Trauma - Part 2 (see below for part 1)

What happens neurologically after a traumatic event has occurred?

We human beings are tough, and we are programmed to survive. However, when we have survived trauma, the need to escape it again in the future can intensify to the extent that we live in a state of ongoing threat and arousal, and this can wreak utter havoc in our employment and relationships. Being traumatised means that life is organised as if the trauma is still happening and so the nervous system changes. In PTSD, the body continues to try to defend against an event that occurred historically, and the frontal parts of the brain are offline. The amygdala cannot distinguish between the past and present, so the powerful stress hormones and nervous system responses keep on happening. It is incredibly disruptive if your smoke detector shouts ‘fire’ when this is absolutely not the case. However, the body and brain would rather be safe than sorry, and so it becomes hypervigilant for cues from the original threat. This ongoing effort can take its toll on the body, leading to autoimmune diseases, chronic fatigue and many other physical symptoms. When a traumatic event is particularly overwhelming, dissociation is often the result. Dissociation occurs when the overwhelming experience splits itself off, and the sensations of the traumatic event take on a life of their own, intruding into the present. Defensive, emotionally reactive responses keep happening even though the original trauma is over. Minor problems become major issues. Organising life to prevent against triggers is exhausting and can lead to fatigue and depression. Therapy can support you to make connections between the past and the present, and to understand which emotions underlie this sort of reactivity in response to the original threat/trauma. There is an indescribably strong link between mental and physical processes and working with trauma means helping the individual identify, name and eventually control sensations and emotions (Van Der Kolk, 2015).

If you are a ‘details’ person, the following points highlight some key neurological processes to do with traumatic responses:

{Bessel Van Der Kolk's (2015) book 'The body keeps the score' supported me in writing this section and is a fascinating read}.

  • The thalamus, which processes all of the sensory inputs, can break down in the midst of trauma. So instead of sensory inputs being remembered as a narrative or a story with a beginning, middle and end, they are experienced instead as intrusive emotions, images and thoughts related to the trauma. The body then moves from a ‘green’ state to an ‘amber’ or ‘red’ state, meaning that it is flooded with stress hormones and over-aroused. This is the essence of the ‘re-experiencing’ element of PTSD - perhaps as intrusive thoughts, unwanted memories or nightmares.

  • The body has two main brain systems - the mammalian and the reptilian brain. The mammalian brain leads to the fight or flight response and the reptilian brain leads to collapse - freeze or faint/flop. Following trauma, the nervous system changes so that danger and safety are perceived differently. When the amygdala (smoke detector) malfunctions, this can lead people to approach situations that are actually dangerous because it helps them feel alive compared to the less-favourable sense of shut down/collapse, but it can also mean people stay in traumatic, abusive situations instead of defending themselves. The reptilian brain, or ‘emotional’ brain, is deeply connected to the nervous system and its primary function is to look out for your wellbeing through neuroception (sensing danger or safety). It is much simpler than the mammalian (rational) brain and leaps to conclusions, using pre-programmed escape plans (fight/flight/freeze). But the sensations triggered by the emotional brain impact our decisions deeply - where we hang out, who we like/dislike, our hobby preferences etc.

  • When an individual has experienced trauma, attention is more naturally diverted towards possible threat cues, even if they aren’t threatening at all. The front/mammalian brain (capable of language, rational thought, empathy, planning and predictions) goes ‘offline’ and therefore so does its capacity to accurately assess a situation for genuine danger. For example, if a person attacked you who was wearing a red hoodie at the time, every time you see a red hoodie, they amygdala shouts fire! But if they’re clearly going to do you no harm, this is problematic. The rational brain is usually able to help you understand the smoke detector is overreacting and this means that you don’t become angry every time you are made to wait for something. PTSD means that this capacity becomes impaired, so emotional impulses are far harder to control. Intense feelings such as sadness, fear or anger mean that areas of the frontal lobes/rational brain/mammalian brain shut down and you can find yourself overreacting to small frustrations, freezing quickly if someone touches you or startling to any loud noise.

  • Flashbacks make you feel as if you are actually back in the traumatic event. This is because the part of the brain responsible for timekeeping shuts down (the right and left dorso pre-lateral frontal cortex) and it feels as if time collapses with no sense of past, present or future.

  • When aspects of trauma are replayed repeatedly, they become engraved in the mind and ordinary day-to-day events become less enjoyable. It becomes harder to feel in tune with the usual ups and downs of everyday life, and there may be difficulties with concentration. This bodily focus on the trauma, which feels inescapable, keeps the individual feeling locked in their past rather than grounded in the present.

  • When trauma is particularly overwhelming, the natural response is dissociation. There may be a vivid mental picture of what happened without any feelings - hence feeling numb. It is characterised at the time of the trauma by the mind going blank, feeling nothing and all areas of the brain showing minimal activity (depersonalisation). Or there may be intense feelings like shame, horror or fear, but no story to map those feelings onto - hence re-experiencing. It is like a ‘join the dots’ picture, but with no means to join the dots. In this state, the body and mind are ‘dis-integrated’. This is particularly likely to occur when the trauma is repeated and particularly overwhelming. If a child mentally ‘checks out’ during episodes of sexual abuse for example, this can extend into adulthood with the individual describing that they feel disconnected and unsure whether events really happened to them or not.

Reference

Van Der Kolk, B. (2015) The body keeps the score: Mind, brain and body in the transformation of trauma. London: Penguin. 

Trauma - part 1

First of all, what is Trauma?

Trauma is something that is experienced as both unbearable and as intolerable. The word ‘experienced’ highlights that subjectivity is involved, and we know that what may be experienced as genuinely traumatic for one individual might not be experienced by another in the same way. So if that’s the case, how can we tell whether something actually was traumatic for an individual? Bessel Van Der Kolk, a leading theoretician and clinician in the trauma field, with Rita Fisler, describe  trauma as ‘an inescapably stressful event that overwhelms people’s existing coping mechanisms’ (Van Der Kolk & Fisler, 1995). So the key is a sense of overwhelm. Overwhelm manifests itself in different ways. Of course there is the sense of overwhelm we may experience when we hear some great news, or we may feel overwhelmed by a mountain of tasks to do. But this is not the level of overwhelm that is implicated in trauma and traumatic stress. Traumatic stress becomes apparent when the overwhelm experienced by the individual does not go away. The event still feels as if it is happening. The individual will likely not be able to think clearly about the event or adequately express their feelings about what happened to them.

What happens in the brain and body at the moment of trauma occurring?

Understanding what happens neurobiologically is critically important in understanding trauma. Firstly, it helps us understand why reactions to trauma are usually so body-based. Secondly, I feel that it de-stigmatises traumatic stress when we understand that the response to trauma is as automatic as many other of our physiological, unconscious mechanisms that help keep us alive (Van Der Kolk, 2015).

  • We have to sift out danger and safety all the time, so this is a normal part of life. Fear is the emotion that helps us avoid danger.
  • Sensory information arrives via the eyes, mouth, nose, skin & ears. The thalamus combines all of these sensory inputs into an organised experience so that we can say in an autobiographical sense, ‘this is happening to me’ (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • This sensory information is then passed in one of two directions. It goes to the amygdala in the lower brain, and also to the frontal lobes, in the upper brain (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • The amygdala is very important and information reaches it quicker than it reaches the frontal lobes. The amygdala’s job is to work out whether the sensory information received is a threat to our survival or not - does it have emotional significance for me? Am I safe? The amygdala is known as a ‘smoke detector’ in the field (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • If the information detected by the thalamus, and then sent to the amygdala and the frontal lobes is decided to be non-threatening, then we ‘neurocept’ safety and we stay in the ‘green zone’. Neuroception simply describes the process whereby we evaluate danger and safety in the social environment (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • If we neurocept danger in some way, the green zone moves towards the amber zone because the amygdala, or smoke alarm, says ‘fire!’ (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • The amygdala, sensing threat, instantly messages the hypothalamus and the autonomic nervous system and the whole body starts to get involved. (It acts much faster than the frontal lobes, which are much better at accurately assessing the situation. But this is why you may have run away before you even mentally realised you were actually in danger) (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • This triggers the release of stress hormones - cortisol and adrenaline - and we are prepared for fight or flight. Our blood pressure and heart rate increase and we get ready to fight or run away. If the threat passes, we return to our usual baseline pretty quickly. This may be all that we need in order to escape a potentially traumatic event (e.g. being hit by a car or approached by someone who might hurt us). We then escape the situation, recover and then we begin to make sense of what happened e.g. ‘someone approached me who looked like they were up for a fight. I responded pretty quickly and got myself out of there, and it was scary, but I am safe now’. The individual stores that situation in their memory as one in which they were at risk, but ultimately were safe (Van Der Kolk, 2015).
  • However, the threat may not go away. The person who looks unsafe continues to approach you and maybe you can’t get away, or the car accident wasn’t a near miss, it actually happened. When this happens, the body goes into red alert. In the case of sexual abuse, for example, the victim may know that they are not strong enough to fight off their victim or take flight by running away. So the brain goes into ‘freeze’ and the body becomes paralysed. Failing freeze, a state of total submission ensues where the muscles go floppy and all ‘higher thinking’ processes in the brain in the frontal lobes are shut down. Sadly, this is often perceived by abusers to be the victim giving consent, which could not be further from the truth (Spring, 2015; Van Der Kolk, 2015).

When we suffer harm from a traumatic event, it becomes a survival imperative to avoid that situation happening again. Part 2 (coming up) looks at some of what happens following a threatening/traumatic event that did actually harm us.

References

Spring, C. (2015) Dissociation: Resource Guide (3rd ed). Huntingdon: Carolyn Spring Publishing. 

Van Der Kolk, B. (2015) The body keeps the score: Mind, brain and body in the transformation of trauma. London: Penguin. 

Van Der Kolk, B. & Fisler, R. (1995) Dissociation and the fragmentary nature of traumatic memories: overview and exploratory study. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 8 (4), 505-525.

 

 

In the spirit of being vulnerable ...

Vulnerability. What does it mean? I love Brene Brown's definition, "the willingness to be 'all in' even when you know it can mean failing and hurting" . She adds that this kind of vulnerability is a brave endeavour, to reveal ourselves when there is a potential cost. As a doctoral student, about to immerse myself into the world of research, I feel the pull towards wanting to hide, to shut away my voice, to save what it is I have to say until it is 'ready' and 'complete'. Surely I only need to be vulnerable at the end, when it's ready to be bound up as the final thesis and handed to the examiners? The temptation might be to 'sit tight' until we have the answers, to hold on to anything in formation until the finished product is ready to be placed on the table. Will it ever be ready or complete? On the day that happens though, that's the day that I stop learning.

I often talk with my clients about pushing into physical sensations, leaning into what the body is saying, tuning in to what lies beneath the noise, the chatter, the words. In terms of my own experience, what I often find when I do this exercise with myself is fear - fear of being 'found out', of not knowing as much as the next person, of wondering if what I say and do will come across as silly (yes, therapists think these things too!). Over time though, I have found that if I lean into the fear rather than try and push it away, I seem to also find an urge to trust. Given that fear and trust may be opposite sides of the same coin, it makes sense that they can be found within close proximity given a little bit of soul-searching. What this has meant for my own experience is that to give myself over to trust does not mean that I won't feel fear. Or to choose a brave path does not preclude me from also feeling anxiety. When I return to what Brene Brown says, this for me is what encompasses being "all in" - all of me, all of my emotions, all of my senses. Even when they are difficult, conflicting, shameful. 

So, in the spirit of vulnerability, I am choosing to publish this - my first, and definitely imperfect, blog post. And to reveal what has been a long time in the making, a very much work-in-progress title for my doctoral project: "A constructed grounded theory exploration of how Christian therapists work clinically with those who have encountered spiritual abuse/trauma in a Christian context". This is very much *not* a finished product, in fact, I have barely begun. But I have a feeling that in sharing the process with others from the beginning, in its incomplete state, it'll be a less lonely journey when it gets hard.