We
experience fear – and, when this is acute or prolonged enough, trauma – both in
and through our bodies. And we experience recovery from fear – and healing from
trauma – both in and through our bodies. That is to say, it is embodied
activity, as opposed to thought alone, that brings us to a place of emotional regulation.
Our
birth, even if it is free of complications, is the original crisis, the
original traumatic experience. When Mary delivered her firstborn son, she
wrapped him in swaddling bands, confined him in strips of cloth against his
skin, so that he is contained, so that he feels the pressure on his skin and
registers safety.
Those
of us who are neurodivergent often regulate our emotions through stimming,
through repeated movements or micromovement, jiggling a leg or flapping a hand
or rubbing a small object between our fingers. For others, whether
neurodivergent or neurotypical, it might be knitting. Some forms of attempting emotional
regulation are less healthy than others. In my society, alcohol is perhaps the most
common form of self-medication, more a numbing than a regulating of emotion.
Others, especially if you are middle aged and middle class, run. And/or do yoga
or Pilates or go to the gym. Ironically, these things, too, can become an addiction.
I
am a runner, an activity that helps to ground me in my body and resists the dominance
of my highly active mind. But the winter months are hard for me, for various
reasons, and my running fell off a cliff in mid-October. Having run only twice
in November, and not much more this month, I went for a run last night. I
attempted another, shorter run, this morning (back-to-back runs on a Friday night,
Saturday morning, are not unusual for me) but had to bail almost immediately
due to a pain in my knee I could not risk ignoring. Now home, I can feel the
support holding my knee. And I have pulled on a jumper, slightly tight and with
a fleecy lining. It feels like being held. It feels safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment