As a therapist who specializes in treating complex posttraumatic stress, I am often asked whether my practice is “depressing,” or whether it brings me down. It’s an obvious question: Along with the victories and the moments of fulfilling interpersonal connection, I am in vicarious contact with intensely difficult situations and stories. Also, practicing somatic psychotherapy develops one’s sense of empathy: the ability to sense what another person is feeling and to also feel it. So I often literally feel, in my own body, the sensations and emotions of the distress experienced by the people I work with in therapy. This is a good thing, as it is a fairly reliable indicator of what a person in therapy may be experiencing. Fortunately, my training affords me the capacity to feel others’ distress without getting stuck in it.

But no, my practice does not bring me down. I am deeply grateful for my training and my entry into this field. I can’t imagine doing anything else, because I believe increasing humans’ capacity for self-regulation is the most important thing in the world.

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That’s a big statement. I don’t make it lightly.

You might be wondering: why self-regulation, of all things? After all, most people don’t even think about self-regulation or how it relates to our individual or collective lives. The topic doesn’t even cross most people’s minds.

As I noted in a previous article, “The term self-regulation means ‘control [of oneself] by oneself.’ It refers to a system taking the needed steps to keep itself in balance.” Specifically, somatic therapy helps people learn to self-regulate the balance of the fight/flight response in their nervous system. This balance can (and should) change moment by moment, depending on the current situation and environmental demands upon the person. In other words, it’s a dynamic balance—and it has to be accurate or there will be problems!

According to Stephen Porges, we have four basic states (like “gears”) in our autonomic nervous systems. Our thoughts and behaviors at any moment are hugely influenced by the relative proportions of each. These are physiological states in the autonomic nervous system. They are:

1. Social engagement. This state is controlled by the ventral vagal (10th cranial) nerve. In social engagement, a person remains calm. They are truly available to be present with others. They can experience empathy. They are able to hold good boundaries, cooperate with others, and maintain a sense of humor. The key concepts here are calm, flexibility, and empathy. This state is vitally important; it forms the foundation of good self-regulation and, generally speaking, should be the most predominant “gear” in daily life. However, it’s often overlooked, as the public doesn’t tend to have much education about it.
2. Fight. Usually experienced as anger, irritability, or rage, this state is controlled by the sympathetic nervous system (SNS). It comes online when the person’s midbrain structures perceive a threat. The more predominantly the person is in a fight response, the more the prefrontal cortex goes offline and the less the person is able to experience calm or empathy.
3. Flight is usually experienced as fear, anxiety, or restlessness. Also controlled by the SNS, the flight state includes the same loss of cortical function as with fight.
4. And then there is freeze, which is usually experienced as passivity, low energy, amotivation, dullness, foggy-headedness, and reduced capacity for cognition and emotion (other than fear). This state is also mediated by the vagus nerve—but an older, more primitive portion of it, the dorsal vagal system. Basically, freeze is a death preparation state, and it shows up when the body “thinks” social engagement, fight, and flight would be ineffective.

As Peter Levine writes, previous traumatically stressful events that have not been fully resolved in the nervous system will disrupt a person’s self-regulation, biasing their response to present-day events. Specifically, unresolved trauma causes the person to respond with excessive fight, flight, and/or freeze response relative to the current situation.

Self-regulation supports cooperation and healthy group norms. I wish we could wipe out 25% of our fast-food restaurants and liquor stores, replacing each of them with a free somatic therapy clinic.

Here is a thought exercise to illustrate the vital importance of self-regulation and how it impacts just about every situation across our human lives—on small and large scales. Imagine each of the following common scenarios. Then, imagine how each scenario could be different if at least one person involved was able to maintain calm social engagement.

• Bobby is growing up in an impoverished neighborhood. One of his parents is absent and the other is stressed, working two low-wage jobs in order to pay the rent. In his family and in his immediate community, there is no one consistently available who creates a sense of calm and safety. Bobby’s nervous system never learns how to drop out of threat response and into relaxed social engagement. As he grows up, this lack of internal safety and stability has an impact on every interaction and decision he makes.
• On the freeway, one driver doesn’t see another in time and nearly causes a collision—not at all on purpose. The other driver is angry and begins to escalate. The at-fault driver becomes upset by this.
• Two next-door neighbors don’t get along well. One decides to start barbecuing his dinner. The other is allergic to smoke; she yells at him to stop, or else she’s going to get her cousin to beat him up. The first neighbor pulls out a knife and waves it at her.
• A country is faced with a major decision: whether to stop manufacturing a product that has a large negative impact on the environment (including animals and people). Some lobbyists profit majorly from the manufacture and sale of this product. They are competing for economic rankings for their shareholders, so they are focused on increasing financial profit and do not show empathy to those severely affected.
• Two cultures (or one culture and one subculture) have hated each other for generations. The insults and the fighting have gone on for so long that no one remembers the original transgressions. The topic is charged with emotion and exaggeration. Children in each culture are raised to hate (or at least dislike and avoid) the other culture. Eight-year-old Amanda secretly feels curious about the other people and would like to get to know some of them. She doesn’t talk with anyone else about this, because doing so could get her labeled a traitor and ejected from the very family and community she needs in order to survive and grow up. This collectively stuck survival charge isn’t usually in the foreground, but it permeates the background of her daily life.

