Fear

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  The perception of an actual threat signals danger, as does the activated state (even without the perception). You get the message that you are in danger not only through what you actually see (even peripherally), but through sensations that come from the unconscious visceral experience of your physiological state. The threatening person coming toward you signals danger, but so does the fact that your body is responding with an increased heartbeat, tightened stomach muscles, a heightened and constricted awareness of the immediate environment, and altered muscle tone (in general). When the energy of this highly activated state is not discharged, the organism concludes that it is still in danger. The effect of that perception on the organism is that it continues to re-stimulate the nervous system in order to maintain and augment that level of preparedness and arousal. When this occurs the debilitating symptoms of trauma are born. The nervous system activates all its physiological and biochemical mechanisms for dealing with threat, yet it cannot sustain this heightened level of arousal without the opportunity or means to respond effectively. The nervous system alone is incapable of discharging energy. This creates a self-perpetuating cycle of activation that will overload the system if it continues indefinitely. The organism must find a way out of the cycle created by the perception of danger and the accompanying arousal in order to regain its equilibrium. Failure to do so leads to pathology and debilitation as the organism compensates for its aroused state through the manifestations that are now recognized as the symptoms of trauma. Symptoms The nervous system compensates for being in a state of self-perpetuating arousal by setting off a chain of adaptations that eventually bind and organize the energy into “symptoms.” These adaptations function as a safety valve to the nervous system. The first symptoms of trauma usually appear shortly after the event that engendered them. Others will develop over time. As I mentioned earlier, trauma symptoms are energetic phenomena that serve the organism by providing an organized way to manage and bind the tremendous energy contained in both the original and the self-perpetuated response to threat. Due to the uniqueness of each individual’s experience, it would be a prohibitive task to compile a complete list of every known trauma symptom. However, there are symptoms that are indicators of trauma be-cause they are common to most traumatized people. In spite of the vast diversity of possibilities available to it, the nervous system does seem to favor some symptoms over others. Generally, some traumatic symptoms are more likely to appear sooner than others. In the last chapter we discussed the first symptoms to develop. (the core of the traumatic reaction):  hyperarousal  constriction  dissociation (including denial)  feelings of helplessness Other early symptoms that begin to show up at the same time or shortly after those above are:  hypervigilance (being “on guard” at all times)  intrusive imagery or flashbacks  extreme sensitivity to light and sound  hyperactivity

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  “I don’t believe Hugo is capable of an open marriage.” “But he’s capable of having an affair!” Bogner seemed to nod, or was she just catching a stitch in her knitting? The analyst then raised her face and looked directly at Anaïs with her functioning eye. “Can you ask Hugo for a divorce now?” “So he can marry his mistress without me in the way? Absolutely not!” “Are you prepared to divorce Rupert?” “No, I need Rupert more than ever now that Hugo has a mistress!” The solution of an open marriage that could release Anaïs from her abiding guilt and terror of discovery had appeared like a strip of film through Hugo’s editing machine window and then flown out with a zip. She had no choice but to continue on the trapeze. [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] Anaïs was alone in the apartment, and Hugo was out late again, probably dancing with his young mistress. The phone rang. A nurse at New York Hospital said, “Mrs. Guiler, I’m sorry to tell you your husband has been in an accident.” No! Please God, not Hugo! Not after Peter’s death. “He’s going to be alright, Mrs. Guiler. Given he’s in traction.” It took her a while to sort out that Hugo had fallen from kicking too high in class and had fractured a leg. The next morning, Anaïs arrived at Hugo’s hospital room and spent the day with him, waiting to face down the mistress who never showed. A week later, when Hugo and a traction apparatus were delivered to the apartment, there had still been no sign of the young woman who likely was gyrating with someone else now. Once Hugo and his pain pills and bedpan were hers to deal with, Anaïs almost wished the mistress would claim him. Millie had gone, inconveniently, on her Christmas leave, and Anaïs found herself having to feed and nurse him day and night. There was nothing to do but turn Hugo’s helplessness into an opportunity. She rented a nurse’s cap and mini-skirted white uniform from a costume store and wore it with high heels to attend to him. After several weeks of her flirtatious ministrations, their marriage settled into an affectionate, unspoken understanding that she would continue her periodic trips to Los Angeles and he would hold onto her by remaining in denial. Anaïs resolved that from then on she would be not just a liar, but the best liar; not just desirable, but unforgettable; not just a bigamist, but the most wonderful wife any two men could imagine, so that neither would ever wander from her again. That was, unfortunately, when Rupert phoned at 1:20 a.m. Anaïs, who had been sleeping on the daybed in Hugo’s office, picked up the receiver. She could hear Hugo pick up the other line from his hospital bed in the master bedroom. She knew he could hear Rupert’s drunken rant. “Tell me the truth, Anaïs! Are you still living with Hugo?”

