We’ve all got one.
12/5/2022
I’ve been thinking about lizards lately. Well, not exactly lizards as a whole, just their brains.
In the ‘50s and ‘60s, scientists who studied the anatomy of the brain called the limbic cortex your lizard brain. It’s the part of the brain responsible for emotion, addiction, mood, and lots of other emotional processes. It’s located in the lower part of the brain and is considered to be very primitive. So, not a lot of higher thinking takes place in there, which is unfortunate because all human experiences are processed in a bottom-up direction. To get to the smart part of our brain, our thoughts have to pass through the not-so-smart parts.
The not-so-smart parts are also going to be where memories of childhood trauma are stored. The majority of brain organization takes place in the first four years of life, meaning the experiences we had as children shaped our development as adults.
As far as I remember, I had a happy childhood. I mean it was mostly happy. I mean the parts that I remember are happy, if you subtract the-not-so-happy parts. But as I ponder the lizard part of my brain, and consider my longtime passive-aggressive behavior, it makes me wonder what my brain is lashing out against.
Without providing too many personal details, I remember a time in early adulthood when I was very frustrated with a relationship I was having. My feelings were hurt, and I remember wallowing in self-pity. But I was angry too. I had to be, considering what I did. The person I was angry with wasn’t in the room, in fact, she’d shut me out of the room she was in. So, I wandered into the kitchen to do the dishes.
As I applied soap and rinsed, sponged a surface and rinsed, my emotions continued to escalate. Why are relationships so hard? Today I know it’s because men and women are so different. But back then, that intellectualization wouldn’t have soothed my bruised ego. I continued to do the dishes, carelessly, angrily.
I remember my mom and dad used to fight—horrible, knock-down-drag-out fights. There was shouting. There was violence. She was a good mom, but don’t get on her bad side. He was a good dad, but don’t let him start drinking. (He was a much different man once he left his alcoholism behind.)
But I wasn’t them. I didn’t shout. I didn’t fight. I managed conflict and hurt feelings in a much different way.
Back at the sink, I continued to scrub the dishes, harder and harder. I remember singing something to help soothe my battered ego. But nothing helped. I was already on a path to self-destruction. That lizard part of my brain was in control, and it was taking me back in time, to other incidents that had upset me. Effing lizard! It was so unfair! All of it was so unfair! Why was I alone washing the dishes?
I squeezed and I squeezed. Too hard. I gasped when I saw the blood. No pain, just the sight of dark red blood filling the water glass in my hand. I’d crushed the top half of the glass and sliced my hand from the bottom of my forefinger to the base of my thumb. I was panicked. I was mortified. I was dumbstruck. What had I done?
Worse. There was only one person I could turn to for help—the person who’d driven me off my emotional, lizard-dwelling cliff. I pressed a towel tightly against my hand, but nothing I did stanched the flow. I commenced my walk of shame, knocked on her door, and announced to her that I’d accidentally cut myself. It was a miserable ride to the hospital.
It’s been so long since I thought about that night and the resultant seven stiches. It’s been so long since I revisited that pain. Lizard brain, why do you hold on to things for so long? I know I should’ve handled things better. Leave me alone. You win. You’ve scarred me for life. You happy now? I can’t get near sharp objects because of you. Are you satisfied, lizard brain?
No, you can never be satisfied. I see that now. Lizard brain is just a little boy. Something upset him, maybe even traumatized him, a long time ago. Now, when he gets upset, it takes so much effort to soothe him. But that’s okay, lizard brain. It’s alright now. You’re worth it. I won’t give up on you. But we’re running out of time lizard brain. Can you at least make an effort to collaborate with me a little better?
#IseenowwhyI’vealwaysbeendrawntodinosaurs