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Written by: Sonia Heidenreich, LGSW
We need to tell our stories for so many reasons: to make sense of our experiences, to create meaning, to experience a sense of cohesion within ourselves, and, sometimes, to speak the unspeakable. Particularly when we’ve experienced things that we have internalized as shameful, I believe it’s important to shine the light of narrative on these experiences in order to diminish their power over us. Just like switching on the closet light to make sure that there are no monsters dwelling inside, telling our stories sometimes helps us to overcome the fear that can accompany them. The problem with stories, though, is when we become fused with these narratives. In ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy), a key process is called cognitive defusion. In basic terms, this means noticing the thoughts (or stories) that hook our minds and taking a step back from them. It’s common for people to tell and retell their narrative once they’ve discovered it. It can feel good. Sometimes there’s the hope that in the retelling, we can make important people in our lives understand us better, or love us more, or see us more clearly. And sometimes, this is the case. But often, after the first telling, the retelling of our stories becomes a barrier between us and these important others. As we tell them again our story again, their mind switches into the “Yeah, yeah, I already know this” mode, or even the, “Why are you still talking about yourself? Don’t you care about me enough to want to listen to me?” mode. When we become fused like this with our stories, they’re accompanied by the unhelpful belief that we are our stories. When this happens, they can serve almost like a reverse invisibility cloak (Harry Potter reference, anyone?). Rather than concealing us from others, our fusion with our stories conceals the reality of the present--what’s going on in our present relationships, present moment experiences that contradict our narratives, or potential moments where we can enact something different in our lives. Rather than telling our story and integrating it into a more cohesive sense of ourselves, fusion leads us to see our entire lives through the lens of this story. This is a limited, constricted place to be. To become unstuck, we first have to notice when we’ve fused with our stories. Without judging ourselves for becoming hooked, we can then kindly and compassionately start to practice becoming unstuck. There are many cognitive defusion strategies, but what they all boil down to is this: First, notice the thought. Then, get some distance from this thought. My favorite way is to say, “I’m noticing the thought that __________.” In labeling the thought as “just a thought,” we gain some mental distance. Imagine going for a long hike through the woods to reach the top of a mountain. When we’re on the trail, it’s impossible to see where it leads, or to anticipate the twists and turns or obstacles. The trail starts to feel like it goes on forever. When we get to the top of the mountain, though, we can look down over the valley and see where we’ve come from, observing our path with the wisdom and insight that comes with distance. From this vantage point, we have perspective. Often, we can take a break, catch our breath, and acknowledge the hike with a more nuanced view: Yes, it was challenging, and yes, there were moments when we were tired or scared we weren’t going to make it. From our new, distanced vantage point, though, we can acknowledge these challenges and notice the other thoughts and feelings that arise: maybe a feeling of accomplishment, or pride, or satisfaction with ourselves. (The artist Mari Andrew has a really nice depiction of this on her Instagram—check her out!) Noticing, honoring, and ultimately unhooking ourselves from our stories is similar. At first, we’re lost in the woods, so to speak, and finding perspective can feel impossible. Once we make it through to the other side, though, we can step back, notice where we came from, and then start to shift our gaze to a vantage point ahead of us. With this perspective, we can start to move thoughtfully towards our future.
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 Written By: Lauren Barris, LCSW-C
Ever wonder why “just talking” about your problems can sometimes make you feel significantly better? Ever notice how good it feels to “get it off your chest,” “get out of your head,” or “talk it out”? Ever wonder why we have so many phrases for the simple act of talking about our feelings, or why many people (and maybe you) spend time, energy, and money for a professional to help them do this? The answer to all of these questions is simple: it works. Humans figured out long ago that translating painful emotions into words helps relieve suffering, and many have been relying on this coping strategy ever since. If you are one of the skeptics, or if you are simply curious to know why this works, read on! When we experience painful emotions, like anger, fear (anxiety), or sadness, our brain processes these in older parts of the brain such as the limbic/paralimbic regions and the amygdala. One of the tasks of these areas of the brain is to help us react to threats, and experiencing strong emotions often helps us do this quickly and effectively (think being faced by a bear in the woods - do you want to stand there logically weighing your pros and cons as it charges toward you, or do you want your fight/flight/freeze instincts to kick in and get you the heck out of there?). The problem arises when we are experiencing a powerful emotion, but don’t want to feel the urge to act on that emotion. Sitting with that emotional pain firing around in the back of our brain is not a pleasant experience, and when it is happening, we are often driven to react in some variant of those three ways I mentioned: fight, flight, or freeze. Sound familiar? So, what can we do to move our emotions out of those regions of the brain? We can use our words! When we identify, label and describe the emotion, it forces other parts of our brain to come online, like the language processing centers and the prefrontal cortex - hello logic and reason, goodbye fight, flight, and freeze! Now of course nothing that happens in the human brain is ever that simple, but the really cool thing is that this actually works. If you were laying in an MRI machine, having a powerful emotion, and you started to write about, rate, or label that emotion, you (or your doctor) would be able to see your brain activity actually shifting from your emotional processing centers up into the prefrontal areas and language processing centers. When this happens, your experience of the raw emotion becomes less intense. We know this because scientists actually proved it! www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1053811902000514 www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1364661305000902 So, the next time you notice an uncomfortably strong emotion that you would rather not be experiencing so intensely, try this out! You can start by simply putting words on the emotion in your mind (i.e. think to yourself: “I’m noticing that the feeling of anger is getting stronger”). For a stronger effect, try saying the words out loud or writing them down (writing and talking get extra points for demanding more brain functions, like speech production and fine motor coordination). And last but not least, instead of just venting (i.e. “I am SO angry that so-and-so did X, Y, and Z”) which may actually circle back to trigger the emotion processing centers and INCREASE your experience of the emotion, try describing the emotion with nonjudgmental, fact-based language, differentiating yourself from the emotion (i.e. “I’m noticing that I am beginning to feel somewhat sad, and that this feeling started increasing about an hour ago. I wonder what prompted this feeling…”). Good luck & let us know how it goes! |
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