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Nor did he have long to wait before the two painters brought him the news of his election to the company. On the morning of the day appointed for the next meeting of the society, the Master invited the pair of them to breakfast, and after the meal he asked them how he was to get there, to which Buffalmacco replied: ‘See here, Master, for reasons you are now about to hear, you will have to be very brave, otherwise you may run into trouble and make things very awkward for us. This evening, after dark, you must contrive to climb up on to one of the raised tombs 19 that were erected just recently outside Santa Maria Novella, wearing one of your most sumptuous robes, for not only does the company require you to be nobly dressed when you are presented for the first time, but since you are gently bred, the Countess is proposing (or so we have been told, for we have never actually met her) to make you a Knight of the Bath 20 at her own expense. And you are to remain on the tomb till we send for you. ‘Now, so that you will know exactly what to expect, I should explain that we shall be sending a black creature with horns to come and fetch you, which, though not very large, will attempt to frighten you by parading up and down before you in the piazza, leaping high in the air, and making loud hissing noises. When it sees that you are not afraid, it will come silently towards you, and as soon as it has drawn near to where you are sitting, you must clamber boldly down from the tomb, and, without invoking God or any of the Saints, leap on to its back. Once you are seated firmly on its back, you must fold your arms across your chest and leave them there, for you mustn’t touch the beast with your hands. ‘It will then move slowly off, and convey you to the place where we are all assembled; but I must stress here and now that if you invoke God or any of the Saints, or if you display any fear, you could be thrown off or dashed against something, and then you really will be in a stinking mess. So unless you’re quite sure that your courage won’t desert you, I advise you not to come, for you would only do yourself an injury and bring no credit to ourselves.’ ‘You don’t know me yet,’ said the physician. ‘Perhaps it’s because I wear gloves and long robes that you doubt my courage. But if I were to tell you about some of my nocturnal escapades in Bologna, when I used to go after the women with my companions, you’d be lost in admiration.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Large quantities of refuse were cleared out of the city by officials specially appointed for the purpose, all sick persons were forbidden entry, and numerous instructions were issued for safeguarding the people’s health, but all to no avail. Nor were the countless petitions humbly directed to God by the pious, whether by means of formal processions or in all other ways, any less ineffectual. For in the early spring of the year we have mentioned, the plague began, in a terrifying and extraordinary manner, to make its disastrous effects apparent. It did not take the form it had assumed in the East, where if anyone bled from the nose it was an obvious portent of certain death. On the contrary, its earliest symptom, in men and women alike, was the appearance of certain swellings in the groin or the armpit, some of which were egg-shaped whilst others were roughly the size of the common apple. Sometimes the swellings were large, sometimes not so large, and they were referred to by the populace as gavòccioli . From the two areas already mentioned, this deadly gavòcciolo would begin to spread, and within a short time it would appear at random all over the body. Later on, the symptoms of the disease changed, and many people began to find dark blotches and bruises on their arms, thighs, and other parts of the body, sometimes large and few in number, at other times tiny and closely spaced. These, to anyone unfortunate enough to contract them, were just as infallible a sign that he would die as the gavòcciolo had been earlier, and as indeed it still was. Against these maladies, it seemed that all the advice of physicians and all the power of medicine were profitless and unavailing. Perhaps the nature of the illness was such that it allowed no remedy: or perhaps those people who were treating the illness (whose numbers had increased enormously because the ranks of the qualified were invaded by people, both men and women, who had never received any training in medicine), being ignorant of its causes, were not prescribing the appropriate cure. At all events, few of those who caught it ever recovered, and in most cases death occurred within three days from the appearance of the symptoms we have described, some people dying more rapidly than others, the majority without any fever or other complications. But what made this pestilence even more severe was that whenever those suffering from it mixed with people who were still unaffected, it would rush upon these with the speed of a fire racing through dry or oily substances that happened to come within its reach.

• From Apprenticed to Venus: My Secret Life with Anaïs Nin (2017)

  “Oh, don’t be scared, Anaïs. You’ll probably just go to federal prison, and I hear they’re like country clubs. Neither Hugo nor Rupert will visit you after being publicly humiliated, but Tristine and I will, won’t we?” Renate turned to me. She had succeeded in scaring me, too. “It’s not fair!” Anaïs cried. “Now the law is keeping me trapped. I’m a writer. I need to publish when I have the chance!” “I agree it’s unfair,” Renate continued, “and so is firing teachers for being homosexual, but it’s happening every day. What’s to stop them from firing Rupert for moral turpitude when they learn about your mariage a trois?” Anaïs put her hands over her ears. “I’m not going to listen to you, Renate. You’re just angry that I didn’t tell you about my change of plans sooner. I was so caught up in the happiness of the moment with Rupert in this house that I forgot about you and Tristine. I let you suffer with guilt unnecessarily.” “And just for the sake of your vanity!” Renate cried. “Not wanting us to see your new house until you had it fixed up.” Anaïs put her hands together in supplication. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” Renate turned her head away and looked around the room instead of meeting Anaïs’s eyes. I could tell she’d accepted Anaïs’s apology, however, because she softened her voice. “The house is very nice, by the way.” [image file=image_rsrc3R3.jpg] I wasn’t ready to give up my fantasy of moving to Paris and bringing Neal along, even though Anaïs appeared to have changed her mind. I simply jiggered my fantasy so that Henry Miller entered the frame. I imagined that when Anaïs and I visited him he would see how enchantingly beautiful she still was and realize that nothing could ever equal their passion. They would run away together back to Paris and live on Henry’s royalties from Tropic of Cancer. Then Neal and I would join them in Paris and the four of us would pal around; and Neal, after long bouts of copulation with me, would play the sax; and I would write, and Anaïs and Henry would argue over my writing in bistros, observers envying our foursome’s joie de vivre. In reality, Neal hadn’t answered my letters for over a month. Renate assured me that the sickening pain in my gut would lessen and eventually go away, but every time I thought about him forgetting me and enjoying himself with a more congenial woman who wasn’t possessive, the same hobnailed boot rammed my solar plexus. A few days later, I was returning empty-handed from checking the mail when I heard my phone ring upstairs and sprinted up the courtyard steps, hoping against hope it was Neal. But it was Anaïs calling to say that if I wanted to meet Henry Miller, I should be at her house in Silver Lake the following morning. Rupert would drive us together to Henry’s house in Pacific Palisades.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Their punishment consists in their enacting, over and over again, the horrifying scene to which Nastagio is the reluctant witness. Nastagio turns the situation to his advantage. On the following Friday he invites his kinsfolk and the lady he loves to a banquet in the selfsame clearing in the woods, where, to the consternation of his guests, the gruesome scene is enacted all over again. Being terrified at the prospect of suffering a similar fate, the lady repents of her haughty indifference towards Nastagio and places herself entirely at his disposal. His intentions towards her being impeccable, he proposes marriage, to which the girl promptly agrees, and they settle down to a long and happy life together. The message of the story seems to be that no woman should unreasonably withhold her consent to the advances of an ardent wooer, for by behaving like a saint she may discover she is a sinner, and consequently suffer the torments of Hell for her cruel inflexibility. Although parts of the tale have antecedents in medieval literature, the manner of its telling and the conclusion to which it leads are very far removed from anything to be found, for instance, in the Commedia , of which one is constantly reminded by the unusually large number of Dantesque allusions that are woven into the fabric of this novella. There is, for instance, a clear link between the names of the two protagonists and a passage where Dante regrets the decline and extinction of the Traversari and Anastagi families of Ravenna, who once embodied all that was best and most noble in the medieval tradition of love and courtesy: … la casa Traversara e li Anastagi (e l’una gente e l’altra gente è diretata), le donne e’ cavalier, li affanni e li agi che ne ’nvogliava amore e cortesia… 40 Then again, the pinewood at Classe, near Ravenna, where the pitiless hunt is enacted in Boccaccio’s tale, serves as the terrestrial point of comparison in Dante’s description ( Purgatorio , XXVIII) of the wood constituting his vision of the Earthly Paradise. The description of the fleeing damsel and of the two fierce mastiffs tearing at her flesh is clearly modelled on a famous passage from canto XIII of Inferno , where Dante recounts the gruesome punishments meted out, in the Wood of the Suicides, to one of a pair of scialacquatori , or profligates. And the story contains numerous other verbal borrowings from well-known passages in Dante’s poem. But the use Boccaccio makes of his borrowings from Dante is arresting inasmuch as it frequently involves the deliberate distortion or even reversal of the semantic values of what has been borrowed. 41 By no stretch of the imagination would it be possible to conceive that Dante would so manipulate the elements of a macabre infernal vision as to reach the conclusion presented by Boccaccio in the tale of Nastagio degli Onesti, where the traditional conception of the afterworld is set upon its head.

• From Adam, Eve, and the Serpent (1988)

  3Now the serpent was more subtle than any other wild creature that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, “Did God say, ‘You shall not eat of any tree of the garden’?” 2And the woman said to the serpent, “We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the garden; 3but God said, ‘You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, neither shall you touch it, lest you die.’ ” 4But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not die. 5For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” 6So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, and he ate. 7Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves aprons. 8 And they heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. 9But the Lord God called to the man, and said to him, “Where are you?” 10And he said, “I heard the sound of thee in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.” 11He said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten of the tree of which I commanded you not to eat?” 12The man said, “The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me fruit of the tree, and I ate.” 13Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent beguiled me, and I ate.” 14The Lord God said to the serpent, “Because you have done this, cursed are you above all cattle, and above all wild animals; upon your belly you shall go, and dust you shall eat all the days of your life. 15I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” 16To the woman he said, “I will greatly multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children, yet your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” 17And to Adam he said, “Because you have listened to the voice of your wife, and have eaten of the tree of which I commanded you, ‘You shall not eat of it,’ cursed is the ground because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life;

