I began to think about this book shortly after my first self-help book, Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life, became popular in 2006. I drafted a crude proposal but it was odd and it languished. I’m a geek by training and personality, and even among psychologists it is a bit of a joke that I can be incomprehensible. It was not until Linda Loewenthal reached out a few years later and became my agent that the project began to move. Linda brought that needed mixture of support, pushing, wisdom, skill, patience, and caring that by 2011 had turned the project into something real. Her trust in me, and her unwaveringly honest feedback over the years, lifted me up and pushed me forward.
The late John Cloud, the Time magazine reporter who plucked me out of obscurity in 2006 when he wrote the story that launched the success of Get Out of Your Mind, helped produce the first well-crafted proposal and sample chapter drafts. I have dedicated this book to him because in an alternate universe, he and I would have written the entire volume together as I had originally hoped. He was a brilliant writer and a deep soul, and I so hope the spirit of John is reflected in this book.
Spencer Smith, a professional writer and co-author of Get Out of Your Mind, also helped with the proposal. Spencer is what my Jewish relatives would call a mensch—he is an honorable, kind, reliable, ethical straight shooter. I am blessed to call him a friend and colleague.
Emily Loose was my development editor for this book. Amazingly able, wise, and persistent, she deliberately allowed the ideas in the book to enter into her life so she could bring her gut feel to the development process. I was honored, moved, and impressed by that approach—she is simply the best.
Caroline Sutton at Penguin/Avery gave very helpful input on the text at critical points of the development processes.
All of my adult children (Camille, Charlie, and Esther) were sounding boards and gave specific input, from Esther’s drawings to Camille’s title ideas.
My wife, Jacque, stood by me for the many years and endless rewrites it took to get these words produced. Trips, interviews, writing binges, research—all shifted obligations onto her shoulders. I can’t ever repay that debt, but it brings tears to my eyes to acknowledge and remember it. Jacque also provided key input regarding the new ideas in this book as they were vetted one at a time in long discussions that delayed our sleep. She especially pushed me to look more closely at social context and privilege issues, which are critical to the arc of this work. Thank you, my love.
My doctoral graduate students of the last few years helped with discussions of nuances of ACT theory, including Brandon Sanford, Fred Chin, Cory Stanton, and Patrick Smith. Almost all of the forty-eight doctoral students of mine who already have their PhDs are in the backstory of specific parts of this book. I mentioned just a few of them in the text and endnotes but they are there anyway, in ways that only they and I will know specifically but that the reader will benefit from. Thank you, gang. (No, this does not mean you can tell people the secret behavioral handshake.)
I was helped in considering various titling options by Greg Stikeleather and Till Gross. Hank Robb and Inge Skeans kindly helped with proofing and calling out confusing sentences.
The section on lying in Chapter Four was originally written for a book that Guy Ritchie and I were considering writing, to go along with a film he was working on regarding the impact of the ego. The book project did not move forward (I hope someday the film will appear—it is a powerful piece), but it was Guy who first made me aware of the deep connection between the conceptualized self and lying, and the clarity of his vision made a lasting impact. I would like to thank him for his insights.
I would also like to acknowledge the clients who have changed ACT work with their very lives. Some of their stories are in this book, anonymized, but others are here indirectly because of the ways their pain and courage informed the work. For example, a substantial portion of the metaphors used to explain ACT came from clients, not me or any other professional. We will all be forgotten, but maybe, just maybe, your courage has put things into the culture that will reverberate for a long time. ’Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.
I want to give a deep bow of appreciation to the entire contextual behavioral science community. It is an amazing group of clinicians, teachers, basic researchers, philosophers, applied researchers, policy experts, evolutionists, behaviorists, cognitivists, prevention scientists, nurses, physicians, coaches, psychologists, and social workers (I could go on like that for a while) spread across the globe. I’ve told some of their individual stories in this book, but the reader should know that behind every name in every endnote relevant to ACT, RFT, and CBS is a committed human being. I know many of them, perhaps the majority of them, and they deeply care about working together to create a psychology more worthy of the challenge of the human condition. I have tried to give their ideas and aspirations voice in this book. I may have instigated this work, but I am only a co-founder or co-developer because by the time it came together in book form in 1999, it needed the able hands of Kirk Strosahl and Kelly Wilson, and to be refined for research and practice it needed hundreds of caring professionals and researchers. That continues to be even truer as it has entered the world community. We are all better human beings when we are groups, and my colleagues have lifted me up with their values, vision, and friendship every step of this journey.
As I will repeat in the very end of this book, life is a choice between love and fear. Those human beings who have loved me—friends, family, and colleagues—have helped me choose love. There is no better gift. Thank you.
Steven C. Hayes, Reno, Nevada