, but this time with love. Water your mind with new words.
Because no voice in this world is more important than the one that addresses you daily. If that voice heals, your whole life will heal.
Chapter Four: Mastering Your Inner Dialogue, Escaping Endless Judgments
The silence we lack is replaced by an endless inner monologue. A voice that criticizes, blames, scares, and scrutinizes our every move. If not tamed, this inner voice can become our worst enemy. We often mistake our thoughts for truths, when in fact, many are just echoes of old conditioning.
Negative self-talk often starts in childhood, from phrases like “you’re not good enough,” “you must be better,” or “you’re a failure.” These phrases become internalized and later in adulthood, we repeat them to ourselves, over and over.
How can we silence this voice? Through awareness, stopping automatic thoughts, and replacing them with kinder dialogues. We don’t have to lie to ourselves, but we must learn to speak to ourselves, not against ourselves. There’s a big difference between being realistic and being cruel.
Our minds learn through repetition. Just as we’ve repeated self-damaging thoughts for years, we can now begin repeating healing phrases that rewire the mind. Instead of “I always mess up,” say, “I’m learning, not failing.”
These new dialogues may feel fake at first. That’s normal. The mind resists. But like learning a new language, consistent practice eventually replaces old patterns with compassionate ones.
Will we never have negative thoughts again? No. But we don’t have to become them. We can hear the thoughts and choose which to listen to. The mind is like a radio with many stations. We can choose to change the frequency.
A powerful technique is writing down negative thoughts and then rewriting them. If you write, “I’m a failure,” beside it write, “I had a setback, not a defeat.” These small rewrites rebuild the mental structure.
Also helpful is the “thought-stopping” technique. When you catch a destructive thought, pause. Say “Stop!” out loud if needed, take a deep breath, and shift your focus deliberately.
Over time, your relationship with your mind changes. Instead of being a victim to the inner voice, you become a witness. And from this witnessing comes peace. You realize not every thought deserves your belief.
Much of mental peace comes from self-reconciliation—forgiving yourself, being kind in hard times, and celebrating small progress. This inner kindness neutralizes the storm.
Our mind was built for survival, not happiness. It always scans for threats. But we can train it to also see opportunities. That shift—from survival to growth—is life-changing.
In this chapter, you learn that when judgmental voices arise, instead of fighting or obeying them, simply listen. Then, decide whether or not to believe them. Most times, you’ll see belief isn’t necessary.
Sometimes ask: “What good does this thought do?” If it only weakens or paralyzes you, treat it like noise, not guidance. Not all thoughts are useful.
Self-compassion is the moment the battlefield becomes a warm home. You’re not meant to be perfect—you’re meant to be at peace. That peace is the antidote to tormenting thoughts.
If you can’t be kind to yourself, the world will always feel cruel. The root of freedom from painful thinking lies in your relationship with yourself. Build that bond like you would with a loyal friend—gently, daily.
When your mind begins judging again, you can say, “Thank you for your concern, but I choose a better thought.” This simple sentence can redirect your mental energy. Respect the mind, but don’t let it rule you.
In the end, it doesn’t matter how loud your thoughts are. What matters is that you have the power to turn the volume down. That power comes through practice. Each practice is a step toward mental freedom.
Our inner dialogue shapes our future. If your inner language is filled with love, your life will echo peace. This is not a promise—it’s a psychological truth. A calm mind begins with calming words.
You can change the voice inside your head. Maybe you’re not completely calm yet, but you can become calmer. Maybe you’re still struggling, but you’re no longer imprisoned. That small shift is the beginning of liberation.
Chapter Five: Your Mind, A Home for Peace
My mind was always a battlefield. Thoughts attacked from every direction. One said, “You’re not enough.” Another whispered, “It’s too late.” One screamed, “Everyone is judging you.” In that chaos, there was no voice of love.
Then I realized I shouldn’t fight my thoughts. Fighting only continues the war. I needed to listen—but not like a slave. Like a mother who lets her child cry, but doesn’t let the house burn.
