The Words We Use Matter: How Mind‑Body Research Can Shift Your Relationship With Work

We often treat our body as separate from our mind, especially when it comes to work.

We try to solve challenges with our head (planning, fixing, performing) while our body quietly carries the weight.

The tension in the shoulders. The breath that never quite reaches the belly. The subtle pressure in the chest that feels like “just another busy day.”

We know, on some level, that stress lives in the body. But we don’t always realize just how much of that stress begins in our thoughts.

Over time, I’ve learned to notice this more. I remember days when I felt physically fine, but by the afternoon I’d be holding my breath without realizing it. My jaw would tense. My back would ache. I was doing all the right things (working, managing, keeping up) but I didn’t realise I was also carrying a quiet belief:

“I should be doing more.”

That belief alone created a physical response. Even if I wasn’t consciously stressed, my body was living in that belief.

And recently, thanks to my amazing sister, I discovered research that helped me understand why. And it completely shifted how I see the mind-body connection—especially at work.

The Mind-Blowing Work of Ellen Langer

Dr. Ellen Langer is a social psychologist and Harvard professor, often called the “mother of mindfulness.” But her approach to mindfulness is unique. For her, it’s not about stillness or meditation—it’s about awareness. Noticing what’s happening, and more importantly, how we’re interpreting it.

Her work explores the powerful relationship between our thoughts and our bodies. Decades before “mind-body connection” became a wellness buzzword, Langer was proving it through research.

One of her most famous studies, the Counterclockwise Experiment, took place in 1979. Langer invited a group of men in their late 70s to spend a week in a retreat designed to replicate life in 1959. From the music to the furniture to the conversations, everything encouraged them to mentally step back in time—not to remember their youth, but to inhabit it. To speak and act as if it were 1959.

And by the end of the week, something incredible happened.

The men showed measurable improvements in strength, posture, flexibility, memory—even vision! Photographs taken before and after were shown to independent observers, who judged the men to look noticeably younger.

And the only thing that changed was how they perceived themselves. Mind-blowing.

In another study, Langer worked with hotel housekeepers. Half were told that their daily tasks (vacuuming, scrubbing, carrying loads) counted as physical exercise. The other half weren’t. After just a few weeks, the first group had lost weight, lowered their blood pressure, and improved several health markers.

They didn’t change what they did. They changed how they understood it.

What these studies (and many others) suggest is profound: our beliefs and expectations don’t just live in the mind. They shape how our bodies function.

This doesn’t mean we can magically cure all ailments through positive thinking. But it does mean our inner language, the quiet thoughts we repeat all day, matter more than we realize.

How This Shows Up at Work

At work, most of our stress doesn’t come from the task itself. It comes from how we interpret it.

From the stories we tell ourselves, often without noticing:

“I’m so behind.”
“I should already know this.”
“This doesn’t really count.”
“I’m not good at this.”

Each of these thoughts sends a signal to the body. They tighten the chest. Activate the nervous system. Create a subtle hum of urgency or shame, even when nothing objectively dangerous is happening.

But here’s where Langer’s work becomes especially meaningful: it shows us that we can shift our experience by shifting the frame.

What if we softened the story, just a little?

Instead of “I’m behind,” try: “I’m moving at my own pace.”
Instead of “This doesn’t even count,” try: “This is part of the process.”
And instead of “I don’t know this,” what if you added a timeline: “I don’t know this—for now.”

That last one is one of my favorites. Those two simple words (”for now”) can change everything. They open up space for growth, for learning, for self-trust. They remind us that we’re not stuck. That what feels hard today may feel easier tomorrow.

And to be clear: this isn’t about sugarcoating reality, or pretending everything’s fine. It’s not about blind positivity.

It’s about choosing a language that supports you. A way of speaking to yourself that helps your system settle, instead of spiral.

Because when the mind feels safer, the body follows.

A Simple Practice to Try

If you’re curious to explore this, here’s a small practice:

When you feel tension rise, take a pause.
Ask yourself gently: What am I saying to myself right now?
See if you can soften the phrase—or add a “for now.”
Take a breath. Notice what shifts in your body.

This won’t erase all stress. But it can begin to interrupt the pattern, to bring a little more choice into how you respond.

Over time, these small shifts can become a new habit—one that supports you instead of silently draining you.

In Closing

We often think we have to work harder, push more, or fix everything in the mind.

But sometimes the most powerful shift is in the words we whisper to ourselves when no one’s listening.

Because those words carry weight. They shape how we feel, how we move through the day, how we carry our work—and ourselves.

The next time you catch yourself in a thought that tightens your chest, try softening the sentence. Add a for now. Give yourself a little more room to breath.

You don’t have to do it perfectly. You just have to start.

And if you’d like support as you shift how you work, think, and feel—I’m here.

Love, Caro