Up and Down - A Functioning System

We’re constantly responding to the world around us. A siren sounds in the distance looming ever closer. What do we do? We turn toward the sound. This is an orienting response that helps us tune in for potential threat.

A snowboard approaches from behind spilling speed with a tell-tale sound of “skitch.” A ski steers further from the sound predicting the potential for collision. A behavior engages following a quick orienting process designed to promote safety.

We navigate the potential for threat, real threat and imagined threat in a similar process each time. Much of it is automatic, some of it is explicit, and some of it happens even when we want to choose a different response. This is one of the primary things we focus on in somatics: navigating the threat response to its completion.

How do our bodies respond to threat? I’m going to give you a personal account on what it’s like to move through orienting, responding and discharge to help illustrate what happens and how it can impact our mental or emotional state.

High Gear

One thing you should know about me is that I moonlight as a ski instructor. Not an uncommon thing in these parts and potentially one of the most annoying things about me, but it’s important for the story.

As a part of my ski instructor identity, I engage in a lot of training to continue to improve my skiing and teaching. On just another Thursday, I traveled to a training to whip my form into shape. Just a regular boring drive to Beaver Creek following a slight storm. Except it wasn’t.

This morning, the roads were far more icy than they had been all season. As I traveled westbound, a semi caught my eye. He was very likely to merge further ahead, so I drifted to the left most lane to keep distance and maintain my speed. All fine, but he was moving too fast. Something seemed unsteady in his driving, so I started to slow a little, giving him space to falter on the icy road. My instincts were correct. In seemingly slow motion, his trailer drifted back and forth without the ability to regain alignment. The semi jutted out ahead of my car spinning out and crashing only 20 or so feet from my stopped car. If I had not anticipated his instability, I very much would have been wiped clean from the road.

In that moment, my body went through the entire threat response cycle.

1 - Orient

I swept my eyes towards something that seemed amiss. Shaky tires. Higher speed than appropriate for conditions. A trailer teetering back and forth. In response, I slowed down and gave space.

As he crossed the centerline, I kept my eyes glued to the scene while holding my breath.

2 - Defensive Response

I could sense my body hardening at the sight of him crossing all three lanes. My legs and arms came rigid with my hands firmly clenching the steering wheel. My fight response was fully engaged. Not that I could fight the beast of a semi, but that’s what my nervous system erected in an instant.

3 - Freeze

This happened but briefly. As my muscles became rigid and my eyes locked in on the splayed truck, my breath evaporated and I lost contact with my senses. Since I wasn’t hit, I had no need to stay here for very long.

4 - Reorient

Noticing that the semi had come to a rest, a sense of safety started to re-emerge. I looked around to see how traffic organized following the collapse of the semi before me. All had stilled just as I had. Returning my attention to my physical body, I could feel the aliveness in my chest and legs. My whole system was shaking with adrenaline. With my mind enlivened by this work, I recognized this to be a fully appropriate act of discharge. I caught my breath, moved my hands open and closed, and proceeded on my journey for the day.

Aftermath

The event was over, but the journey wasn’t. I engaged in frenzied phone calls to 911 and loved ones to disclose my brush with fate. My body was fiery, filled with chaotic energy and my emotions were inflamed. There may not be a need to be borderline irritated with every person who dared speak to me, and yet there it was. My system was on and could not turn off.

I somehow made it to my training a touch on the late side. Though it was out of my control, I found myself flooded with feelings of shame, anxiety, and regret simply because I failed to show up as expected. To be fair, if I’m running on the late side these feelings show up in general, but this time it was coupled with coursing adrenaline. It felt far more serious and devastating than it should have.

Once again, I was struck with interest by my dramatic responses. I’d tell myself things are okay. That people are just peopling and there is no threat here. And yet, my physical body was in disagreement. I was short tempered with others including a thoughtful though oblivious lifty. When skiing, I couldn’t find the sweet spot on skis and struggled to incorporate instruction. I noticed more rigidity within my perspective while receiving feedback, and struggled to engage with others in a supportive fashion. To top it off, I managed to injure my foot going a little too hard in playful drill. Clearly, my mind and body were gravely disconnected. But I didn’t really catch how off I felt until I was standing in line at lunch.

The sweet chattering from some eight-year-old girls nearby sent my inner world into a rage. I can remember my eyes narrowing and heat growing as I listened to their happy chatter. I internally screamed for the happy glees to stop. That was the ‘aha’ moment. I shook my head dumbfounded by the absurdity of my emotional responses and tasked myself with finding my way back down. For the rest of lunch, I directed myself to slow all the way down, reset, and reconnect with myself and others. It meant eating. It meant talking. It meant taking care of my body. My hands stopped buzzing and grew calmer. I found laughter. And I started to find myself engaged with the stories of others. The rest of the day, I can happily say, I have no clear memory of simply because I was far more like myself.

And Down Again

Adrenaline can send us into a frenzy, and for a very good reason. It gets us out of danger. When we experience these surges though, we’re often in environments where we’re caged and unable to truly discharge to find perceived stillness or safety. Instead, we try to function as we normally do, except we do it jacked. As we try to come down, we’re likely to snap at others, experience increased anxiety, or maybe get plagued by a series of persistent unhelpful beliefs that seem impossible to shake. If we stay in something like this long enough, these experiences may not be as temporary as what is started out as. Which is why we need to map both the natural response to threat, and find the path to discharge.