From that day, I practiced: when a disturbing thought came, I greeted it. Asked its name. Said, “What message do you have?” And then let it go. Not with force. Not with fear. Just with respect.
It’s not easy. The mind is used to either control or collapse. But there’s a third way: presence. When you’re present, you don’t need to control the mind. You just exist—deeper than any thought.
I found a simple practice. Whenever a disturbing thought appeared, I took a deep breath, named it, and smiled. Even if the smile felt fake, I kept it. Because a smile connects the body to the mind.
Gradually, my mind understood it didn’t need to scream. It would be heard. It would be seen. It would be accepted. Like a child who stops crying once it knows its mother is there.
Now, every thought that arises—I ask: “Whose voice is this? Where did I inherit it from?” Sometimes I hear my father, or my mother’s fears, or a memory from school. And this awareness sets me free.
The mind, when seen, is not dangerous. It’s frightening only when unknown. Like a dark room where we fear the shadows—until we turn on the light and see it’s just a coat hanging.
I’ve learned the mind is a mirror. If I want to see war, it shows me war. If I want to see peace, it reflects peace. The choice is mine. And that freedom is the beginning of release.
Sometimes my mind still gets noisy. But I no longer fear it. I know it’s just a wave, and I am the ocean. No wave can threaten the ocean. No thought can swallow my being.
I’ve learned to love my mind. Not because it’s perfect—but because it’s part of me. Like my heart, like my hands. I train it, but I don’t punish it. I guide it, but don’t shame it.
Now I don’t chase “absolute silence.” I’ve realized that even in noise, silence can exist. True silence doesn’t require outer calm—it just needs inner light.
And that’s how my mind becomes a home for peace. Where thoughts are guests, not owners. Where I am the host—with tea, with a smile, with presence.
So if your mind is still loud, don’t be afraid. It means you’re alive. It only means now it’s time to choose: war or friendship? fear or embrace? doubt or trust? You are always free.
Peace is not the goal. It is the result of embracing chaos. The mind, when accepted, finds its way to silence. Like a child who stops crying once heard.
And this is how the tormenting mind ends, and the peaceful mind begins. Not by deleting thoughts, but by understanding them. Not by running, but by seeing. Not by force, but by love.
Conclusion
We began this journey with a simple yet profound question: “How can I free my mind from distressing thoughts?” A question not just rooted in psychology, but in the silent cries of our inner world longing to be heard.
In Chapter One, we learned that our minds have dark rooms that can be lit with even a small lamp. Understanding the mechanism of thought was our first step toward freedom. The mind is not our enemy—it is a space quietly calling for healing.
Chapter Two revealed the power of breathing. With practices like deep breathing, meditation, and nervous system calming, we saw that even in a storm, peace is possible. We learned that “calm” is not a miracle—it’s a skill.
Chapter Three confronted our limiting beliefs. We discovered that many intrusive thoughts stem from unresolved past wounds. But there is hope—because beliefs can be rewritten, just like old memories.
In Chapter Four, we explored the art of self-compassion. We shifted from harmful inner talk to healing dialogue. Through journaling, gratitude, and self-love, we saw ourselves with new, gentler eyes.
Chapter Five encouraged action. We realized that freedom doesn’t come only from stillness—it also arises from mindful movement. Small, daily steps can retrain the mind to resist the grip of repetitive thoughts.
Throughout this journey, a quiet truth was always near: our mind is a tool, not a master. We can choose which thoughts to embrace and which to release. With practice, we reclaim the power to decide.
If we had to sum up this book in one sentence, it would be this: intrusive thoughts may be loud, but they are not always true. Inner peace is always possible—if we remember we are not just spectators of our mind, but its authors.
Modern life may be noisy, but inner silence is trainable. This book is a map—a path back to ourselves, toward reconciliation with the mind, and liberation from the inner war we’ve fought for too long.
And now, it’s your turn. Close the book—but begin the practice. What you’ve learned is more than knowledge—it’s an invitation to a calmer, kinder, more conscious life. Your mind awaits—not for judgment, but for freedom.