Each of the above scenarios illustrates the ripple effect of dysregulation and how it lies at the core of most human problems. There are many, many other examples. Imagined the other way—that is, with the influence of a self-regulated person or people—these scenarios can also illustrate the powerful positive impact of self-regulation: it has a strong tendency to stop conflict and exploitation (due to the presence of empathy). Self-regulation supports cooperation and healthy group norms. I wish we could wipe out 25% of our fast-food restaurants and liquor stores, replacing each of them with a free somatic therapy clinic.

And the thing is, we could—if only there were enough aware, self-regulated people to make it happen.

Until then, I’ll hold off on my occasional daydreams of being a barista, or a nature guide in a sustainability program. Instead, my colleagues and I continue to support self-regulation, one nervous system at a time.

References:

1. Porges, S. W. (2001). The polyvagal theory: Phylogenetic substrates of a social nervous system. International Journal of Psychophysiology, 42:123–146.
2. Porges, S. W. (2003). Social engagement and attachment: A phylogenetic perspective. Roots of Mental Illness in Children, Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 1008:31–47.

I spent a lot of my early career writing and leading a workshop on the topic of fear. When I asked myself, early on, “What is my biggest obstacle to overcome in terms of speaking publicly to build my practice?” I noticed that fear would appear, out from the shadows. I discovered I was living in a fearful state of mind and that I was particularly afraid that I would be exposed as “not knowing.” A fraud.

In light of the fear and related emotions many are feeling right now with regard to the 2016 presidential election, recent acts of terrorism, increased hate crimes, and police violence, to name just a few concerns, I wanted to revisit that topic of fear.

I want to talk about how and why a fearful state of mind can leave people susceptible to those who fan the flames of fear to get money, their vote, and so on, and how individuals can reduce the fear they experience in order to reduce stress and protect themselves from manipulation.

The fear I address here is not the type experienced in response to an immediate and present threat. Rather, I address a persistent fearful state of mind that can leave us vulnerable to harmful influence and stress, a state of mind where fear exists constantly, unconsciously, as we scour the news vigilantly for threats and in all aspects of daily life.

The Purpose and Misuse of Fear

All humans live with some form of fear. It is key to survival. Our brains are hardwired to react physiologically to danger, a remnant from days when humans were often face-to-face with large, furry predators wanting to eat them.

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When we feel afraid, a part of our brain flips a switch and goes into fight, flight, or freeze mode. We either fight, freeze, or flee physically and/or emotionally from what we perceive is threatening us. During this process, our cognitive capacities—our ability to think rationally and analyze situations—becomes compromised and can even shut off completely.

When we live with a fearful state of mind, this fight, flight, or freeze mode runs like background music—on low, all the time. When this is the case, our minds may incorrectly perceive the extent of any particular threat, leaving us vulnerable to manipulation, such as false promises of reassurance or solutions.

Because fear leaves the mind vulnerable, it can be—and often is—used as a tool for manipulation and profit. A fearful brain may be more likely to exaggerate a potential threat and cause us to lose our ability to think constructively or take appropriate action.

Here are a few extreme examples of how fear might be profited from:

1. A global rise in “populist” support for anti-immigrant/foreigner, nationalistic, negative, and rage-filled sentiment. This is fueled in part by deep fears of perceived dislocation, alienation, and diminished economic opportunity as well as political representation due to demographic changes and economic challenges.
2. A fierce battle over guns despite the number of gun-related deaths in the United States relative to other first-world countries. This is fueled on both sides by fears of a lack of safety, lack of security, and powerlessness.
3. The rise of “radicalism” as a global threat feeds on fear. When coupled with violence, terrorism and radicalism use fear as a weapon, hoping to incite non-believers into a fear-driven battle of good versus evil.
4. Fear is used not only as a weapon but as a way to profit, as when media sources focus on fear-inducing events partially, if not primarily, because these stories draw the most attention and money.
5. Fear can be used as a defense for bad behavior, as is discussed in a recent New Yorker article on police shootings of unarmed, innocent people of color.

