I’m fascinated by John Ratey’s book, A User’s Guide to the Brain. Ratey tells us that it’s up to us to make the most of the brains we’re born with. Our genes and our brain do not predetermine our fate unless we allow this. We may be predisposed to anger, overeating or abuse of alcohol, but each time we overcome our particular weakness, we help change the brain. The brain has amazing plasticity, not only when we’re children but throughout our lives!
By viewing the brain as a muscle that can be weakened or strengthened, we can exercise our ability to determine who we become. Indeed, once we understand how the brain develops, we can train our brains for health, vibrancy, and longevity. Barring a physical illness, there’s no reason why we can’t stay actively engaged into our nineties (p. 17.)
In other words, use it or lose it.
All our brains have the same general features that make us human. But each of us develops an “exclusive brain suited to our particular needs” (p. 31.) This exclusive brain has been developed in response to our environment and our experiences.
In the case of early trauma, the brain develops to survive a hostile environment. This ability to adapt allowed the human species to survive warzones and extreme hunger. “The brain is a dynamic, highly sensitive system that may adapt, for better or worse, to almost any element of its environment” (p.6.)
So, what do you and I do if our brains have been shaped by early abuse? First of all, we need to be grateful for our brain’s ability to adapt and allow us to survive. Then it’s up to us to train our brains, as Ratey says, for health, vibrancy and longevity.
When I come to think of it, my own efforts at re-training my brain to feel safe and loved have centered on being physically fit, surrounding myself with caring, decent people and increasing my self esteem by being successful in my work.
Do you have some ways you realize you have changed your brain? What has worked for you to lessen the effects of early childhood trauma?
I'd like to hear from you. Please leave a comment.
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Friday, July 16, 2010
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Why yoga?
Long before I knew that my “irrational” fear and anxiety were caused by child sexual abuse, I was drawn to yoga’s promise of inner calm. This was in the 1960s and '70s when most North Americans associated yoga with culturally dissonant contortions performed by skinny men in loincloths. I knew no one who practiced yoga.
As it turned out, yoga was the perfect choice for someone who had lost any sense of her own body to child abuse. I was desperate for some way of relaxing the spasms in my shoulder, neck and back muscles. In my yoga class, I was safe and separate on my own mat. There was no competition. No one was watching. For the first time in my life it was safe to concentrate on what was happening in my body. I was fascinated.
As the months went by, my muscles firmed up. I felt more energetic and even peaceful for hours at a time. I was hooked. It was possible to imagine another way of being: a way that was relaxed and joyful.
Today, there are many types of yoga available. You can choose the one you prefer. Classical hatha yoga was what I found and later taught. After class I always felt soft and loving toward the world. I also studied Iyengar yoga which the founder, B.K.S. Iyengar, designed for the western body. It is strengthening and emotionally grounding. By contrast, following a class I always felt ready to take on the world. There are many other varieties. Shop around until you find the one that suits you.
Back when I was a yoga teacher, adults did not generally go to fitness classes. People like me were attracted to yoga, people who had never been keen on sports or exercising. Maybe this is because we associated breathing heavily from physical effort with the terror we once felt.
Today there are so many types of fitness classes. The choice is infinite. But I still think yoga offers remarkable healing power to those who were traumatized as children. Yoga teaches us mindfulness, the opposite of dissociation. In yoga classes you learn how to relax your own tension and change your emotional state with your breathing. Yoga puts you into a friendly partnership with your own body. This in itself is uniquely beneficial.
As it turned out, yoga was the perfect choice for someone who had lost any sense of her own body to child abuse. I was desperate for some way of relaxing the spasms in my shoulder, neck and back muscles. In my yoga class, I was safe and separate on my own mat. There was no competition. No one was watching. For the first time in my life it was safe to concentrate on what was happening in my body. I was fascinated.
As the months went by, my muscles firmed up. I felt more energetic and even peaceful for hours at a time. I was hooked. It was possible to imagine another way of being: a way that was relaxed and joyful.
Today, there are many types of yoga available. You can choose the one you prefer. Classical hatha yoga was what I found and later taught. After class I always felt soft and loving toward the world. I also studied Iyengar yoga which the founder, B.K.S. Iyengar, designed for the western body. It is strengthening and emotionally grounding. By contrast, following a class I always felt ready to take on the world. There are many other varieties. Shop around until you find the one that suits you.
Back when I was a yoga teacher, adults did not generally go to fitness classes. People like me were attracted to yoga, people who had never been keen on sports or exercising. Maybe this is because we associated breathing heavily from physical effort with the terror we once felt.
Today there are so many types of fitness classes. The choice is infinite. But I still think yoga offers remarkable healing power to those who were traumatized as children. Yoga teaches us mindfulness, the opposite of dissociation. In yoga classes you learn how to relax your own tension and change your emotional state with your breathing. Yoga puts you into a friendly partnership with your own body. This in itself is uniquely beneficial.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Basking in a warm glow
This morning I wakened with a sense of delicious happiness. Ah yes, my warm glow had to do with the amazing launch for my book, Confessions of a Trauma Therapist. The book launch was weeks ago, but this is the first time I’ve been able to bask in the pleasure of recalling that evening in the auditorium of Women’s College Hospital.
Right after the launch, I left for two weeks in Germany where I’d booked my flight and registered for the annual International Focusing Conference months ago. The timing wasn’t great. It allowed no time to simply reflect on and luxuriate in the memories of the launch. The launch was over and the next thing I knew, I was packing all the copies of Confessions of a Trauma Therapist I could possibly carry in my suitcase, backpack and a Loblaw shopping bag, and heading for the airport.
Back to this morning: My mind goes over and over all the faces who came to break the silence and tell the terrible secrets of child abuse. In my mind’s eye I see the hundreds who came to support those who are on a healing path. Since the launch, I’ve had the chance to speak to a number of people for whom the evening opened new understanding of child abuse and its impact on the lives of its victims. And I’ve heard from the victims who have fresh determination to heal from their own invisible wounds. Survivors, those who are dealing with their abuse have told me they have fresh insights into what’s needed for healing.
I’m hearing, too, of people who were there whom I missed seeing. And, as I lie in bed first thing in the morning, I go over and over recalling all the wonderful people who crowded into the auditorium on that magic evening.
With support and caring like that, surely child abuse will one day become a bizarre and ugly relic of the past, something people know occurred historically, but can no longer exist in the current atmosphere of vigilance and caring for children.
Right after the launch, I left for two weeks in Germany where I’d booked my flight and registered for the annual International Focusing Conference months ago. The timing wasn’t great. It allowed no time to simply reflect on and luxuriate in the memories of the launch. The launch was over and the next thing I knew, I was packing all the copies of Confessions of a Trauma Therapist I could possibly carry in my suitcase, backpack and a Loblaw shopping bag, and heading for the airport.
Back to this morning: My mind goes over and over all the faces who came to break the silence and tell the terrible secrets of child abuse. In my mind’s eye I see the hundreds who came to support those who are on a healing path. Since the launch, I’ve had the chance to speak to a number of people for whom the evening opened new understanding of child abuse and its impact on the lives of its victims. And I’ve heard from the victims who have fresh determination to heal from their own invisible wounds. Survivors, those who are dealing with their abuse have told me they have fresh insights into what’s needed for healing.
I’m hearing, too, of people who were there whom I missed seeing. And, as I lie in bed first thing in the morning, I go over and over recalling all the wonderful people who crowded into the auditorium on that magic evening.
With support and caring like that, surely child abuse will one day become a bizarre and ugly relic of the past, something people know occurred historically, but can no longer exist in the current atmosphere of vigilance and caring for children.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
How our brains protect us
I’m in Germany where I have been teaching the participants at the annual International Focusing Conference how our brains protect us from whatever is too terrible to assimilate into consciousness.
I explained that normal memory, like the memory of being in my workshop, is an explicit memory. That is, it has details. They will remember much of what I said, who was there and so on.
On the other hand, implicit memory, as in traumatic memory, is carried in the body. It lacks a narrative and details.
A normal event is first registered by the thalamus of the brain, then goes to the amygdala and then to the hippocampus for storage. However, if the event is traumatic, the amygdala acts as a watchdog and doesn’t pass it on to the hippocampus for storage. That means that maybe there never was a whole memory. The memory might fragment into pieces that are visual or olfactory, but lack a context.
The mind doesn’t know about the terrible event, but the body does. Fear is the major emotion of trauma. Anxiety and depression result, even though the person cannot attach a reason for the disturbance.
Time does not heal traumatic memory. The feelings are in the present. It seems as if something terrible or threatening is happening in the present – or is about to happen. The task for psychotherapy or any type of healing is to put the past into the past. This means changing the way the brain experiences your existence.
I explained that normal memory, like the memory of being in my workshop, is an explicit memory. That is, it has details. They will remember much of what I said, who was there and so on.
On the other hand, implicit memory, as in traumatic memory, is carried in the body. It lacks a narrative and details.
A normal event is first registered by the thalamus of the brain, then goes to the amygdala and then to the hippocampus for storage. However, if the event is traumatic, the amygdala acts as a watchdog and doesn’t pass it on to the hippocampus for storage. That means that maybe there never was a whole memory. The memory might fragment into pieces that are visual or olfactory, but lack a context.
The mind doesn’t know about the terrible event, but the body does. Fear is the major emotion of trauma. Anxiety and depression result, even though the person cannot attach a reason for the disturbance.
Time does not heal traumatic memory. The feelings are in the present. It seems as if something terrible or threatening is happening in the present – or is about to happen. The task for psychotherapy or any type of healing is to put the past into the past. This means changing the way the brain experiences your existence.
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