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  A child who sees the bird’s collision with the glass may have a hard time keeping away from the wounded animal. The child may pick the bird up out of curiosity, concern, or a desire to help. The warmth of the child’s hands can facilitate the bird’s return to normal functioning. As the bird begins to tremble, it will show signs that it is reorienting to its surroundings. It may stagger slightly, try to regain its balance, and look around. If the bird is not injured and is allowed to go through the trembling- reorienting process without interruption, it can move through its immobilization and fly away without being traumatized. If the trembling is interrupted, the animal may suffer serious consequences. If the child tries to pet the animal when it begins to show signs of life, the reorienting process may be disrupted, propelling the bird back into shock. If the discharge process is repeatedly disturbed, each successive state of shock will last longer. As a result, the bird may die of frigh t - overwhelmed by its own helplessness. Although we rarely die, humans suffer when we are unable to discharge the energy that is locked in by the freezing response. The traumatized veteran, the rape survivor, the abused child, the impala, and the bird all have been confronted by overwhelming situations. If they are unable to orient and choose between fight or flight, they will freeze or collapse. Those who are able to discharge that energy will be restored. Rather than moving through the freezing response, as animals do routinely, humans often begin a downward spiral characterized by an increasingly debilitating constellation of symptoms. To move through trauma we need quietness, safety, and protection similar to that offered the bird in the gentle warmth of the child’s hands. We need support from friends and relatives, as well as from nature. With this support and connection, we can begin to trust and honor the natural process that will bring us to completion and wholeness, and eventually peace. Oliver Sacks, the author of Awakenings, The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat, and Migraine, describes in the third of these books the compelling attacks of several patients. Migraines are a nervous system stress reaction that is quite similar and often related to post-traumatic (freezing) reactions. Sacks gives a fascinating account of a mathematician with a weekly migraine cycle. On Wednesday the mathematician would get nervous and irritable. By Thursday or Friday the stress would worsen so much that he was unable to work. On Saturday he would become greatly agitated, and on Sunday he would have a full-blown migraine attack. By that afternoon, however, the migraine dissipated and died away. In the wake of the migraine discharge, the man experienced a creative, hopeful rebirth. On Monday and Tuesday he would feel refreshed, rejuvenated, and renewed. Calm and creative, he would work effectively until Wednesday, when the irritability started again and the whole cycle would repeat.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Mrs. Thayer, a character in “The Wind Chill Factor,” a short story by M.K. Fischer, provides a vivid and accurate example of how hypervigilance operates. Mrs. Thayer is a physician who is staying alone in a friend’s cottage on the ocean during a severe winter blizzard. She “is comfortable and warm and apparently unconcerned with possible consequences of the storm as she drifts off to sleep. Before dawn she is wrenched into the conscious world, as cruelly as if she had been grabbed by the long hairs of her head.” Her heart is pounding against her throat. Her body is hot, but her hands feel cold and clammy. She is in a state of pure panic. It has nothing to do, she reasons, with physical fear. “She was not afraid of being alone, or of being on the dunes in the storm. She was not afraid of bodily attack, rape, all tha t… She was simply in panic.” Mrs. Thayer fights an overwhelming urge to flee by telling herself “It is here [in the house] that I shall survive it or else run out howling across the dunes and die soon in the waves and wind.” It is obvious that Mrs. Thayer’s panic has an internal source. To paraphrase Dostoevski in Notes from the Undergroun d ; no one can live without being able to explain to themselves what is happening to them, and if one day they should no longer be able to explain anything to themselves, they would say they had gone mad, and this would be for them the last explanation left. Dostoevski’s sentiment has been echoed by modern-day psychologist Paul Zimbardo, who writes “Most mental illness represents, not a cognitive impairment, but an [attempted] interpretation of discontinuous or inexplicable internal states.” Most people regard inexplicable experiences as something which must be explained. Mrs. Thayer’s need to find the source of her panic is a normal biological response to an intense internal arousal. Indeed, the purpose of the orienting response is to identify the unknown in our experience. This is especially important when the unknown may be a threat. When we are unable to correctly identify what is threatening us, all trauma sufferers unwittingly set our own traps.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

   Surgery, particularly tonsillectomies with ether; operations for ear problems and for so-called ”lazy eye”  Anesthesia  Prolonged immobilization; the casting and splinting of young children’s legs or torsos for various reasons (turned-in feet, scoliosis) The fact that hospitalizations and medical procedures routinely produce traumatic results comes as a surprise to many people. The traumatic aftereffects from prolonged immobilization, hospitalizations, and especially surgeries are often long-lasting and severe. Even though a person may recognize that an operation is necessary, and despite the fact that they are unconscious as the surgeon cuts through flesh, muscle, and bone, it still registers in the body as a life-threatening event. On the “cellular level” the body perceives that it has sustained a wound serious enough to place it in mortal danger. Intellectually, we may believe in an operation, but on a primal level, our bodies do not. Where trauma is concerned, the perception of the instinctual nervous system carries more weigh t much more. This biological fact is a primary reason why surgery will often produce a post-traumatic reaction. In an “ordinary” story from the July, 1993 edition of Reader’s Digest entitled “Everything is not Okay,” a father describes his son Robbie’s “minor” knee surgery: The doctor tells me that everything is okay. The knee is