Hiding is Not Healing: A Parable of Chewing Gum and Hair

When I was a kid, around 7 years old or so, my mom read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to me and my brothers. Being a kid with a vast imagination, I was entranced by the descriptions of the factory, especially the chocolate river. What a great idea. You may recall the character named Violet, whose vice was chewing gum. Every night she would put her gum on her bed post while she slept, and she would tuck it behind her ear when it was time to eat meals. The objective was maximum preservation of gum chewing enjoyment. Seemed like a good plan to my little self. 

After being enlightened by this sacred text of candy and Oompa Loompas, I decided to pull a Violet at lunch time. Carefully placed behind my ear, that gum was ready to reunite with my mouth right after my meal. Of course, the gum was resistant to dislodging when the time came. Mild panic set in as I attempted to tease it out, only mashing it into more strands of hair. Play and other activities of the day called, and at some point I must have decided to just leave it there. I don’t know if I was just totally in denial that it was an issue at that point, but I just figured I would ignore it. 

Bedtime came, and, yup, I slept on it. 

The next morning my mom tried to brush my hair. After declaring that there was something in my hair, she tried to elicit an explanation from me for some time. “I don’t know” was my adamant reply. Again, I went with the theory that if I pretended it didn’t happen, maybe it would magically go away. Of course, the truth eventually came out, which resulted in some peanut butter home remedy attempt (FYI this doesn’t work). I was taken reluctantly to the hairdresser where my long curls were chopped off to eliminate the gum (and peanut butter), which was, by then, well entrenched into a significant segment of my hair. I’m pretty sure that I cried when my brilliant plan went so horribly awry. 

Some things feel so uncomfortable, unmanageable and, well, ugly, that we naturally want to avoid them, much like my gum when it became obvious it was a problem. Unresolved relationship losses, grief, conflict and many other situations often pop up in intrusive and unexpected ways if we don’t take time to process them. I tried to avoid my gum problem with sleep, playing, and flat out denial- not so different from many strategies we try as adults.

Old beliefs that are no longer helpful can arise. Emotions that feel like they are coming out of nowhere can unsettle us. Though it may be uncomfortable, taking time to process losses, change, and conflicts can us bring to a place of resolution. This isn’t to say processing erases negative memories, but we may be able to feel more clarity, less emotional and physical activation, and more adaptive perspectives. 

* photographic documentation of above noted haircut could, sadly, not be recovered at this time. 

Artist rendering of resulting haircut

Trauma? What Trauma?

In an effort to maintain a sense of our selves as competent and in control, we so often deny our vulnerability, hurt and pain. When we do this, we are trying to save ourselves, but in truth we actually lose an important part of ourselves. The essence of trauma is disconnection- from Self, and from others. When we don’t acknowledge all parts of ourselves, including our feelings (even the uncomfortable and vulnerable ones), we pay a high price. We can’t really engage in meaningful relationships and activities when we are numbed out. Numbing and avoidance are common symptoms of trauma, and are the mind’s way of trying to cope with overwhelming stress. There is often a fear that if the parts that numb and avoid stop doing that, panic would set in and the ability to cope with everyday life would be out the window.

Trauma symptoms can be described as a normal response to abnormal circumstances. What happens in the body and mind in life threatening circumstances is not (hopefully) an everyday occurrence, but it can be essential to survival when under threat. That threat can be real or perceived, and the effect is the same. It is characterized by a sense of loss of control. People can also be traumatized by the chronic situations, like growing up in a neglectful home where they don’t feel important or cared for.  It’s not uncommon for people to have symptoms even though their rational brain knows that they are safe now. 

New research in neurobiology is helping us understand better than ever before how stressful life experiences impact us, including how our nervous system functions, which impacts every thing else (immune system, digestion and chronic pain, to name a few ways). Yet, so often I hear from clients “I didn’t think it was that big of deal” or “there are lots of people that had it worse”. We all have parts of ourselves that try to protect us from feeling overwhelmed or out of control. Sometimes in an effort to help us cope, those parts try to minimize and avoid owning experiences where we felt weak, powerless or shame. We are much more comfortable thinking of ourselves as competent and in control all the time, and we don’t like to imagine that there is actually a possibility of terrible things happening that we can’t prevent. 

So what does healing involve? Many things. First, it needs to be paced so that it doesn’t overwhelm the ability of the brain and body to cope. If a person is still in a dangerous situation (physically, mentally or emotionally) trauma processing is not appropriate because the brain and body actually do need to be in fight, flight or freeze mode to survive. Second, it supports processing and integration of painful experiences so that they can be owned as part of your story. This means being able to recognize and acknowledge what happened from a present moment orientation (not re-experiencing) and helps the mind to be able to fully recognize the difference between then and now. The intention is to move the mind and body out of habitual survival responses. Finally, as energy is freed up by the loosening of restrictive trauma responses (the same patterns over and over), there are possibilities, choices and preferences to be explored- a new way of being.

Finding happiness

Research on positive neuroplasticity teaches us that taking time to intentionally notice the good things in life can help us to feel better over time (see http://www.rickhanson.net/the-science-of-positive-brain-change/). It's a simple practice that can shift how we see the world, as we seek out the good that we might otherwise overlook while we are distracted with the day to day stresses of life. As our minds calm during this practice, we are also more able to access our internal strengths (like creativity, problem solving, perspective) to cope with difficult situations. See http://www.rickhanson.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/09/Taking-in-the-Good.pdf for tips on how to practice.

 A friend introduced me to the idea of keeping a "happy book" about 20 years ago and I still enjoy noting random things that make me smile. Here are a few samples from over the years:

-fixing something myself

-little kids who always put their clothes on backwards

-the sound of rain on a tent

-being missed

-ferris wheels

-the mysteries of old suitcases

-a well stacked wood pile

-really wide scarves

-peppermint essential oil

-fog

-rearranging furniture

-reinventing leftovers into something new and delicious

-finding strange t-shirts in thrift stores

-red shoes

-people with soft eyes

-the warm spots cats leave behind when they move

-dependable pens

-dependable people

On not knowing.

It’s a year of taking risks for me. I did something expensive and time-consuming in January earlier this year to fulfill a dream I’ve had for almost ten years, by taking time off work to travel to Costa Rica to complete my 200 hour yoga teacher training. 

It didn’t make sense. I have a job- one that I really love. I didn’t really even know what I wanted out of doing the training, but I knew that this practice of yoga has brought me back to my Self again and again when I have felt lost. I wanted to deepen my practice and feel equipped to share it with others. I wasn’t sure if I would actually end up teaching or what would happen, but my intuition told me it was time to do this for myself. 

I met amazing people from all over the world, had a tarantula run over my foot while I ate supper, almost died (pretty sure) white water tubing, saw a scorpion fall from the studio beams narrowly missing a fellow yogi’s head, swam with bioluminescent algae in the ocean under a beautiful moon, and got a lot of really stiff muscles. I learned ancient philosophy, meditated on the beach (it’s really hard to sit still and breathe for 20 minutes), and practiced teaching yoga. Suffice it to say, there were many new experiences. 

Not knowing what I was in for was really not so scary when I allowed myself to be present each moment and open to the experiences. Fear is mostly created out of what our minds construct based on the past, or hypotheses about the future. We are rarely actually in danger most of the time. Discomfort, maybe. Danger, generally not (except for the tubing- that was not cool). 

Discomfort can be worked with and moved through with the natural resources our brain and body already possess. Just like my body and brain naturally knew how to heal my stiff muscles, and build them to become stronger, our systems do have a natural capacity to heal from stress and dis-ease. When we become disconnected from this, there are things that can help us to recover, which is what my work is all about and why I love it. 

When I got back from Costa Rica, I came across this and wrote it on a chalkboard so I would keep coming back to it:  “Do not move the way fear makes you move. Move the way love makes you move. Move the way joy makes you move.” -Osho

When I become attached to “knowing”- that is, being able to predict and control every facet of what comes next- I rob myself of the freedom to move with joy and spontaneity, the way kids dance. I become more concerned with the way others may judge or perceive me and the risk of failure. I restrict my options and the possibilities open to me. Being okay with not knowing opens doors and allows for positive change to happen. Even really random things, like maybe trying a food you thought you hated again. I don’t know why I used to hate asparagus and now I like it, but that’s cool and I’m going with it.

Moving from joy and love has led to some pretty good experiences. It leads to taking risks and being vulnerable, but every time it brings growth and connection. As much as I like learning and “knowing”, there’s something to be said for “not knowing”.

Inside my Brain, Doing Something Scary: Working with the parts of Self

I often refer to different parts of Self in counselling, and inevitably people look at me wondering if I think they are crazy. I don’t. The reality is that we all have different parts of ourselves, and these parts help to protect us, manage a range of situations and, sometimes, carry heavy burdens like grief and traumatic memories. Sometimes a certain part can be really strong and overwhelming, resulting in a feeling of imbalance or decision making that isn’t actually consistent with what we really want for ourselves. Lots of times, people will point to their heads and say “I KNOW it, but I don’t feel it.” There is something (a part) blocking the ability to feel fully present and congruent. 

I got thinking about this at the worst time. It involved being on a steep (at least to me) trail in the mountains on a really expensive bike that didn’t belong to me. This weekend I did an amazing women’s mountain biking workshop. Mountain biking terrifies me. It hurts when you fall. And I did. Multiple times. But it also has always looked so fun and exciting to me, and I love being outdoors, even more so if it’s in the mountains. On a whim, after one too many cups of coffee, I hit “buy” on the workshop website ticket purchasing button. Then I spent the next several weeks cursing myself and thinking of reasons why it was a terrible idea, while a little part of me said “I’m excited”. This was the part I allowed to speak out loud. The other parts had to stay quiet, except for one part which copes through humour and delivered many self deprecating jokes about my own imminent destruction. 

I became really aware of my own internal parts of Self through this experience. There was a hard core, super determined type A part that drives me to achieve difficult things. This part has come in handy to get me through school, but sometimes results in me being exhausted when it gets out of balance. 

A panicky, life preserving part that forsaw impending doom around the next corner suggested I might walk down the hill and call it a day. There was a part that whispered, “you can’t do this. You’re not strong enough, not brave enough, not coordinated enough. What were you thinking? You should be home watching Netflix.” This part has been around for a long time, and carries burdens like not being able to swing all the way across the monkey bars in elementary school, being told I had poor hand eye coordination by my volleyball coach when I was 12, and feeling embarrassed to wear a bathing suit as a teenager. This part cringes as I write this, as it doesn’t want anyone to know about these shameful experiences and feelings of failure. Yet, I know it has always tried to protect me, and it’s intention is to maintain my dignity by not making myself too vulnerable. Yet out of balance, it can rob me of adventures and opportunities to learn new things, which inherently requires vulnerability.

Then there’s Self. I believe we all have a core true Self that is curious, compassionate, courageous, creative, and connected. We can relate to our inner parts from this Self. Self told me, “hey you’re trying something new and hard. You’re not going to be perfect the first time and that’s cool. You’re doing awesome.” In short, Self says, “it’s okay to feel what you feel, and we can get through this”. Also, “you can do more than you think you can, cause you already have.” It’s helpful under stressful circumstances to have other people around that mirror the voice of Self, and I was grateful for that this weekend, when some of those internal parts were screaming at me. 

This framework is from Internal Family Systems Therapy, which is one of the theoretical models I draw from in my counselling practice. I like it because it recognizes that we do what we do for a reason, it was probably adaptive at some point, and might be still in some circumstances. We are not wrong, or crazy, or bad, when a part of us gets a little overpowering; it just might need to chill out a bit and let Self back in the drivers seat.