Practising What I Preach: CBT, Cheddar and French Checkouts

Aussie psychologists are brought up on Cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) as an intervention. If you learn nothing else from the fairly gruelling six years it takes to get registered, you at least come out knowing what CBT is and how to use it.

The premise is simple: thoughts affect feelings, which affect behaviour. So, change the thought and you should notice a shift in how you feel and act. It’s not for everyone, but in many cases it’s genuinely helpful — and I’ve used it successfully with clients many, many times.

What I didn’t expect is that, since being in France, I seem to be subconsciously doing CBT on myself… a lot.

There have been so many moments that are confronting, confusing, or just mildly irritating, and I’ve found myself actively reaching for a “better feeling thought” more often than I’d care to admit.

So in this update, I thought I’d share a few of those moments — and how I’ve tried (with mixed success) to talk myself out of being annoyed by them.

Spoiler: there are one or two where I completely failed.

The supermarket (clearly my natural habitat…)

I realised when I started jotting notes for this post that an alarming number of these moments happen in and around the supermarket.

For context, I am a highly efficient shopper. In Australia, I use scan-and-go. I am in and out of the shop like a whirlwind. Nothing irritates me more than when they decide to reorganise the store and I can’t find things in their usual place.

So imagine, for someone like me, walking into a supermarket where:

• you don’t know where anything is

• you don’t know what anything is called

• and in many cases, you don’t know what it looks like

I’m on the back foot before I’ve even started.

Better feeling thought:“I’m not in a hurry. I have time to explore and figure this out.”

It works… for a while.

Once I get past the initial ‘where is anything’ phase, I’m then confronted with a second layer of confusion: some of the things I’m looking for don’t seem to exist – or at least not in any form that I recognise. Here are a few examples:

The mystery of the missing conditioner

Hair conditioner in large bottles does not appear to be a thing here. There are only tiny options which run out pretty quickly.

After some research, I discovered that according to one school of thought, apparently you’re not supposed to use large amounts of conditioner— it’s bad for the environment. So it’s not sold in large bottles in France.

Right.

Better feeling thought:“I will use less conditioner and help the planet.”

Spray oil (or lack thereof)

Spray oil also doesn’t seem to exist – you know – the stuff you slather all over the barbeque after you’ve cleaned it – and the stuff I lazily use to grease cake tins etc.

A quick search on why spray oil isn’t available in France yielded comments like:

• “because we don’t eat chemicals”

• “because we know how to put oil in a pan”

Brutal.

I looked up what is in the canola oil spray that I usually use….definitely some chemicals.

Better feeling thought:“Maybe they have a point. I’ll get a pump spray and fill it with  olive oil — this has actually done me a favour.”

The cheddar situation

This one I feel slightly ashamed about.

I am surrounded by one of the most extraordinary selections of cheese in the world… and yet, I really miss strong cheddar.

I use it in cooking all the time and I haven’t found any here. My craving remains.

Better feeling thought (ongoing):

“There must be a way to find it. There has to be.”

The search continues.

The self-checkout… rules

Still in the supermarket.

There is a self-checkout section— but it’s only for baskets. Fair enough.

Except:

• if you have homewares → not allowed

• if you have clothing → not allowed

• if you have alcohol → also not allowed

So if you pop in for a quick bottle of wine, you are immediately promoted to the main queue, which moves about as fast as a broken down car being pushed uphill with the handbrake still on.

Better feeling thought:“Prepare in advance. If I’m buying restricted items, I need to allow time… or don’t buy them.”

The cheque situation

In France, you can still pay for groceries in the supermarket with a cheque.

I’m sorry… what?

So picture this:

You’re already in the slow-moving queue because you made the bold decision to buy a bottle of wine.

The person in front of you:

• carefully packs their bags with the precision of a neurosurgeon

• then begins the archaeological dig in their handbag for the cheque book

• then the pen

• then the glasses

• then the ID

All while time… slows… to a standstill.

And for those of you who know me — I do not have a poker face.

Better feeling thought:

I have tried.

I have genuinely tried.

I have failed.

Driving

Driving on the right-hand side is actually not too bad.

Roundabouts, however — particularly large French ones — feel chaotic at first.

I have a few coping strategies for this one:

1. I tell myself that if everyone else is chaotic, I won’t look out of place being slightly chaotic myself.

2. I remind myself of learning to drive around Hammersmith Broadway in London as a teenager before it had traffic lights. I used to literally close my eyes as I gripped onto the steering wheel and accelerated. And yet… I’m still here to tell the tale.

3. There are positives about the driving in France— higher speed limits on the freeway, and much better lane discipline (only on the freeway).

I did accidentally overtake a truck on the wrong side a few days ago. The driver was apoplectic with rage. That was everso slightly embarrassing as he shook his fist and honked his horn.

Lesson learned.

Business hours (a cultural reset)

Many businesses here close for 2+ hours at lunchtime. Some even longer.

The local shop in my village closes for four hours. That's a pretty long lunch!

And everything — including supermarkets — is closed all day on Sunday.

This requires… planning.

You can’t just “nip out quickly” to do something at lunchtime.  And Sunday meals require forethought.

Better feeling thought:

This is cultural.

In France:

• meals are prioritised over work

• Sunday is protected as a rest and family day

There is something quite admirable about that.

It does make me reflect on whether we could be a little better at holding those boundaries ourselves.

Closing thought

While I came to France hoping to practise psychology, I didn’t expect to be quietly practising CBT on myself in supermarket aisles, checkout queues, and roundabouts.

Some days I nail it.

Some days… less so.

But overall, it’s a useful reminder that:

You don’t always get to control the situation —but you can choose the thought you bring to it.