Being kind to the nervous system

The push and shove of pandemics, vaccine roll-outs, and government mandates is unsettling. Even when things vaguely seem to be going on as normal, somewhere in our bellies and in our limbic systems, there is recognition of a loss of certainty and control over our lives. This is not always entirely conscious. This is typically an autonomic nervous system response: it threatens to throw us into fight, flight or freeze mode more easily and quickly than we realise.

At the time of the Christchurch earthquakes, there were very obvious stress responses in people that were due to the acute events. They provoked this autonomic response. What was less expected, however, were the deeper, longer-lasting stresses and traumas, previously forgotten, now shaken to the surface. These were sometimes decades old, often from childhood: these, too were from the autonomic response. These now threatened to over-run medical services. They still do.

 Anxiety and depression levels in teenagers and young adults, who were youngsters at the time of the earthquakes, today, are at significant levels. Something in the current pandemic stress levels appears to have triggered something of that previous earthquake “trauma memory”. Yet, we cannot deny that the pandemic, in its own right, is also affecting all of us to some degree. Humans have faced plagues and disasters throughout our existence. Are we still as mentally resilient as we used to be?

“Resilience” is a much over-used term, and there have been many opinions about what it is and how to get it. Nevertheless, I’m going to look at a brief history of recent times that suggests that humans are not doing as well as they once used to when it comes to resilience.

Historians and theologians are quick to point out how bad the Enlightenment and Modernity were for Christian faith. This was a time when humans, to cite Star-Trek, were going boldly and confidently “where no-one had gone before.” This confidence and positivity, however, especially in scientific endeavours, meant that there was much about the emotional and relational side of the human-makeup that was being left unexplored. In which case, according to some historians and theologians, humans deep-inside themselves were actually getting more fearful and anxious rather than less. They were especially afraid of lives being disrupted and of being homeless.[1] For all their ambitious bluster, humans were “emperors with no clothes.”

Now with post-modernism, there is perhaps less of a stable core strength inside us than we realise. We have become lost in too many external “things.” We have become dependent on them, and they dominate and control our sense of security. The worst of these is our consumer-society. However, there are a number of other things as well: over-focus on our careers, property, social media, sports, money, politicians (presidents), and so on. They become our faulty hand-holds for a sense of lost security, meaning and purpose. However, our collective identity is then always at risk of triggering an autonomic nervous system response from deep inside. These external securities are not proving adequate, andn which case we go on to develop longer term anxiety and depression.

What do these external “things”, these faulty securities, do? They distract us from connecting with our inner selves … and from being content and present with God. The result: easily triggered anxiety and depression that doesn’t let us think clearly anymore, and so we rush for more quick answers. What’s happened to true meaning and purpose?

What should we do? How do we recover “inner” identity and truth? The real answer is to be able to “sit” quietly with God, and “detox” from the external things we have got used to. But this is easier said than done. If we are anxious and bordering on depression because of stressful events (like pandemics), then we will have difficulty settling down the triggered fight-flight-freeze response. We will find it hard to press into God.

 What we need are soothing and supportive companions who are able to sit and listen to us. These are the Good Samaritans of this world: they help guide us to that resting-place with God. This is called companionship.[2]

Second, we need to be able to develop the skill of reflecting and analysing future goals and plans (even small ones) based on what we truly value and believe in. We should train ourselves to do this on a daily basis. This is training us to not get bogged down in things we are worried about and can’t control. We are learning to trust God: we are giving him space to do his thing.

Theologian Walter Brueggemann calls this “hopeful imagination.” It is the kind of imagination that gets used to quiet truth rather than external “artificial facts.” This is what builds up resilience. It also happens to be at the heart of a counselling therapy called Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). This is therapy that trains people to put worries to one side while they focus on their true values and goals in life. This is not to ignore the worry, exactly, but simply to say that the worry is not as important as making and moving towards a more positive focus. For example, one focus might be to put more hope and trust in relationships, or to spend more time quietly with God.[3] 

Dr Jeremy Baker,

MBChB, FRNZCGP, MTh.

Clinical Director of HeartSpace

www.heartspace.org.nz

[1] Bordo, S. (1987)The Flight to Objectivity: Essays on Cartesianism and Culture. Albany: State University of New York Press. Also see
Brueggemann, W. (1993) Texts Under Negotiation: The Bible and Postmodern Imagination. Fortress.

[2] Siegel, D. (2012). The Developing Mind: How Relationships and the brain Interact to Shape Who We Are (2nd ed.). New York: Guilford.

[3] Nieuwsma, J., Walser, R. & Hayes, S. (2016). ACT for Clergy and Pastoral Counselors: Using Acceptance and Commitment Therapy to Bridge Psychological and Spiritual Care. Context Press.