Do you want a safer body and quieter mind?
Regulation, resilience and Polyvagal Theory.
Let nature hold you. Let the sun shine upon your face.
I just finished reading Klara and the Sun by Nobel Laureate Kazuo Ishiguro.
This book is divine. Subjects covered include AI, dystopian society, chronic pollution, genetic editing, and—the Sun. The Sun who plays a central part in the story.
Klara is the main character, she happens to be an “artificial friend,” or AF. Without giving too much away if you haven’t already read it, the Sun is the energy source for AFs and Klara frequently narrates looking for the sun’s rays which are sometimes missing for days on end due terrible pollution. I got the sense she yearns for the Sun despite being a nonsentient being, and really appreciates it as well. This book is about the human heart and all its complexity. It’s about love.
Later on, the Sun becomes the hero of the story. I’ll leave it at that. Go read it.
I genuinely care about the emotional well-being of others. When I engage within my diverse set of relationships, the thing I notice the most is the emotional component of someone’s being. It’s like radar detection, I just pick up on it. I put my snorkel mask on and dip below the surface of the conversation to feel what’s underneath the words.
It’s a skill that’s highly useful while practicing psychotherapy and coaching.
It’s a strength, especially when paired with strong energetic boundaries.
Cue the question we cardigan wearing therapists get asked a lot—
Is it draining to listen to people’s inner worlds, their “problems” and emotions?
I put problems in parentheses because posing the question this way reflects the collective split from our emotionality as human beings. Society really has a hard time with feelings.
In case no one has told you this today: You are not a problem to solve nor a problem to fix.
Our sentience is the very thing that makes us such unique creatures. It is what separates us from the emerging and pervasive world of artificial intelligence.
It’s still hard to feel the feelings, too. Especially when they’re shoved down and cut off.
My journey of practicing psychotherapy has led me to periods of time when it was in fact draining. These times were also in different environments than the one I’m in now, in the comfort of my own home. Working in a hectic hospital with so much stress and trauma was draining over time. Working in an elementary school was also an experience where I learned that my nervous system is just too sensitive to be around so much sensory stimulation and noise.
There have been times when the combined pressures of caregiving at home and caregiving at work burnt me out completely. I did not honor my own limitations and pushed my body too far. I depleted my energy, I had insomnia, I was tearful every day and felt like somebody was holding my face up to a hot plate, giving me a sizzle every now and again before backing off only to then sizzle me again.
It’s a rite of passage to reach bottom and to bottom-out with the survival strategies you’ve relied on until that point. We’re creatures of habit. Autonomic habits.
“We establish physiological and behavioral set points or default patterns that, once established, the brain and nervous system strive to maintain.” — Authors McCraty & & Zayas from academic journal Frontiers in Psychology
I took this quote from Deb Dana’s book Polyvagal Exercises for Safety and Connection. In it she lays out the principles of this somatic approach to therapy, “based on the knowledge that the autonomic nervous system is shaped by early experience and reshaped with ongoing experience, that habitual response patterns can be interrupted, and that new patterns can be created.” In a nutshell.
Just as we humans split off from our emotions, we too split off from our animal nature, simply designed to assess safety and threat so that we ensure survival. Even though society has evolved and changed, our nervous system design is rather concrete.
Deb Dana writes, “When autonomic patterns begin to change, your clients find themselves in unfamiliar experience of being between—not held in old patterns and not yet predictably in new ones. They may feel untethered, ungrounded, unsure of how to engage with others or how to move through daily living experiences. Attending to the beginnings of change and wiring in new neural expectations is an essential part of the integration process.”
In 2017 when I hit my “bottom”, I entered into a period of time of really being present with the actual state of my nervous system. It was fried from chronic stress hormones, sleep deprivation and emotional dysregulation.
When I surrendered to feeling the reality of my state of being, it was really scary.
I felt untethered, on shaky ground, fearful about my health and unsure about how to operate with this new sense of radical honesty and vulnerability.
An old version was dying, a new version was birthing. To hang out in the in-between felt like annihilation and yet it also felt correct. Like I was at the precipice of transformation.
I did not get through this alone. I had a lot of support. I held onto my inner self knowing that this falling apart was the beginning of a remembering. I had to hold faith and stay true to my intuition, no matter how fearful I made those around me who wanted to support me but didn’t get the complexity of my welcoming of this transformation process.
I went through a period of discovering new resources, using existing resources and practicing novel actions in small steps. Just as Deb Dana described.
She continues in the book, “resilience emerges when, either in perception or reality, there are more resources than stressors…and when clients can accurately detect and effectively respond to cues of safety and danger.”
What she says here rings true, although I could not tell you the moment when I really understood how to accurately detect and effectively respond to cues of safety and danger. This bit is ongoing. It does begin though, with the turning towards our animal nature. Turning towards our nervous system to guide our understanding of how we feel, really.
The word I teach the most with clients is capacity.
What is your current capacity level, in your body, to meet these stressors?
You can push and push and push the limits and find the bounds of your system, but eventually, the body says no. No more.
What do you do then?
The choice to honor your system, is the choice to honor your body, is the choice to honor your energy, is the choice to honor your humanity.
This takes practice, involves deconditioning from societal expectations and narratives around what you “should” be capable of doing. It requires inner grit to resist the forces that want to keep your system at its current set point.
But all growth and change comes when we step into the abyss, away from our habitual set points, and navigate the chaotic waters of uncertainty towards a new horizon.
At that horizon, you may be lucky enough to feel the Sun shine it’s rays on you. The Sun can be a resource when things fall apart, and each and every day.
If you’re feeling confused, in uncharted territory, overwhelmed and fearful, you’re on point with the current state of our world.
Remember the enormous power of nature as an emotional regulator. When you walk in nature, just maybe you can sync your heartbeat with the heartbeat of the Earth.
Walk without purpose, observe and immerse yourself in the ever-shifting landscape of the land you live on. Each day, notice something different, a new scent, a new color, a new corner.
Walks give the brain a break from the chronic onslaught of analyzing and thinking and planning. As you put each foot down, right foot then left, you stimulate both sides of your body and brain. You are filled with more oxygen, space is created in the mind.
Daily walks are fantastic for mental health and emotional well-being. Charge your batteries with the light of the sun, even if you’re wrapped up in layers and it’s cold outside.
Maybe you’ll catch the rising or setting of the Sun.
How glorious she is. How bright and vital.
Klara searched for the rays of the Sun, moving between tall buildings forming angular lines and shadows. When she caught them she was filled with her energy source, and was able to keep living.
On a recent walk, I reached the crest of a road and just stopped, put my hands on my heart and began to sway.
I let my gaze scan the horizon, noticing the variations of colors. Savoring the oranges and reds and yellows and greens. Autumnal colors rock.
I did this for about ten minutes. I took note that my body was safe there. I felt my mind quiet and the sensation of the rhythm of my breath.
For those ten minutes I was free and at peace, filled with awe and emotionally regulated!
This doesn’t have to be ten minutes. It could be one minute and an entire universe, savoring your surroundings and breathing the safe and peaceful experience into your brain to wire new, neural pathways. Again and again we can practice that and capitalize on the plasticity of our brains. We can hardwire positive experiences
It just takes you noticing, savoring and breathing it into you.
Try it.
May the Sun’s rays shine on you.
May you feel the Sun’s warmth.
May you recognize small moments of awe.
May you make small shifts each day.
Take care and share (this post with your friends).
Britta