fine, but everything is not okay for the boy waking up in a drug-induced nightmare, thrashing around on his hospital be d— a sweet boy who never hurt anybody, staring out from his anesthetic haze with the eyes of a wild animal, striking the nurse, screaming “Am I alive?” and forcing me to grab his arm s… staring right into my eyes and not knowing who I am. The boy is taken home, but his fear continues. He awakes fitfully…”only to try to vomit and I [the father] go crazy trying to be useful, so I do what you do in the suburban United State s— buy your kid a toy so that you’ll feel better.” Millions of parents are left feeling helpless, unable to understand the dramatic (or subtle) changes in their children’s behavior following a wide range of traumatic events. In Section Four we will discuss how to prevent these reactions from occurring, both in adults and children. In a real sense all life is inter-related. All men are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the inter-related structure of reality. — Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. 5. Healing and Community Shamanic Approaches to Healing

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  “They cut the belly open and take out the inside and then cut the fur of f… t o… make pants and coats. Then they will carry the meat down to the village.” “Feel your pants, Marius, with your hands on your legs.” I continue to help him create a resource from the sensations in his legs. These resources can then build over time, gradually increasing the possibility of escape. (With Nancy, recall it was all or none.) Tears form in his eyes. “Can you do this?” I ask. “I don’t kno w… I’m scared.” “Feel your legs, feel your pants.” He shouts in Eskimo, dramatically, in an increasing pitch. “…Yes, I cut the belly open, there is lots of bloo d… I take out the insides. Now I cut the skin, I rip it off, there is glistening and shimmering. It is a beautiful fur, thick and soft. It will be very warm. Marius’ body again shakes with tremors of excitement, strength, and conquest. The activation/arousal is quite intense and visible throughout his body. It is approaching a level similar to that when he was attacked by the dogs. “How do you feel, Marius?” “I’m a little scare d… I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this much strong feelin g… I think it’s oka y… really I feel mostly very powerful and filled with an energy, I think I can trust thi s… I don’t kno w… it’s strong.” “Feel your legs, feel your feet, touch the pants with your hands.” “Yes, I feel calmer now, not so much of a rus h… it’s more like strength.” “Okay, yes, good. Now start walking down, back towards the village.” (I am directing the newly resourced man towards the traumatic moment.) A few minutes pass, then Marius’ trunk flexes and he holds still. His heart rate accelerates, and his face reddens. “I see the dogs . . . they’re coming at me.” “Feel your legs, Marius, touch the pants,” I demand sharply. “Feel your legs and look. What is happening?” “I am turning, turning away. I see the dogs. I see a pole, an electricity pole. I am turning towards it. I didn’t know that I remembered this.” Marius pales. “I’m getting weak.” “Feel the pants, Marius,” I command, “feel the pants with your hands.” “I’m running.” His color returns. “I can feel my leg s… they’re strong, like on the rocks.” Again he pales and yells out: “Agh !… my leg, it burns like fir e… I can’t move, I’m trying, but I can’t mov e… I can’ t… I can’t move, it’s numb no w… my leg is numb, I can’t feel it.” “Turn, Marius. Turn to the dog. Look at it.”

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Renegotiation helps to restore those resources that were diminished in the wake of trauma. The overall strategy of renegotiation is as follows: the first step is to develop a facility with the felt sense. Once this is developed, we can surrender to the currents of our feelings, which include trembling and other spontaneous discharges of energy. We can use the felt sense to uncouple the maladaptive attachment between excitement and fear. Because excitement is charged and we want to maintain that charge as free and distinct from anxiety, we must also be able to ground it. Resilient strength is the opposite of helplessness. The tree is made strong and resilient by its grounded root system. These roots take nourishment from the ground and grow strong. Grounding also allows the tree to be resilient so that it can yield to the winds of change and not be uprooted. Springiness is the facility to ground and “unground” in a rhythmical way. This buoyancy is a dynamic form of grounding. Aggressiveness is the biological ability to be vigorous and energetic, especially when using instinct and force. In the immobility (traumatized) state, these assertive energies are inaccessible. The restoration of healthy aggression is an essential part in the recovery from trauma. Empowerment is the acceptance of personal authority. It derives from the capacity to choose the direction and execution of one’s own energies. Mastery is the possession of skillful techniques in dealing successfully with threat. Orientation is the process of ascertaining one’s position relative to both circumstance and environment. In these ways the residue of trauma is renegotiated. Because every injury exists within life and life is constantly renewing itself, within every injury is the seed of healing and renewal. At the moment our skin is cut or punctured by a foreign object, a magnificent and precise series of biochemical events is orchestrated through evolutionary wisdom. The body has been designed to renew itself through continuous self-correction. These same principles also apply to the healing of psyche, spirit, and soul. II. Symptoms of Trauma 10. The Core of the Traumatic Reaction Arousa l— What Goes Up Must Come Down When we perceive danger or sense that we are threatened, we become aroused. Arousal is the activity that energizes our survival responses. Imagine you are standing at the edge of a steep cliff. As you look down, observe the jagged rocks below. Now, notice what you are experiencing in your body. In this situation, most people will become aroused in some way. Many of us will experience a rush of energy which may be felt as a flash of heat or an increased heart rate. You may notice a tightening of throat and anal sphincter muscles. Others may feel exhilarated by the close proximity to danger and find it challenging.