Lasting well-being and life story crafting.
Easy-to-use exercises to move from depression to well-being 10 minutes at a time.
After I notice a stressful emotion.
I will ask myself which animal is trying to get my attention.
Lizard: physical safety concerns.
Mouse: concerns about not having enough.
Monkey: concerns about connection and social acceptance.
Then I will celebrate.
What Makes Feelings Stressful
Courtesy of evolution, before my prefrontal cortex, the newest part of my brain gets a crack at interpreting the sensation, I have to run it by the brainstem, the limbic system, and the cortex.
My Emotional Ancestry
For whatever reason, I never developed an interest in genealogy. My prefrontal cortex (the newest part of my brain) is more interested in stories. So, to remember how the brainstem, subcortex, and neocortex work together to create my emotional ancestry, I use the animal analogies from Rick Hanson’s book Resilient to tell myself a story.
A Lizard, a Mouse, and a Monkey
A lizard, a mouse, and a monkey arrive at a crowded restaurant at lunch hour.
They tacitly agree to share the one remaining table.
But the lizard worries that the monkey is going to eat him.
And the mouse worries that the restaurant will run out of cheese.
And the monkey wonders whether the lizard and the mouse will like him.
My Menagerie Triage
Before a thought arises in my prefrontal cortex, my brainstem (lizard brain), subcortex (mouse or small mammal brain), and monkey or primate brain) have all weighed in emotionally. It’s not until this jumble of emotional responses arrives at the door of my prefrontal cortex (human brain) that I get to sort out which animal (if any) is getting it right.
Lizard Brain
When things go bump in the night, the first responder is lizard brain, ready to fight, flee or freeze.
I used to tease my inner lizard by watching horror movies for jump scares or riding roller coasters. In controlled settings, tricking the lizard into releasing adrenaline is a rush. It’s easy under such circumstances for my rational brain to assure this animal emotion that the threat is not real. A sigh of relief or a good laugh will do it.
When I perceive a threat is genuine, whether it is or not, the adrenaline rush is just as thrilling but not as fun. Our lizard brain takes control.
Mouse Brain
I crave cheese enough to put in on my grocery list when I’m running low. But I don’t crave it nearly as much as a mouse.
I often use my mouse brain to crave things other than cheese. Social media engineers at Facebook constantly retool their interface to entice this animal emotion of craving. Netflix cues up another show as soon as one draws to a close.
To understand how my own mouse brain works, I can complete these sentences.
I crave __________ like a mouse craves cheese.
When I crave _________, mouse brain’s at the wheel.
Monkey Brain
The brain region that constantly updates my relationship status with all the members of my tribe is something I share with apes (who don’t have tails) and monkeys (who do). It’s the animal emotion of belonging.
Monkey brain is always on the lookout for clues it’s fitting in with friends, connected to family, and has enough status within the tribe to attract a mate.
Monkey brain takes precedence when I fear being shunned by my tribe.
Imaginary Threats
While the animals in my head do a pretty good job assessing the world around them, they’re less skilled at processing my human tendency to make things up.
Human imagination and “what if” thinking has led to science and western medicine (to patch lizard brain’s body up when I unsuccessfully fight, flee or freeze). We’ve streamlined the production of cheese and refrigeration so my mouse brain can always satisfy its craving. We’ve invented social media and texting so my monkey brain can monitor its relationships 24/7.
Imaginary Stress
I can also imagine that it’s not safe to go outside based on a false story circulating on social media. This tricks lizard brain into freezing in place.
I can imagine the pleasure promised by shiny objects I see on Amazon’s website. But no matter how much I accumulate or how far in debt I go to buy them, mouse brain is never satisfied.
I can imagine that staying in touch with friends and family via social media or texting is the best thing since, well, cheese. But somehow when they don’t text back immediately, or like my posts, I feel unloved. And even when they do respond, my monkey brain senses something’s missing.
Lizards who aren’t faced with actual peril know how to chill out. Mice may be on the lookout for cheese, but they don’t waste time seeking things that don’t provide real sustenance. Monkeys stay in actual physical touch with their community through grooming, which builds trust, reduces anxiety, and builds self-esteem.
1. Think of a recent decision you made.
2. What was the original stimulus?
3. What was the feeling associated with that stimulus?
Pleasant.
Unpleasant.
Calm.
Aroused.
4. What did you perceive was happening?
5. Name a previous experience you drew upon to form a concept about what was happening?
6. What did you decide to do?
7. Did you carry out your decision?
Pee Break
When my interoception wishes to signal me that my bladder is filling, it does so with an unpleasant calm sensation. I interpret the sensation as:
No need to panic, but I’m just giving you notice that you’re going to need to pee some time soon.
Instead of immediately dropping what I’m doing to tend to this e-motion (outward motion), I can decide whether it’s more urgent than continuing to write this post.
Depending on how caught up I get in the writing, the feeling will gradually ratchet up the intensity from unpleasant calm to unpleasant arousal.
If you don’t want to wet yourself, you better find yourself a toilet. Pronto!
How We Build Concepts
In “Super Stupid Simple Emotions,” I listed the four feelings as:
Pleasant.
Unpleasant.
Calmness.
Arousal.
These feelings are coming and going all day every day.
When I see, hear, smell, taste, or touch anything in the world, while conscious, a feeling accompanies it.
Based on that feeling, a perception or focus of attention arises.
Based on that feeling, the association machine in my brain starts to ask what caused similar perceptions in the past. The output of that database search is a concept.
Based on that concept, a plan of action arises.
Depending on how “aroused” I am, I can choose to act or not act on that plan.
Interoception Goes to the Movies
A while back, I received my weekly newsletter from the Academy Theatre, a refurbished art-deco styled independent movie house with reasonable ticket prices, a good beer selection, and pizza!
As I scanned the list of movies playing the following week, I noticed my feelings.
Grim New 3-Hour Reboot of Superhero Series
Unpleasant, calm.
Celebrity Crime Drama by Famous Director that Did His Best Work 30 Years Ago
Unpleasant, calm.
Sequel to An Animated Film I Had No Interest in At the Time
Unpleasant, calm.
New Academy-Award Nominated Film By One of My Favorite Living Directors Who Is Still Near the Top of His Game
Pleasant, aroused.
Based on the awareness of something in my environment, and a feeling, a perception arises.
My mind begins searching its database for previous experiences with that perception.
The Academy Theatre can fill up, but there are seldom lines on Monday nights, no wait to get pizza and beer, Elizabeth and I can sit where we like.
Pleasant, calm.
We both enjoy movies by the director.
Pleasant, calm.
We’d seen a preview of the film, and while we couldn’t make out what happens, it seems light and fun.
Pleasant, calm.
Based on that database sort, we make a decision to see the movie at the Academy Theatre on Monday night.
And we follow through with the action.
Mixed Feelings, Bad Data, No Data
Three things that can make this world-building process stressful are mixed feelings, bad data, and no data. Sometimes both pleasant and unpleasant feelings arise during the sorting process.
Mixed feelings: I’d love to see the movie, but traffic is bonkers at that hour.
Bad data: I might be working with bad data (inaccurate information).
I might rely on memories of early films by the director of Celebrity Crime Drama by Famous Director that Did His Best Work 30 Years Ago and forget that he hasn’t done anything worth seeing in the last 25 years.
No Data: I might have no information about an aspect of the decision.
A friend might suggest seeing a movie on Monday night. No time specified. No theater specified. No movie specified. Here it comes down to my basic level of comfort/anxiety toward the unknown. When I think about trying something I have no previous experience with, do pleasant or unpleasant sensations arise?