Engaging with Your Fear

A fearful state of mind creates and feeds off extreme responses (inaction and overreaction), which are byproducts of what happens in the brain during a fight, flight, or freeze response.

Because fear leaves the mind vulnerable, it can be—and often is—used as a tool for manipulation and profit. A fearful brain may be more likely to exaggerate a potential threat and cause us to lose our ability to think constructively or take appropriate action. Working with a fearful state of mind, then, requires an ongoing, active, reality-based engagement with these thoughts and feelings.

Let’s return to the fearful state of mind I mentioned earlier. To resolve this, I figured, I would first need to get to know my fear so that it would go away. Not so easy! Fear is slippery. Fear is also a good teacher: fear taught me “knowing” it would not make it go away. I needed, instead, to learn to work with my fear, to maintain an ongoing relationship with it.

I want to empower you to learn to engage and work with your fear as I have learned to do with mine.

The following series of steps can help you shift from a fearful state of mind one more grounded in reality:

3. Recognize your fear. Building awareness of the mind is the foundation of any psychological change. In whatever way you feel comfortable, start to pay attention to the fearful thoughts. Where do you feel fear in your body? What are the particular thoughts associated with your fear? When in fear, do you tend to fight, freeze or flee emotionally? When you feel afraid, how do you typically respond? Do you look for reassurance? Check out? These are just a few ways you can start to get to know your fear.
4. Work with the fearful thoughts. Once you recognize the fear both physiologically and in its particular form (of thoughts), you can then begin to find ways to work with it. You may find one way that works best or use a combination of ways. Consider the following approaches:
   1. Counteracting thoughts: Taking your fearful thoughts, one by one, and counteracting them, with positive, calm, and relaxing thoughts,
   2. Distraction: Shifting what you are thinking about
   3. Breathing practice: Breathing from your belly, for example, can reduce fear.
5. A mindfulness/spiritual practice. If you are so inclined, a spiritual practice, or even simple mindfulness practice, can give you a sense of something greater than you and the things causing your fear. A daily practice is recommended. During this practice, you can also practice shifting your state of mind from a fearful mind-set to a more open one.
6. Connect with others. Avoiding isolation is key. A fearful state of mind flourishes in solitary moments because it can feed on itself. Fearful thoughts can spiral and worsen if there is no one else to help you envision a different reality. We are primarily social creatures, and our brains and bodies generally want contact with other human beings. Maintaining contact with others, especially in difficult times, can help settle the nervous system and reduce fear.

These suggestions can have a significant positive impact, but they do take practice. A well-entrenched fearful state of mind may require the help of a therapist. Therapy can offer a space to safely explore the root of the fears and provide a steady space to practice, over and over, shifting the mind from a fearful state to a more open state.

If you can learn to shift your state of mind, you may be more likely to find greater peace and calm within yourself, and you are also likely to develop renewed energy for more creative, pleasurable, and productive pursuits.

Reference:

Wallace-Wells, B. (2016, July 12). Police shootings, race, and the fear defense. The New Yorker. Retrieved from http://www.newyorker.com/news/benjamin-wallace-wells/police-shootings-race-and-the-fear-defense

Humans are complex creatures. We operate on many levels simultaneously, and not all of these levels are in our conscious awareness. Therein lies the potential for internal conflict, which can sometimes feel impossible to resolve. We may not even be clear on what is causing the internal conflict in the first place:

“Why do I get so angry?”

“Darn it, why can’t I sleep? I have to get up in four hours and I’m going to be exhausted!”

“Why can’t I stand up to her? I argue with her in my head all the time, yet when she’s actually there, I just can’t stick up for myself.”

“I know it’s dangerous to tailgate; why do I do it?”

“There I go, overreacting (or under-reacting) again!”

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These internal battles are difficult to fight. They can create a profound lack of trust in ourselves. Exasperated, we might shrug and say “it’s just my personality” or “it’s genetic; my father was just like that.” These statements create an air of inevitability, as though we’re just going to have to learn to live with this aspect of ourselves. I’ve noticed “genetics” is a favorite fallback for when we don’t understand the threat response cycle, or the formerly adaptive learning that now contributes to our self-created troubles.

