Bumpers and Cars (and Mental Brakes)
When I saw the front bumper dangling low to the ground, threatening to detach entirely, I braced myself for the story and wondered how my friends had managed to make it over Teton Pass with the wounded metal hanging by a bolt. Mike eased the truck to a stop and didn’t utter a word as Maureen flung open the passenger door.
“He just about backed over me in the garage,” she began. “I screamed bloody murder and dove for the floor, but with the engine running, he didn’t hear a thing.”
By now, Mike had slumped nearly to the floormats behind the steering wheel. This trip was nonnegotiable, I knew – they both wanted to be here for the milestone we would share – but it seemed unlikely that the bumper – or Mike – would make the return trip without collateral damage.
“I’m so glad you’re both OK,” I said. “But what happened to the front of the car, if he was backing up?”
Maureen’s eyes narrowed.
“He lost his mind. When he saw me on the garage floor, he panicked. Put it in drive and floored it. You think the bumper looks bad? You should see the car-sized hole in the front wall of the garage.”
Have you ever screeched at a partner, child, or friend to “Hurry up, right now, we’re going to be late,” even knowing full well that about one hundred percent of children and partners respond unfavorably to angry confrontation? The die is cast. You are definitely gonna miss the bus.
Often, our split-second decisions are purely reactive, part of our hardwiring to sort any situation instantly and to act based on past experiences. When someone yells – or poses some sort of threat – we stop dead in our tracks, fight back, or run. The brain grabs its easiest gear, which is to take immediate action. It doesn’t care if you are “right” or happy about your action. It only cares that you do something – anything – to outlive the perception of danger.
This keen threat perception keeps us vigilant and quick in response to anything that might cause us harm, such as deer leaping onto the highway or things falling from a top shelf. It’s also why we have an inner critic, goading us to do “better.” But because most of the threats we face in modern life are perceived, the hair-trigger response is a bit outdated. Instead of needing to worry about survival, most of our worries are about the future, or what someone else might be thinking, or that big work project, and whether we have enough money. Sometimes we worry about the past, like holes in garage walls. All of these challenges are better served by critical thinking and emotional balance.
So what can we do? Create some distance between the stimulus and response. Before you yell or honk or blow your top, pause for at least one entire inhale and exhale. Or, practice saying a simple phrase to bring yourself into awareness when you feel reactive. A simple, “Slow down,” or “I’m OK right now” will do.
If you have a few minutes, try placing one hand over your heart and the other hand on your forehead (thank you to psychologist and author Dr. Peter Levine for this practice), and give your full attention to how you feel in your body, between your hands. When you notice a shift in sensation, move the top hand to the belly and focus on the space between your hands again.
The key to responding to modern-day stimuli is to interrupt the reactivity. By connecting to what is actually happening in your body or environment in the present moment, you’ll encourage an outcome that may serve you better.
Sometimes, collisions with garage walls cannot be avoided. But other times, we can create space for a more measured (and less costly) response. I’m wishing you the latter.