Dysregulated nervous systems

Sometimes life piles on the big stressors, one after the other, and we feel that tightening of the chest and a frightening feeling that too much is out of our control. It might feel like sanity can't prevail and that we're about to break. If this is a regular loop, it helps to take a fresh look at what is meant to carry us in these moments - the reality of our nervous system, and what we're doing to it through our own embedded thought processes and automatic actions that aren't helping. When we can understand that, we can look honestly and objectively at how we might be making things worse for ourselves - without the shame or blame.

If we can objectively understand the reality of our nervous system, we can then uncover a sensible, accessible path to a better, happier place for ourselves. The more regulated our nervous system is, the more useful and effective our response to stress. The more dysregulated our nervous system is, the higher the likelihood of creating more dysfunction and more stress, and feeling like we can't manage life. 

A regulated nervous system is not necessarily calm all the time, but once a threat has passed, it can move fluidly from a state of stress to a centred place again. There are biological mechanisms involved in this, like the Vagus nerve which helps to slow down your heart rate after a stressful experience, say after getting a fright. So in the normal ups and downs of life, this means you move through it and stay capable of rational thought, rather than being overwhelmed and needing to shut down. 

A dysregulated nervous system is one that can't move fully back to that centred place. It gets caught up in a survival state, even when there is no immediate danger. It might get stuck in always being 'on', which might look like anxiety, panic and hyper-vigilance. Or it might get stuck in being 'off', in which case it can consist of depression, numbness and dissociation. 

How does this happen? And what can we do about it? 

The specific state of our nervous system is created by a complex combination of factors, including biology, environment and history. Rather than trying to unpack all of those, the following might help in shaping the narrative to suit your particular reality. 

The burning house

Imagine a nervous system as a house you live in, right from birth. Like everyone else's houses, yours is flammable, and as life happens, little fires start in different places. At first, each time this happens, it scares the living daylight out of you, because all you know is that it's hot, it burns and you have no idea what to do about it. If you're lucky, those who see what's happening in your house, help you from a young age to learn what to do to put the fire out. This might be parents, teachers, extended family, etc. They teach you that its ok, there are ways to deal with the fires - whether you started it or whether it spread from another house. You learn that its just part of life. They might then even teach you how to rebuild the scorched bit of the house to be a little more resilient, so you have less to worry about in future. 

If you're supported like this, you learn that being upset when things go wrong is normal, that you have the capability to build the skills to handle a lot yourself, but that you can also reach out and others will help you when it is too much to handle, and that's ok too. All in all, you're able to keep your house in a good state, it protects you and makes you feel safe. Then, when a fire inevitably breaks out, whether as a slow smoulder or a fast burning inferno, you trust yourself. You know what to do. The fire is put out, the house is repaired, and you're safe again.  

Unfortunately, this is not how the story plays out for everyone. For many, the help offered early on is limited. Perhaps they are too often told that there is no fire, and that they're over-reacting. Perhaps they learn that their reaction to their own discomfort and even fear, is creating too much drama for everyone else, and that they need to act like everything is fine, even when it doesn't feel like it is. The fires still burn, but they learn to shut the doors to those rooms and try to just live in the parts that aren't burning. They shrink their space, and in effect, themselves, to be acceptable to those around them, in the hope that they will find protection and safety in others' perception of them. Inevitably though, they don't, because they have shrunk what they show of themselves so much that they are existing in a disconnected state. Without being fully seen, they internalise the thought that they aren't, and never will be, enough. 

Others react differently. Perhaps they are too scared to ignore the fires that nobody is acknowledging or helping with. Even a small fire starts to terrify them, because they don't know what to do or what will happen next. And because their fear reactions keep escalating, people start making that the focus of the conversation. This tells them in no uncertain terms that they are in fact the problem. Yet the fire burns, and it hurts. Inevitably, they then start to believe that the only way the pain and fear stops, is for them to somehow be different in ways they don't even understand. This leaves them with an impossible task - how do you fix what you don't know how to fix? How can you be ok, when you can't fix yourself?

In all these scenarios, and without a solution, the fires keep burning and the fear keeps building until it is unbearable. It is at this point that they stumble upon what feels like a solution. They realise they can distract themselves by ignoring their burning house and staring out a window. They can still feel the heat on their back the whole time, and they know that when the distraction ends and they look at the state of their house, the fire will still be there and they will be hit with the full force of the fear  and hopelessness again. For now though, it helps to stare out the window and survive another day. 

Unfortunately, this distraction means that the house burns bit by bit, giving them less and less protection, and making them more and more vulnerable and fearful. This fills them with shame and anger at themselves. Sometimes, when they see others living in safe, sturdy houses, they try to be brave and put out a fire, maybe even rebuild a bit of their house. But the fire burns in so many places, and change seems such an impossible task, that they retreat again to their window, hoping to escape the pain. And bit by bit, they lose hope that they will ever be able to live in a safe house. 

Putting out the fire

What to do then? The solution, obviously, is to gain the perspective that it is not their fault that they didn't have the skills initially to deal with their own emotions in a healthy way, and that it is not their fault that their learning in this space was not fully supported. Often parents, teachers and extended family and friends will do their best, but they themselves may not have had the insight or skills to teach and help in the necessary way. 

Unfortunately, this is rarely a helpful starting point. YOUR HOUSE IS ON FIRE. It hurts! Now is not the time for logic and life lessons. The fire needs to be put out first. Not the whole fire, just enough to give you a patch to stand on. To feel hope that you can have a place from which to tackle the next bit. That's all. Just one little patch in your house that's yours to feel a bit better in. 

What does this look like? It's physical. It's accessible. It can be really really small. It's not about changing you (because that was never the problem to begin with) or immediately changing your life in a grand way. It's about doing one little thing, like a walk down the road or pulling out five weeds in the garden, or sitting outside and watching life go by while breathing slowly and feeling the breeze on your skin. Something that takes you away from your window of distraction and turns you towards your suffering nervous system with a bucket of cool, soothing water. Just one little healthy thing. A small pattern of real relief, repeated every day.

Establish that small pattern of change, maybe each time before you reach for your daily distraction. As you choose to do it, remind yourself each time, that this is you taking care of your house that can be repaired to keep you safe. That your nervous system can also become regulated, just like everyone else's. That you can learn how to do this, maybe a bit late, but properly nonetheless. But that you first need to see yourself put out a bit of the fire, for a little while, to have a patch to stand on and take the next step from. 

It might not feel like much. In fact, it might start off not feeling like anything useful at all. But keep doing it, and keep building on it. Walk a little further each day, even just to the next lamp post or tree. Ask a friend or a parent or a colleague to join in once a week. Or spend a minute longer in the garden each time, maybe even to the point where you create little projects, like clearing a whole garden bed of weeds, and keeping it cleared. 

Regular movement, sunshine and slowed, deliberate breathing is medicine. Cool, soothing water for your burning nervous system. If you keep it up, it will clear a patch. It will show you that you can make a difference, through your own actions, to put the fires out. At some point, this could even bring you into better sleep - a cornerstone for every regulated nervous system. 

At first, you will still have that hollow, fearful feeling. You will still worry that the fires will always come back. But what you're working towards, is knowing that you can make your house safe. That you can develop the skills to first put out some fires, then learn how to make your house stronger so they don't flare up so badly that they overwhelm you. You are in control. You can do this. You are not the problem. 

Start small, ask for help, keep going. 

You already live in a magic house that can keep you safe if you take care of it.