I was in a meeting the other day, trying to de-stress and find resources for a background level of anxiety, and the topic was judgment. It got me thinking, as much of the sharing was about judging others.
Judgment isn’t good or bad; we’re designed to make choices
What came to me, was the relationship between how we judge and the reference material our minds have for making judgments. Judgment isn’t good or bad; we’re designed to make choices. Our intellect and experience filter everything we observe and do.
It’s like cruise control in a car. I can override it, but it has to be a choice. Otherwise, I’ll continue on autopilot until I crash into something.
It’s important for me to remember that my judgment of present life situations can be skewed in either direction by past trauma. I may look at a current relationship, for example, and if it reminds me of a painful one in the past, I could easily run the other way without giving this one a chance.
The philosophy of yoga talks about this. Memories of past events lodge in our brains and direct our current reactions. They’re called samskaras in yoga and are described as “grooves in the brain” taking us down these twisty but familiar roads of reactivity, keeping us from seeing this situation as unique. So we continue doing the same things over and over again, expecting different results (kind of like an old, scratched 45 rpm record).
Today, science explains that our minds have a negative bias, created by the amygdala as a sort of shorthand, for the purpose of keeping us safe. If something was painful in our past, we’re more likely to remember it, unlike something pleasant that we forget. And because it’s memory, we react more quickly than if we had to think it through.
But, as a trauma survivor, memory may not accurately inform current decisions. Then, things become complicated
Even though a past event was painful, if it feels familiar I might gravitate toward this one – because it feels familiar. Sounds crazy, right? Well, it is… sort of. Here’s how it worked for me.
The “fawn response,” as therapists call it, keeps trauma survivors trying to make others happy so they’ll stop hurting us. It’s what happens when you know you can’t fight and you can’t run. It’s often true for children because they need their parents in order to survive.
What I learned as a child was how to be a peacemaker. “Fawning,” was my first option. But I didn’t really have an option two. So, I’d lose it.
For me, fawning worked – sometimes. When it didn’t, I’d panic. I’d cry uncontrollably, threaten to hurt myself, anything to make my parents stop fighting. That worked – sort of. The yelling stopped. But the problem didn’t go away, and my mom still had a black eye in the morning.
As an adult, I did much the same thing. I would try to smooth things over, accept unacceptable behavior, and numb out the pain – until I just couldn’t do it anymore, and in desperation I’d lose it completely, repeating my childhood panic attacks. I accepted a lot of things I shouldn’t have and endured a lot of pain because of it. I was also called “crazy” more than once because of my desperate, fearful, last-ditch efforts to fix the unfixable.
Emotional numbing, the fawn response, and panic don’t go away without awareness and effort. It’s how so many of us with violent, dysfunctional pasts continue to gravitate to the same situations in the present.
In this case, the samskaras were misleading. I believed, because a situation was familiar and because I was numb, that I could fix it by being extra nice, extra sweet, and more. In other words, I’d fawn instead. It was my go-to. When it didn’t work, I panicked.
To overcome the samskaras that were holding my felt sense and intuition hostage, I needed to understand that my past solutions weren’t working in the present. I also had to accept that while both my parents contributed to some very painful memories, they had fairly extensive trauma histories of their own. A program helped me find forgiveness for them, and for myself.
Today, I no longer rely on old patterns to guide my actions. Today I have choices, and I make certain that before I take any action in a difficult situation, I look at what’s in front of me in the present moment, not just back at the past.
When yoga came into my life I was already in 12-step programs. These programs helped me a lot, but the constant stress of living on “red alert” exhausted my body and mind, creating daily physical pain. My body started breaking down.
When I came to that first yoga class, the teacher welcomed me and I gave him my laundry list of what I couldn’t do. His only response was, “Yet.” I didn’t understand then, but he was right.
The awareness that I was on autopilot came from my yoga practice, and I realized I was dissociating before that was a term I even knew. Yoga started changing me gently – physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Making good decisions for myself was also something I didn’t do “yet.”
That, and many other things, I can do today.
I believe my Higher Power guided me to exactly what I needed – therapeutic yoga. The practices were gentle until I could do more, and the awareness I’ve gained keeps me connected to myself in ways I’d never experienced.
The programs and yoga saved my life.
I’m so grateful for everything I’ve been given, and also for what was taken away.
Celeste Mendelsohn
IAYT Certified Yoga Therapist and Complex Trauma Recovery Coach
https://www.treatingtraumawithyoga.com
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