Book Review: Good Inside

Selected quotations and general kvetching

Dr. Becky Kennedy is a true believer. She believes that emotional regulation and secure attachment are the most important things. I know this because she says so, over and over, during her book Good Inside. I also know this because she constantly tries to emotionally regulate me, the reader.

It’s a mark of impressive art, the marriage of form and content. Homestuck’s sprawling form matching its maddeningly intricate plot. Infinite Jest’s bottomless restlessness. Jamie Paige’s lyrics exploring artificiality as human and machine voices interweave. Good Inside fits right in.

It drove me crazy.

The Good (Inside)

First of all, game recognize game. I don’t like when Dr. Becky tries to manage my feelings (more on that later), and she has the craziest metaphors I have ever seen (more on that too), but her specific techniques are creative and sensible. I also like to think up games to play with my toddler to help in her development, and it’s clear that Dr. Becky is a master of the craft.

Some examples:

• A “fill up with mama” game, where if a kid seems like they aren’t getting enough attention their mom hugs them and asks how “filled up with mama” they are. It might start at just the toes, then the tummy, then the chest. The game ends with a little extra top off once they’re full.

• Saying “I won’t let you” rather than “please don’t” or “you can’t.” “I won’t let you throw blocks” really does seem like a better formulation, since it is descriptively accurate and easy for the child to understand.

• Physically throwing bad behaviors out the window in a silly way. Like “whoa, how’d that whininess get in the house? I bet other kids will need that. Yoink!” Then opening a window and physically throwing it out. “Anyway, sure, you can have a fresh pencil.” Rather than refusing a whiny request for a pencil or complaining about the bad behavior while also caving in.

None of these are one size fits all, and nothing beats careful observation and figuring out what works for your own kid. But I’m happy to think of millions of parents reading them, and getting their own creative juices flowing.

The Bad

Attachment theory is pretty good. In a nutshell, this is the idea that children evolutionarily need to keep their parents close by and on their team, and they build their models for future close relationship off the parental bond. So if you’re emotionally available and supportive, they aren’t unconsciously worried about being eaten by a tiger, and also will do a better job being married (or whatever) someday.

But also, I think attachment theory is oversold by its devotees. Lots of stuff is just genetic or whatever, and simple evolutionary arguments tend to feel more plausible than the messy reality. Dr. Becky is constantly using attachment theory as if it were a matter of objectively settled science, which grinds my gears. Don’t you know that the map isn’t the territory, Becky? Why can’t you be like my friends on LessWrong?

Also grinding my gears, was stuff like this:

You are not at fault for your intergenerational patterns. Quite the opposite - if you’re reading this book, that tells me you’re taking on the role of a cycle-breaker, the person who says that certain damaging patterns STOP with you. You are willing to take on the weight of the generations before you and change the direction for the generations to come. Wow. You are far from at fault - you are brave and bold and you love your kid more than anything. Being a cycle-breaker is an epic battle, and you are amazing for taking it on.

Becky is trying to manage my feelings and make sure I feel good/secure/at ease before helping me to change, just like she recommends we do for children.

Also, Becky is wrong about me. She’s eager to manage my feelings, but she makes claims that don’t resonate for me at all. I’m not a cycle breaker. My parents did great. I’d be perfectly happy to keep the cycle going, thank you very much. And in fact, something about a parenting book assuming you must think your parents sucked and had “certain damaging patterns” feels maximally bleak; if you’re so sure that arbitrary readers will think their parents messed up, surely the bar for not messing up is higher than reading this book, and maybe even infinitely high.

My frustration would be totally avoided with the smallest, gentlest hedge. “Maybe you’re feeling at fault for certain generational patterns, and like you can’t break free of the baggage you learned from your own parents. If so…” But no. Emotional management comes first, you see. Far before rigorous thought.

This prioritization does predictable things to my specific emotions. Mostly rage.

For instance, as a kid, this would have terrified me:

You’re worried about getting your blood drawn today. Exactly how long it will take and how much it will hurt, I don’t know. What I do know is that it will hurt, and then it will stop hurting at some point. I will be with you the whole time, and we’ll get through it together.

