If / Then.
She was running in a straight train of emotion, not thought. Her words, driven by fear and modulated by little, were running away from her logical brain; a stream of subconscious pain and sadness overflowing her ability to look at the situation in a way that would serve her.
Trauma driving her thoughts, terror defining her time. She spoke of all that she saw.
And it was straight linear pain.
Seeking a way to help her, I began with teaching her the very basics of logic. A psychological algebra that forms the basis of the way we interact with the temporal nature of an uncontrollable universe.
As she began to break down her fears into statements that we could work with, a pattern emerged that even she, deep in her fears and despair, could understand.
If {event} then {only possible outcome}, and I’ll feel {emotion that terrifies her}.
The system that I taught her is one that allows us to see different outcomes, if only we can practice the emotional balance needed to keep the possibilities in our mind.
At each statement, “If”, “Then” and “I’ll feel”, there are many different potential outcomes, many choices that we might make, but fear clouds our mind to its eye of reason, and we see only one possible outcome, a singular timeline leading to all that we are afraid of.
It’s like a train that hurtles towards the impact, unable to vary from the track it finds itself on.
But the reason we use the word consciousness is because that very thing, our consciousness, our awareness that we can change, allows us to modify our direction, our choice of tracks, if we try hard enough.
It’s not easy, especially if those thoughts are long practiced, or if our terror is so great, but over time, with patience and practice, we can learn to drive our thoughts down different paths.
But it takes a lot of effort.
And right now, my friend needed something to help her in the moment, as well as a mechanism to help her in the future. As I began to carefully change her emotional state, I used language as a scalpel, tone as a swab, kindness as stitches, and wisdom as light.
Talking her down from her terrified state took a while, but by the end of the conversation, she could see a small light at the end of her very dark tunnel.
But it’s a long way off, and there are many steps to tread in between.
Because like the two areas of our brain that think and feel, so there is a need for strategies and skills that both help in the moment, and heal in the long term. What we think can change quickly, but what we feel is deeper and takes either a longer time, or a much more powerful lever.
The level of crisis determines the approach, and the person’s ability to withstand pressure determines the timeline.
The rest is just a matter of technique and kindness.
In the end, the greatest thing I have to offer my friend is the space to feel safe in, so that she might learn the lessons to heal herself in a place that honors her humanity, and defends and uplifts her dignity.
Exposing the wounds so deep in our core is never easy, and the slightest hint of judgment or derision can be enough to shut us down.
So for now, the greatest gift I have to offer is caring.
Sometimes just knowing someone is there is allows us to see the beginning of the journey.
And then we walk.
— Dr. Alan Barnes
@maddrbmusings