Bye-Bye Logic

I started therapy because of sensory processing issues largely regarding audio sensitivity. The self-preserving side of me would love to tell you that I recognized it as a problem and addressed the issue all by myself. That’s not true. Carrie gently, although persistently, suggested I try therapy. Therapy had been incredibly helpful for her, and she knew it would be helpful.

I knew she was right.

I said, “Once I get better, I’ll start therapy. Once I do the things I know I’m supposed to do, I’ll start therapy. Once I find someone smart enough, I’ll start therapy.”

It was one-too-many times of being irrationally responsive to sounds, inconveniences, chronic stress, and/or other cymbal-brain ringing inputs that lead me to finally pull the therapy-seeking trigger. Yes — it was after Carrie, once again, gently reminded me that therapy might help me and our family struggle less.

I want to unpack a little about my little understanding of a little part of our little brains called the amygdala. It protects me while it can also throw away my ability to critically think.

Brain science is something I can define by reading what I find on Google. I’m not an expert AT ALL. Please take this post ONLY as a glimpse of my perception of how the amygdala impacts me on some moments of my life (past, present, and future).

The amygdala activates for many reasons, but for the purposes of this post, I want to process the reason I sometimes am unable to critically think when something objectively safe puts me into a state of seemingly-unmanageable risk. Simply put, my survival instinct kicks in when I feel my safety is at-risk. 

Increased perception of risk by the amygdala is often triggered by memory: not logic (logic is managed by the frontal lobe). Like most things in our brains, the perception of risk is often not rational. We can associate a specific input with another situation that our brain has told us is dangerous. This can trigger our amygdala: for me, more often than I’d like.

For example—I have a beard and wear a hat. I’m generally really great with dogs. It’s not uncommon for rescue dogs to be highly cautious (if not aggressive) towards me. Unless I know otherwise, I assume a man with a beard and a hat beat the dog — triggering its survival mechanism — the amygdala. The dog doesn’t remember me as being a risk, but it likely associates my beard and hat with another bearded, hat-wearing man that has threatened its safety. When it sees a bearded, hat-wearing man, the dog remembers to protect itself.

The frontal lobe controls logic and helps determine the actual level of risk. The dog’s frontal lobe is about 10% of its brain while a human’s frontal lobe is about 33% of the brain. Based on this, I should be much more capable than a dog at logic; I think I am… sometimes.

Regardless of the brain, there’s a tipping point where the amygdala wins. My amygdala protects me. It helps me survive (should the scenario actually need it). My amygdala activations have been mostly (if not all) false positives — which for survival purposes is a safer bet than the alternative. When my immediate perception of threat is greater than my frontal lobe’s ability to logically process the inputs, my amygdala says, “I win.” Most critical thinking and logic goes away, and survival is the only goal.

My amygdala (fight or flight) winning the wrestling match with my frontal lobe (logic) is why I have yelled, cried, and run away when my little boys are excitedly yelling while playing video games. My amygdala has also made me do interpretive dances in the forest when I walk through a thick spider web. My amygdala has helped me sing notes at volumes I can’t otherwise muster when a snake makes itself known on a hiking trail. It’s also the reason I’ve spent countless hours in a closet hiding from random noises when my frontal lobe “should” tell my amygdala it’s just my boys banging blocks and sticks together in the other room. It’s not logical. That’s the point.

A spider hasn’t killed me. A snake hasn’t killed me. Noises haven’t killed me, but for some reason unmanageable, unpredictable noises make me feel like a trapped animal in a corner with no other option than to fight my way to a safe place.

So, when I experience a moment of overreaction, I think it’s important to immediately ask myself if I’m safe. 

Breathe. And then… breathe. And then… breathe. If I can get that many “breathes” in, it’s possible my frontal lobe will help me realize I’m okay and not lose all logic.

On the other hand, if my amygdala wins, I step away and give myself space to calm down. I literally cannot be logical when I’m pissed, scared, or otherwise amygdala-activated.

My amygdala not only activates from stimuli, but it also plays a big role in social interactions and relationships.

If I’m around someone who is overreacting to something in a way I don’t understand, I default to believing their amygdala is activated. They don’t seem logical, and I assume they literally cannot be logical or reasoned with.

Two Heads Can Sometimes Not Be Better Than One

Something to note about the amygdala is that EVERYONE has one. If I’m pissed and continue to engage with someone, I’m significantly more likely to trigger the other person’s amygdala. Two pissed-off, logicless people create a usually-winless scenario. It’s best if both people know how to control their own amygdala, and it’s likely more important for them to recognize others’ amygdala activation.

Calm the hell down and then talk. Both of y’all.

Quick note about people with ASD: According to a recent-ish study, people with ASD may have developed an enlarged amygdala from an early age. This is likely caused from an increased difficulty understanding social environments at early ages.

If I’m able to recognize when someone else is activated, it gives me a short window to engage my frontal lobe, calm down, and give the other person space, or, if possible, help them have space to reengage their logic. I do not tell other people I think their amygdala is activated; it’s a great, holier-than-thou way to say, “bye-bye!” to the logical part of their brain.

SIDENOTE: A few years into our relationship, Carrie and I agreed to debate one point at a time. If we feel like conversations are swinging in unending or escalating directions, we choose a well-defined point to discuss at a time. This has helped us not let arguments get littered with pointless, loosely-related mentions of unrelated accusations and harmful language. We’re far from perfect, but our disagreements have thus far remained to the point: ending in an agreement or an agreement to disagree.

If logic seems to be on Mars, the amygdala was a likely vehicle for its trip there. Logic needs some time to get back.

If someone overreacts to something around me, I hope to give them grace with the understanding that they likely don’t have access to the logical part of their brain. I hope others extend me the same grace when I need it. Most importantly, I hope we’re all able to give ourselves self grace for our overreactions when our logic goes away.