Of course, every person is unique. We all have cultural, familial, genetic, and individual components of our characters and behaviors, as well as unique histories. In this article, we are looking at a major portion of the equation that is often overlooked: the underlying psychophysiological (mind-body) “engine” that drives these responses. If the cortex (our “thinking brain”) is the road map, then the autonomic nervous system is the engine. (Might I note few cars go to the mechanic for GPS problems!)

According to Dr. Stephen Porges, the human nervous system essentially has the following “gears” available to it:

• social engagement (includes interaction with others as well as being in peaceful, relaxed alone time)
• fight, flight (experienced as anger/fear)
• freeze

All of these gears are responses to the environment and are designed to help ensure our survival.

Unlike a car’s gears, these human “gears” aren’t mutually exclusive. We can be primarily in social engagement, but feel the beginnings of the fight response begin to stir within us. Or we may be mostly frozen and immobile, but feel anxiety (flight) creeping up.

If we are in a safe and generally supportive environment, the healthy, well-balanced nervous system is in social engagement most of the time. In other words, it’s not wasting precious life energy by revving up into anxiety or anger when there is nothing actually threatening at the moment.

If something does start to go wrong in the social environment, a well-balanced nervous system will go to that social engagement option first: it tries to solve problems via discussion or negotiation, not jumping right into fight or flight. It uses exactly as much fight/flight/freeze as the situation warrants, and no more. All four responses are freely available, and our automatic perception of safety/threat, called neuroception, makes a snap judgment about which one to go to.

However, our previous learning comes into play. Our system goes to what has worked in the past, and it avoids what hasn’t worked. So if you grew up with a very angry parent, when you encounter stress as an adult, you might:

• freeze, and that’s the only response available; or
• shift into too much anxiety or anger for the current situation

Your automatic, default response in any given situation depends on what your autonomic nervous system found most helpful in previous situations of high stress.

Implicit in this model is the fact the more we drop out of social engagement and into a threat response, the more our survival energy is running the show and the more our frontal cortex (reasoning, socialization) goes offline. This explains why, under stress, we can engage in behaviors we really disagree with later.

The freeze response is closely related to tonic immobility, a state in which the body becomes motionless (like a possum). It’s also related to dissociation (disconnecting from one or more aspects of our experience). When it becomes chronic, it is also closely related to depression.

Let’s take a moment to focus on the freeze response, which generally tends to be the least understood of all of our “gears.”

The freeze response is closely related to tonic immobility, a state in which the body becomes motionless (like a possum). It’s also related to dissociation (disconnecting from one or more aspects of our experience). When it becomes chronic, it is also closely related to depression. The freeze response comes up when the organism decides whatever is facing it is overwhelming, too much to cope with. Fight or flight won’t work. Therefore, it “decides” the best strategy is to hold still, be uninteresting, and see if the threat passes. Young children, who lack capacity for fighting or running away, are particularly prone to getting stuck in the freeze response.

In terms of self-regulation, the freeze response arises when the charge in the sympathetic nervous system climbs too high (fight/flight isn’t working!) and thus the parasympathetic activates at the same time, effectively buffering the high SNS charge. (For explanation of fight, flight, and freeze charges, please refer to my previous article.) People in freeze response look like they’re in a low-energy state, but it’s really a well-camouflaged high-energy state. It’s very costly to the body, especially when it sticks around longer than it needs to. And the nervous system can be slow to come out of this state.

None of these responses are a conscious choice. Many police officers, firefighters, and other first responders feel guilty when they freeze under stress, but it is neither their fault nor under their control. It’s been my consistent experience that these states can indeed be re-regulated, at least partially, so the autonomic nervous system adopts a healthier balance and more adaptive responses. This happens over time, with consistent work, and you have to be able to “speak reptile brain”—that is, know how to access and work with the unconscious part of the body-mind. I have generally not found it effective to work with these states via cognition alone, because cognition becomes unavailable under high-stress states. Somatically oriented psychotherapy, yoga, art therapy, and psychodrama are among the solutions many have found helpful when wrestling with the question of how to bridge the gaps within.

References:

1. Arnsten, A.F., Raskind, M.A., Taylor, F.B., and Connor, D.F. (2014). The Effects of Stress Exposure on Prefrontal Cortex: Translating Basic Research into Successful Treatments for Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. Neurobiology of Stress, Vol. 1, January 2015, p. 89-99. Retrieved from http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2352289514000101
2. Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory: Neurophysiological Foundations of Emotions, Attachment, Communication, and Self-Regulation. New York, NY: W.W. Norton and Company.