There’s a problem I’ve had for as long as I’ve been seeing psychologists. I learn a tool, and it’s very helpful for analysing my problems, but when I’m in the midst of having said problems, I can’t access the tool. I think of it like this: I keep all my tools neatly organized on this level down here, but in the heat of the moment I am up here and I can’t even SEE my tools from up here. In the slightly more descriptive version: I store my tools in the workshop, or maybe the office. But when something happens, I’m not in the workshop or the office, I’m in the bedroom or the bathroom, maybe not even in the house at all, panicking because I know I have all these tools but I can’t let go of this thing I’m holding onto to go and fetch them or it will fall. Calamity!1 Maybe you want to suggest that I start wearing a toolbelt so the tools will be where they’re needed, obviously this would be ideal, but it doesn’t work like that. The tools are never where they’re needed.
Let’s unpack the analogy a little. First, disclaimer that it’s been a lot of years since my Brain & Behaviour course. I am nowhere near as confident in my discussion of parts of the brain as I was then.
So, the tools are clearly not really hammers and wrenches and screwdrivers and so on, nor are they pencils or pens or software for creating spreadsheets. They are all the little psychological tricks I’ve picked up over the years. They are the knowledge of cognitive distortions, or mindfulness, the ways of thinking of this and coping with that, the things that really do fix problems… if you can remember them. The house is my brain, with the office or maybe workshop being in the prefrontal cortex. Executive functioning. This is where I need to be in order to work through something. The other places I could be are more complicated, maybe varying according to the type of situation I’m facing and the anxiety it is causing, but basically it seems to boil down to brainstem and limbic system. The parts of your brain for keeping you alive and for feeling, respectively. Among other things. It’s all a lot more complicated than that, thus the analogy. I do love a good analogy.
What it amounts to is that the frantic shouting from the part of my brain that wants to make sure I come out of this disaster alive is drowning out the part of my brain that could say, “Hey. Is this really a disaster? I see that if you let go of that thing it could fall, but it won’t fall far and it’s not an important thing. Why don’t you put it down for now, and if you later decide you really want it stuck to the wall you can come back fully prepared.”
Because yes, sometimes it’s a disaster and you need a fight-flight-or-freeze response. But sometimes it’s just a neighbour saying hello on their way from the elevator to the mailbox. And honestly, I could just say hi back and they probably wouldn’t think I was weird. Or if they did they wouldn’t care particularly. And I can “rest and digest.”2
What I’m trying to find now is a way to leave the problem alone and go find my tools. I’m calling it duct tape. Something that does a good enough job until you can figure out the actual fix. In other words, something that takes away the urgency and immediacy long enough for me to figure out what kind of response is actually warranted. I’ve got some psych homework on that front but – you’re going to be shocked – I’m having a hard time remembering to do it.3 Well, there’s been a lot going on for a while.
Unfortunately, there often seems to be a lot going on, particularly when you have a disordered brain. Sometimes you just need to do your best to learn important new skills in less-than-ideal circumstances. Ideally, everything difficult would stop long enough for you to learn the skills, and then gradually be reintroduced, giving you a chance to adapt. But that seems unlikely, all things considered, so instead, ideally, what you learn makes things seem a little less busy and crowded. If it can’t do that, then, ideally, at least it doesn’t make things any worse.
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1 I almost left the original typo here because it for some reason was one of my favourite typos I’ve ever made: Calaminty!
2 The activation of the parasympathetic nervous system uses this rhyme and I think it’s a shame that it doesn’t get as much press as “fight or flight.”
3 Am I always… up here?
Wow. What a fascinating description of the way your brain works. I, too, love a good analogy, and it works really well.
I love the the analogy of being separated by distance from your toolbox. Having done many jobs where I stood hammering a nail with the handle of a screwdriver, while the right tool was JUST down a flight of stairs out of reach, resonates with me.
I haven’t seen “rest and digest” before but I am going to use it in conversation and practice. There were plenty of times in my past where, if I were able to recall it, I think it would have allowed me to take a pause instead of panicking or spiraling in response to a situation.
Thanks for the inspiration!