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  They found their fox in the very first cover and went away over the wide, bare meadows. As Raftery leapt forward her curious fancies gained strength, and now they began to obsess her. She fancied that she was being pursued, that the hounds were behind her instead of ahead, that the flushed, bright-eyed people were hunting her down, ruthless, implacable untiring people—they were many and she was one solitary creature with every man’s hand against her. To escape them she suddenly took her own line, putting Raftery over some perilous places; but he, nothing loath, stretched his muscles to their utmost, landing safely—yet always she imagined pursuit, and now it was the world that had turned against her. The whole world was hunting her down with hatred, with a fierce, remorseless will to destruction—the world against one insignificant creature who had nowhere to turn for pity or protection. Her heart tightened with fear, she was terribly afraid of those flushed, bright-eyed people who were hard on her track. She, who had never lacked physical courage in her life, was now actually sweating with terror, and Raftery divining her terror sped on, faster and always faster. Then Stephen saw something just ahead, and it moved. Checking Raftery sharply she stared at the thing. A crawling, bedraggled streak of red fur, with tongue lolling, with agonized lungs filled to bursting, with the desperate eyes of the hopelessly pursued, bright with terror and glancing now this way now that as though looking for something; and the thought came to Stephen: ‘It’s looking for God Who made it.’ At that moment she felt an imperative need to believe that the stricken beast had a Maker, and her own eyes grew bright, but with blinding tears because of her mighty need to believe, a need that was sharper than physical pain, being born of the pain of the spirit. The thing was dragging its brush in the dust, it was limping, and Stephen sprang to the ground. She held out her hands to the unhappy creature, filled with the will to succour and protect it, but the fox mistrusted her merciful hands, and it crept away into a little coppice. And now in a deathly and awful silence the hounds swept past her, their muzzles to ground. After them galloped Colonel Antrim, crouching low in his saddle, avoiding the branches, and after him came a couple of huntsmen with the few bold riders who had stayed that stiff run. Then a savage clamour broke out in the coppice as the hounds gave tongue in their wild jubilation, and Stephen well knew that that sound meant death—very slowly she remounted Raftery.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  In a field on the right worked three very old women; they were hoeing with a diligent and fatalistic patience. At any moment a stray shell might burst and then, presto! little left of the very old women. But what will you? There is war—there has been war so long—one must eat, even under the noses of the Germans; the bon Dieu knows this, He alone can protect—so meanwhile one just goes on diligently hoeing. A blackbird was singing to himself in a tree, the tree was horribly maimed and blasted; all the same he had known it the previous spring and so now, in spite of its wounds, he had found it. Came a sudden lull when they heard him distinctly. And Mary saw him: ‘Look,’ she said, ‘there’s a blackbird!’ Just for a moment she forgot about war. Yet Stephen could now very seldom forget, and this was because of the girl at her side. A queer, tight feeling would come round her heart, she would know the fear that can go hand in hand with personal courage, the fear for another. But now she looked down for a moment and smiled: ‘Bless that blackbird for letting you see him, Mary.’ She knew that Mary loved little, wild birds, that indeed she loved all the humbler creatures. They turned into a lane and were comparatively safe, but the roar of the guns had grown much more insistent. They must be nearing the Poste de Secours, so they spoke very little because of those guns, and after a while because of the wounded. 3The Poste de Secours was a ruined auberge at the cross-roads, about fifty yards behind the trenches. From what had once been its spacious cellar, they were hurriedly carrying up the wounded, maimed and mangled creatures who, a few hours ago, had been young and vigorous men. None too gently the stretchers were lowered to the ground beside the two waiting ambulances—none too gently because there were so many of them, and because there must come a time in all wars when custom stales even compassion.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Andreuccio, hearing this, raised his eyes and saw at the window one who, by what little he could make out, himseemed should be a very masterful fellow, with a bushy black beard on his face, and who yawned and rubbed his eyes, as he had arisen from bed or deep sleep; whereupon, not without fear, he answered, 'I am a brother of the lady of the house.' The other waited not for him to make an end of his reply, but said, more fiercely than before, 'I know not what hindereth me from coming down and cudgelling thee what while I see thee stir, for a pestilent drunken ass as thou must be, who will not let us sleep this night.' Then, drawing back into the house, he shut the window; whereupon certain of the neighbours, who were better acquainted with the fellow's quality, said softly to Andreuccio, 'For God's sake, good man, begone in peace and abide not there to-night to be slain; get thee gone for thine own good.' Andreuccio, terrified at the fellow's voice and aspect and moved by the exhortations of the neighbours, who seemed to him to speak out of charity, set out to return to his inn, in the direction of the quarter whence he had followed the maid, without knowing whither to go, despairing of his money and woebegone as ever man was. Being loathsome to himself, for the stench that came from him, and thinking to repair to the sea to wash himself, he turned to the left and followed a street called Ruga Catalana,[101] that led towards the upper part of the city. Presently, he espied two men coming towards him with a lantern and fearing they might be officers of the watch or other ill-disposed folk, he stealthily took refuge, to avoid them, in a hovel, that he saw hard by. But they, as of malice aforethought, made straight for the same place and entering in, began to examine certain irons which one of them laid from off his shoulder, discoursing various things thereof the while. [Footnote 101: _i.e._ Catalan Street.]

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  If, in contrast, the body/mind succeeds in locating the source of its distress (as in the example of Nancy in Chapter Two), the primitive need to identify some source of danger is satisfied. A natural, successful defensive response will then arise to complete the experience. For many of us, this is a giant step toward healing trauma. Typically, however, we use our cognitive abilities to push the matter further – to figure it out and give it a name (or remember it). In so doing we separate ourselves even further from the experience. In that separateness, the seeds of trauma have fertile ground in which to root and grow. The animal that is unable to locate a source of arousal will freeze rather than flee. When the freezing response begins to override Mrs. Thayer’s extreme im-pulse to flee, she rationalizes (using her neo-cortex) that she will die if she tries to escape the house. She is not only without explanation for her extreme physiological arousal, but she also sets up her own dilemma by convincing herself that if she escapes she will die. Mrs. Thayer then enters into a tight, self- made web of fear-induced immobility. Like the Chowchilla children (Chapter Two), Mrs. Thayer is more afraid to escape than to remain trapped. Her neo-cortex tries in vain to explain, while her reptilian brain compels her to act. In the clutch of her terror and self-defeating confusion, Mrs. Thayer will finally focus on her frantic breathing to the exclusion of all else. When she finally suspends her need to understand, she allows her reptilian brain to complete its course of actio n — that of discharging the extraordinary level of energy that has built up inside of her. We are not told why the energy is there. Perhaps even Mrs Thayer does not consciously know. Fortunately for her (and for us), it does not matter. By focusing on the felt sense of her own breath, Mrs Thayer discharges the energy that was the source of her panic attack. Can’t Synthesize New Informatio n/ Can’t Learn An inherent quality of hypervigilance is the absence of the normal orienting responses (Chapter Seven). This has serious ramifications for traumatized people. Primarily, it will impair our overall ability to function effectively in any situation, not just those that require active defense. Part of the function of the orienting response is to identify new information as we become aware of it. If this function is impaired, any amount of new information leads to confusion and overload. Instead of being assimilated and available for future use, new information tends to stack up. It becomes disorganized and unusable. Important pieces of data are misplaced or forgotten. The mind then becomes unable to organize details in a way that makes sense. Rather than retain information that does not make sense, the mind “forgets” it.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Unfortunately, humans often do not completely discharge the vast energies mobilized to protect themselves. Thus, when they enter the second phase, they are reviewing the event, but remain in a highly aroused state. This heightened energy level will not allow the “playful” reviewing to occur. Instead, they may experience often terrifying and compulsive flashbacks that are akin to reliving the event. In Chapter Sixteen, Scenario of Healing from an Accident, the most common response to incomplete discharge is addressed. A majority of people attempt to control their undischarged survival energy by internalizing it. Although this approach is more socially acceptable, it is no less violent than “acting out.” It is also no more effective in dealing with the highly charged activation. It is important for us to understand that the strategy of internalizing instinctive defensive procedures is a form of re-enactmen t- perhaps- it could be called “acting in.” To commit violence on oneself is the method preferred by our culture for several reasons. Obviously, it is easier to maintain a social structure that appears to be in control of itself. However, I think there is another, more compelling reaso n- by internalizing our natural propensity to resolve life-threatening events, we are denying that the need even exist s- it remains hidden. One of the positive aspects in the recent escalation of violent “acting out” is that it is forcing us to face the fact that post traumatic stress, whether it manifests as “acting in” or “acting out,” is a major health issue. Let’s look at an “acted out” scenario: While driving, you see a car coming directly toward you. Your body tenses instantly, then freezes as you feel panic. You brace yourself, feeling resigned to the unavoidable impact. You feel that you have lost control…then, at the last micro-second, you fight off the panic, and swerve out of the path of the oncoming car. As you pass by, you notice that the car is a Mercury Cougar. You pull over to the curb, and stop the car. Your heart is pounding wildly, and you are gasping for breath. As you try to regain control, you have a fleeting moment of “adrenaline rush,” followed by the intense sensation of high arousal. You are frightened by this energy, and feel yourself becoming angry. The anger helps. You focus your rage on the idiot that almost got you killed. Heart and mind still racing, you notice your ice-cold hands are still glued to the steering wheel. You imagine strangling the idiot with all your might. Still wound up, images of the event begin to flash before your eyes. (the second phase begins, but you are still highly charged). The panicky feeling returns, and your heart beats rapidly. You are losing control, and you feel the anger return. Anger has become your frien d- it helps you maintain some semblance of control.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Finally, however, with the approach of evening, the scholar, feeling he had done enough, sent for her clothes and wrapped them in his servant’s cloak, after which he made his way to the hapless lady’s house, where he found her maid sitting sadly and forlornly on the doorstep, not knowing what she should do. ‘My good woman,’ he said, ‘tell me, what has become of your mistress?’ ‘Sir,’ replied the maidservant, ‘I cannot rightly say. I was convinced that I saw her going to bed last night, and thought I should find her there this morning. But she was nowhere to be seen, and I have no idea what has become of her. I am dreadfully worried about her, but perhaps you, sir, have brought me some news of her whereabouts?’ ‘Would to God,’ replied the scholar, ‘that I had been able to put you in the place where I have put your mistress, so that I could punish you for your sins as I have punished your mistress for hers! But I assure you that you shan’t escape from my clutches until I have paid you back with so much interest that you’ll never make a fool of any man again without remembering me first.’ Then, turning to his servant, he said: ‘Give her these clothes and tell her to go and fetch her, if she wants to.’ The servant did as he was bidden, and the maid, having seized the clothes from his hands, and recognized them, turned pale with terror, strongly suspecting, in view of what she had been told, that they had murdered her. Scarcely able to prevent herself from screaming, she burst into tears, and, the scholar having now departed, she immediately set off at a run towards the tower, with the clothes under her arm. That same afternoon, a swineherd from the lady’s estate had had the misfortune to lose two of his pigs, and, searching all over for them, he arrived at the tower shortly after the scholar had left. Peering into every nook and cranny to see whether his pigs were anywhere to be found, he heard the unfortunate lady’s despairing moans, and climbing as far up the tower as he could, he called out: ‘Who is it that is crying up there?’ Recognizing the swineherd’s voice, the lady called to him by name, and said: ‘Alas! go fetch my maid and tell her to come up here.’ ‘Oh my God!’ he exclaimed, seeing who it was. ‘How ever did you get up there, ma’am? Your maid has been searching high and low for you the whole day. But who would have thought of looking for you here?’ Seizing the ladder by the two uprights, he set it in the proper position and began to tie on the rungs by means of withies.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  Since the nervous system only recognizes that the threat has passed when the mobilized energy has been discharged, it will keep mobilizing energy indefinitely until the discharge happens. At the same time, the nervous system recognizes that the amount of energy in the system is too much for the organism to handle and it applies a brake so powerful that the entire organism shuts down on the spot. With the organism completely immobilized, the tremendous energy in the nervous system is held in check. The helplessness that is experienced at such times is not the ordinary sense of helplessness that can affect anyone from time to time. The sense of being completely immobilized and helpless is not a perception, belief, or a trick of the imagination. It is real. The body cannot move. This is abject helplessnes s — a sense of paralysis so profound that the person cannot scream, move, or feel. Of the four key components that form the core of the traumatic reaction, helplessness is the one you are least likely to have experienced, unless you have suffered an overwhelming threat to your life. Yet, this profound sense of helplessness is nearly always present in the early stages of “overwhelm” resulting from a traumatic event. If you closely examine your reactions to the three scenarios in the exercise at the beginning of the chapter, you may be able to identify a very mild version of helplessness. When the event is real and unfolding in a truly disastrous way, the effect of helplessness is drastically amplified. Later, when the threat is over, the intense helplessness and immobilization effects will wear off, but not completely. When we are traumatized, an echo of this feeling of being frozen remains with us. Like hyperarousal and constriction, helplessness is an overt reflection of the physiological processes happening in the body. When our nervous systems shift into an aroused state in response to danger, and we cannot defend ourselves or flee, the next strategy the nervous system employs is immobilization. Nearly every creature that lives has this primitive response wired into its repertoire of defensive strategies. We will return again and again to this intriguing response in the chapters that follow. It plays a leading role in both the development and transformation of trauma. And Then There Was Trauma Hyperarousal, constriction, helplessness, and dissociation are all normal responses to threat. As such, they do not always end up as traumatic symptoms. Only when they are habitual and chronic do symptoms develop. As these stress reactions remain in place, they form the groundwork and fuel for the development of subsequent symptoms. Within months, these symptoms at the core of the traumatic reaction will begin to incorporate mental and psychological characteristics into their dynamics until eventually they reach into every corner of the trauma sufferer’s life.

• From Waking the Tiger: Healing Trauma (1997)

  That is why I feel that the study of wild animal behavior is essential to the understanding and healing of human trauma. The involuntary and instinctual portions of the human brain and nervous system are virtually identical to those of other mammals and even reptiles. Our brain, often called the triune brain, consists of three integral systems. The three parts are commonly known as the reptilian brain (instinctual), the mammalian or limbic brain (emotional), and the human brain or neo-cortex (rational). Since the parts of the brain that are activated by a perceived life- threatening situation are the parts we share with animals, much can be learned by studying how certain animals, like the impala, avoid traumatization. To take this one step further, I believe that the key to healing traumatic symptoms in humans lies in our being able to mirror the fluid adaptation of wild animals as they shake out and pass through the immobility response and become fully mobile and functional again. Unlike wild animals, when threatened we humans have never found it easy to resolve the dilemma of whether to fight or flee. This dilemma stems, at least in part, from the fact that our species has played the role of both predator and prey. Prehistoric peoples, though many were hunters, spent long hours each day huddled together in cold caves with the certain knowledge that they could be snatched up at any moment and torn to shreds. Our chances for survival increased as we gathered in larger groups, discovered fire, and invented tools, many of which were weapons used for hunting and self-defense. However, the genetic memory of being easy prey has persisted in our brains and nervous systems. Lacking both the swiftness of an impala and the lethal fangs and claws of a stalking cheetah, our human brains often second guess our ability to take life-preserving action. This uncertainty has made us particularly vulnerable to the powerful effects of trauma. Animals like the agile, darting impala know they are prey and are intimate with their survival resources. They sense what they need to do and they do it. Likewise, the sleek cheetah’s seventy-miles-an-hour sprint and treacherous fangs and claws make it a self-assured predator. The line is not so clearly delineated for the human animal. When confronted with a life-threatening situation, our rational brains may become confused and override our instinctive impulses. Though this overriding may be done for a good reason, the confusion that accompanies it sets the stage for what I call the “Medusa Comple x ” — the drama called trauma. As in the Greek myth of Medusa, the human confusion that may ensue when we stare death in the face can turn us to stone.