We begin life swimming in a warm, wet womb – the archetype of safe havens. Just as our developing brains begin to appreciate the comfort and safety of our surroundings, Mom, in what must seem to us an inexplicably malevolent fit, forcibly ejects us from our sanctuary into a cold, bright, scary world. For the rest of our lives we struggle to recapture the feeling of safety so violently torn from us at birth.
Is it safe? We unconsciously ask ourselves that question at each stage of our development. My grumbling tummy troubles me; ah, that nipple does the trick. Pooping from this porcelain perch feels precarious; ah, Mommy’s “good boy” relaxes my plumbing. I’m a little scared to wander over there; ah, Daddy’s thumbs-up fills me with courage. Maybe this cold, bright world isn’t so scary after all.
But what if the nipple never comes? What if I’m continually chastised for pooping too slowly? What if Dad whacks my butt (or worse) each time I venture beyond the boundaries? What if no one likes me? What if I fail? Maybe I was right about this scary, unsafe world after all.
Perception is Not Reality
Life tests us all. While our unique challenges might differ in character and intensity, each of us must work – sometimes quite valiantly – to survive and thrive. Yet, our assessment of life’s difficulties doesn’t necessarily correlate with the reality of our circumstances. Life may “suck” for Melvin, while a life of similar circumstances may feel quite tolerable – even enjoyable – to Marvin. What makes Marvin so annoyingly optimistic?
Yes, Marvin might have received more hugs and smiles of encouragement when he was young, which would certainly smooth his psychological path toward a positive attitude. Still, is there no hope for the rest of us who were neglected or teased or abused? What about those of us who were (cue menacing music) bottle-fed? Is our negative attitude irreparable? Can we ever feel safe?
Good news: there’s hope for Melvin. That hope lies in the distinction between physical and psychological safety. Perception is not reality. Physical safety depends on circumstance, over which we have relatively little control. Psychological safety depends on thought, over which we can develop control to a remarkable degree.
Fight, Flee, Freeze, or Binge
Most of us learned in school about our reflexive reactions to perceived threats: we fight, we flee, or we freeze, and our autonomic nervous system chooses our stratagem before our conscious mind ever kick in. Once the threat has passed, that autonomic system (again, without the need for any intellectual intervention) puts on the breaks by slowing our heart rate, lowering our blood pressure, and unclenching our anus.
Our fear response is a “dumb” response, one that occurs quickly and without the benefit of any cognitive consideration. That’s great for a bear attack. But, handling the prolonged stresses of our modern, overcrowded, hyper-complicated, COVID-riddled world requires a more conscious, discerning approach. Problem is, our cognitive system is also pretty dumb – our neocortex is still pretty neo. Consequently, we’ve developed two types of reflexive fear responses: one based on circumstances, which still tends to protect us, and one based on irrational, Ego-prompted thoughts, which has become quite maladaptive.
All fear prompts thoughtless action. In the case of circumstantial fear, like the fear prompted by a charging mammoth, such thoughtless action can save our life. Not so with maladaptive fear – the kind of fear triggered by thoughts. Maladaptive fear clogs arteries and fills church pews; it supports police recruitment and feeds locksmiths; it disrupts our sleep and stains our shirts. Maladaptive fear underlies virtually every negative emotion we experience, including regret, worry, anger, anxiety, resentment, jealousy, depression, loneliness, embarrassment, and shame. The persistent, percolating fear prompted by thoughts and stoked by Ego creates emotional pressure that requires discharge. That discharge is nearly always unhealthful.
Ego’s Distraction Traps
When confronted by thought-based threats, Ego incites us to prolong or misapply our instinctive fear responses: our desire to fight becomes aggression; our urge to flee becomes anxiety; and our impulse to hide becomes shame. Your boss knocks sharply and opens your office door before you can respond. The intrusion startles you and triggers your flight response. Without Ego, your rational mind would quickly correct your misperception, transmuting predator to employer, and you might inquire calmly about your next assignment. Unfortunately, Ego grabs hold, turning your reflexive desire for escape into anxiety, which moistens your skin, quavers your voice, and produces defensive twitching, all of which feed your boss’s authoritative Ego trip, escalating an otherwise benign encounter into an emotional trial.
You walk toward your train, sipping your latte and checking your phone for e-mails. Another commuter bumps you, knocking your cell to the ground and upending your coffee. Neither was paying attention; both share blame for the collision. Do you help each other gather your respective belongings and part amicably? Or do you both rail about the other’s carelessness and then simmer angrily for the next hour? The initial impact is unexpected and jarring, and might appropriately trigger a raised arm or even a defensive push. Absent Ego’s meddling, however, civility would return quickly, diffusing a fruitless face-off. But Ego often flares with protective outrage and transmutes your urge to fight into aggression, prolonging the episode to serve its maladaptive ends.
You touch up your lipstick one more time, struggling to locate a single attractive feature in the mirror. He wouldn’t have asked you out if he thought you were repulsive, right? The light was bad, though. And he was probably drunk. Hell, he was probably just making fun of you. You realize that you have left the bathroom and are now mulling your date fears in front of an open refrigerator. A scoop of yogurt won’t hurt … maybe some peanut butter … and those cookies are almost gone anyway. Before you leave, you carefully hide the empty peanut butter jar and cookie bag deep in the trashcan. After driving past the restaurant three times searching for the perfect parking space, you accept divine providence, drive through Fatty McGee’s for some chicken chunks and fries, and ponder the only conundrum that really matters: Fallon or Kimmel. Hiding in your bedroom with your drugs of choice affords quick relief from the sharp pain of maladaptive fear, only to later add the sharper pain of shame. Maybe just one more candy bar…
Try this. Deliberation debilitates maladaptive fear. Ego plies its work most effectively below consciousness, where habits and attitudes are formed. Remember, then, to consciously reflect – to pause, breathe, and reflect – whenever you realize that you might be acting based on an emotional trigger. Practice catching your awareness just before you indulge a fear and reflect on real consequences. What is the worst possible outcome? Unless your answer is death or torture (and even death may not qualify unless accompanied by prolonged pain), then your fear is as unfounded as your rationalization.
The ability to pause and mindfully attend to your emotional reactions is not easy. It’s a skill that requires effort and practice. As with any new skill, it’s best to start very small. So, here’s your challenge: later today (or tomorrow if it’s already late), pause in the midst of an action, any action, and just become aware of your present circumstances. For example, as you brush your teeth, pause and say to yourself, “I’m brushing my teeth.” Then, while still paused, become aware of how the brush feels in your hand, how the toothpaste feels in your mouth, and, if you can remember it, the thought you were thinking just before you paused. If you were thinking about things you have to do later, consciously let that thought go and grip your toothbrush a bit tighter. If you were thinking about something negative – a regret or a worry – consciously let that thought go and spit some of that toothpaste out. Then, once you have a solid sense of having paused and embraced your moment, continue your activity.
You only have to do that once. Then, at the end of the day, write a few words about your experience in a journal or on a note – just to resurrect the memory of having experienced a pause. That’s it! Okay, that’s not completely it. Your task after that will be to practice that pause once a day for a week, then twice a day, then three times. Once you hit three pauses in a day, you’ve established a serious mindfulness practice that I guarantee will positively impact your Egoic reactions to maladaptive thought-fears.
Please let me know if this article was at all interesting or helpful by going to the Contact page and sending me an email. Also, if you’d like some information about mindfulness meditation, download my free Late Bloomer Tip Sheet called Starting a Meditation Practice.
Cheers, everyone!
— Geoffrey