We got a deluge of rain in this recent Nor’easter here in Massachusetts. In my haste to prepare for possible large wind gusts, I pulled the umbrella out of our glass table on the concrete deck in our backyard, as I often do…except this time, as I pulled it out, I was startled when the glass instantly shattered into literally thousands of pieces. What was once a large table that seated eight was now a pile of shards scattered far and wide. Here I was with dangerous glass all over, a torrential tropical storm coming any moment to carry the glass far and wide, and a packed day of patients.
I’ll be the first to admit I don’t always handle these unexpected curveballs as well as I’d like, though over time I’ve discovered some things that help.
While stress can often feel like one single overwhelming experience, one of the things I’ve found helpful over the years is to understand our stress response as having four interconnected responses: what’s happening in the body and what’s happening with our emotions, our thoughts, and our behaviors. Each influences the others, and each can be met with specific strategies to help dial down the brain’s alarm system.
Understanding Our Stress Response
First, it can be helpful to understand that our nervous system and brain are always working together below the surface of our awareness to assess for threat and safety. It’s a kind of threat detection system similar to the smoke alarms in our homes, and it works on a better-safe-than-sorry method. If a threat is detected, the alarm sounds automatically. It doesn’t matter whether it is a true life-threatening fire or just the toast burning in the toaster; the alarm doesn’t differentiate. Our brains respond similarly to “threats”—whether saber-tooth tigers or traffic jams or arguments or getting up to speak in front of a large audience. This makes sense from an evolutionary perspective to have an alarm that sounds quickly and indiscriminately. If it looks like a saber-tooth tiger, better fight or flee; don’t stick around to ponder if perhaps it’s just something else rustling in the grass.
The brain and autonomic nervous system are constantly trying to determine what resources are needed in any given moment to meet the current situation at hand. When threats or dangers are detected, the protection circuits of our sympathetic nervous system (designed to fight or flee) are activated. We get a jolt of energy to mobilize, or our system goes into shutdown if things feel too overwhelming (with the help of the dorsal branch of our vagus nerve). Alternatively, if safety is detected, resources can be allocated toward biological rest, growth, and recovery through the ventral vagal pathways of our parasympathetic nervous system. We feel calm, connected, and balanced.
So going back to the shattered table scenario, this mishap is immediately read as a threat, and my stress response becomes activated:
Physically, my heart starts pumping faster to get blood to my fighting muscles. Stress chemicals are released into my bloodstream to help me prepare to fight or flee.
Emotionally, I feel a shift from my nice, peaceful mood of enjoying the afternoon to frustration, anger, worry (how will I possibly clean all this up before the storm?), and overwhelm (I have meetings and patients and don’t have time to work and attend to this mess).
Mentally, my mind starts creating a narrative about what just happened, and it also starts projecting a narrative of what is to come (if only I hadn’t done this, I’m so stupid for being careless, I won’t be able to clean this all up and then people will get hurt…).
Behaviorally, I am making choices about how I react in the next moments (do I yell and swear, curl up in a ball, spring into action?).
My stress response can at times give me a helpful jolt of energy to mobilize, but if I am overtaken by stress, I lose access to all the inner resources that are available when my nervous system is in balance (e.g., perspective taking, problem-solving, clarity, self-compassion, creativity, curiosity, patience, etc.). The stress I’m feeling is understandable, but if the alarm continues to blast, I’m not able to respond most effectively.
Calming the Alarm and Bringing Balance Back Into the Nervous System
One way to think about responding to our built-in threat detection system is to intentionally introduce cues of safety to help calm the alarm. First, we notice that the alarm is sounding. Then, we choose strategies to soothe each of these four areas: our body, our emotions, our mental activity, and our behaviors.
Here are some examples of strategies to address each of these four dimensions of the stress response:
Calming the body: Take long, slow exhalations; feel your feet on the ground and notice your senses (what you can see, hear, touch, taste, or smell); take deep, long sighs; cross your arms across your chest and tap back and forth on each shoulder like a butterfly tapping its wings.
Tending to emotions: Mindfully notice and name what emotions are present; tell yourself “all my emotions are welcome here” and make space for them to be rather than try to push them away; put a hand on your heart and imagine sending care to any parts of you that are struggling; call to mind supportive people (or spiritual figures, pets, or even favorite places in nature) and let yourself feel immersed in their caring energy.
Loosening the grip of thoughts: Speak to yourself in the third person to get some distance (“I can see Beth is having a hard time right now, thinking she can’t handle this”); notice any charged thoughts you are having and add the phrase “I notice I’m having the thought that…” (e.g., instead of “I’m so stupid for being careless,” say to yourself, “I notice I’m having the thought that I’m so stupid for being careless). This helps to create a bit of space between you and your thoughts, to loosen their grip.
Choosing behaviors skillfully: Connect with your deepest values. Ask questions such as “What is most important to me about how I respond?” “How do I want to show up for others and myself?” “What inner qualities do I most want to harness right now?” “How can I take care of myself going into the next moments of the day?” “What would my wisest self do right now?”
We can learn, practice, and rehearse these strategies during calmer times so that when the curveballs come at us, we are familiar with what to do. As I look at the now empty table frame where the glass once was, I am reminded of how suddenly stressful situations can descend upon us, and how each becomes an opportunity to build resilience as we learn to quiet the alarm. And there’s always next year for that new table.