Mom. Dad. Bro. You know far more than this! I care a little that you’ll be there with me, that’s very nice. But I’d feel a lot more seen emotionally if you told me, say:

The needle will hurt a little bit going in, maybe like a 2 or 3 out of 10. Then it’ll feel a little weird for a minute or two, but not any longer. Once the needle is out it won’t hurt at all. The tape they put over your arm after can hurt a little getting torn out, but if we take it off under running water it doesn’t have to hurt at all.

In my opinion, this covers the “we’ll get through it together” because it’s actually collaborative. It’s just not true that parents have no idea how long a blood draw will hurt! Withholding that information really sucks!

Of course, Dr. Becky isn’t actually advising parents on how to handle blood draws, and hopefully nobody will take that specific example literally. But still. Come on! Pick an example where the literal interpretation isn’t horrifying! I would have, as a nervous kid, interpreted “it will stop hurting at some point” as “within days to weeks.” The straightforward facts also matter, including for kids! Maybe even especially for kids, who know far fewer facts than you or me.

The Silly

I’m ranting because the book is mostly sensible, and thus the stuff I hated made me feel like a weird overanalytical alien. I’m dysregulated. Someone needs to sit with me, quietly looking at the floor (but in the same room as me!!!) until I calm down. So let’s move on from my complaints, to the fun bits.

For entertainment value, nothing beats the metaphors.

Picture your child’s dysregulated feelings as a fire - this shouldn’t be hard, since these moments generally feel hot and explosive. There is no fire extinguisher for the fire of emotional dysregulation (after all, our emotions are core to who we are - we wouldn’t want to extinguish them), so our goal must just be to contain the fire.

So far so good, Dr. Becky. Where do we go from here?

How would you do this with an actual fire? Well, you’d want to make the room with the fire as small as possible; if you could, you’d “move” the fire from a more expansive area to a more confined one, close the door, and safely wait it out.

So, be a fire wizard who can relocate a housefire, use this power to put it in your closet, then just… figure it will sort itself out in there. Cool.

Or take this analogy for shyness; Dr. Becky claims this would be a good way of reacting to your adult partner at a cocktail party, if they want to stand near you for a little bit.

Something doesn’t feel great for you right now. I see that. That’s okay, no biggie. Stay with me until you’re ready to talk to people; you’ll know when that is.

Well, my hypothetical wife, now I’m not sure I’ll know when that is, because I am rethinking everything I thought I knew about adult communication. This response would multiply my self consciousness by one billion. The correct move, I think, would be a gentle hand squeeze, or, at most, “wanna get out of here?”

In addition to the metaphors/analogies, Dr. Becky also has some eyebrow-raising one liners.

Isn’t this what we all want when we’re out of control? Someone who will stay calm and take charge and help us feel safe again?

Becky.

I love science. I love evidence.

Becky, your saying this does not inspire the intended confidence.

In the heat of the moment, your child can say some nasty things […] Your child isn’t talking to you. Yes, your child is saying those words aloud and seems to be throwing them in your direction, but consider this:

Uh oh.

your child is actually talking to the overwhelming, terrifying, threatening feelings inside his body.

Okay fine, that one snuck in from last section, because it’s infuriating (to me) rather than silly. I’m an adult! I don’t need to be emotionally managed at the expense of the obvious, plain truth! If someone says “I hate you” to me, they aren’t secretly saying that to their own feeling. Their own feeling, in that moment, is hate. For me.

I’m reminded of my friend’s ex-wife, who whenever he disagreed with her said that she could see his true, astral self, which totally agreed and was sad that his shadow self was leading him astray.

And this is my deeper objection to the book, that I couldn’t escape even as I agreed with many, even most, of its object level prescriptions and claims. It feels mean somehow to have this deep objection, like Dr. Becky is being so kind and helpful and trying so hard to make me feel at ease, and I ought to just agree. Nevertheless:

Putting emotional security first is a decent guidepost, but a terrifying dogma. I want my kids to be strong enough not to have to put their feelings first all the time. Feel them, sure, don’t just stuff ‘em down. But I don’t want my kids to grow up into adults who hear “I hate you” and, to feel secure, deny that the hater was talking to them at all.

Coda

On a final point, I offer Dr. Becky my sympathies:

When I find myself in a “tell the truth” situation with my own kids, I often start with these words: “______ happened. You were right to notice that.”

I’m so sorry, Dr. Becky. You’re absolutely right. But we don’t speak that way in 2026.

Related posts: