Making Friends with your Bottom-Up Brain

Am I safe? Do I belong?

These are the two core questions rolling on repeat in our brains and bodies, underneath the surface of our conscious awareness. The answers to these questions in any given moment constantly influence our emotions, thoughts, and behaviors. They dictate how open and authentic we are, how reflective and rational we’re able to be, and our ability to be fully present with others and to the demands of our lives.

One of the most pervasive mythologies of modern western culture is the supremacy of the thinking mind over the other facets of being human. We live in a “top-down” world where we reside inside the misbegotten belief that we have rational control over ourselves and can think our way out of any problems or struggles that we face.

Hate to break it to you: we don’t and we can’t. Boo.

The more that we try to power through our lives with this belief at the wheel, the more stuck we often feel. The reality is that other more ancient and unconscious parts of our physiology have as much (okay, way more) influence on our experience as the parts we can consciously control. At first glance this might make us feel powerless, but it is actually fantastic news.

If thinking ourselves into different behaviors or responses (or insisting that others do so) worked, well, it would have worked already. More awareness of the ways our system operates may make us realize how little control we have, but it will increase the amount of influence that we can manifest. Rather than steamrolling and strong-arming our biology (and exhausting ourselves in the process), we can come into a friendly alliance with our nervous systems.

A key element of this alliance is an understanding of the sequential nature of our brains.

Our fancy human brain develops from the bottom-up in a process that mirrors and maintains the evolutionary changes which have shaped us over time. Likewise, all incoming information is processed through this same predictable hierarchy, with each region assessing internal and external sensory data through a particular “lens,” so to speak. 

This elegant and consistent patterning is beautiful, in a way, and reflects the innate wisdom of the natural world that has shaped our systems over millions of years.

The brainstem is responsible for our basic functions of life and fully formed at birth. At the bottom of the brain, the brainstem is the bridge connecting the part of our nervous system that resides in our skull to the rest of our body. This is where our reflexive reactions happen, the most instinctual, survival-oriented responses to our environment. 

If incoming information includes cues of danger or threat (“Am I safe?”), the brainstem reacts before we can consciously process what is happening. When your so-called “friend” jumps out from a blind corner and scares the living crap out of you, the noises and movements that come out of you are likely coming from the lowest parts of your brain (and if you “accidentally” punch this person in the face, you can blame it on your brainstem—and on them because, well, choices have consequences). It is also the part of our brain that takes over in legitimate survival situations, where taking too much time to think poses a liability.  

The brainstem is the part of our brain that we have in common with the widest range of other animals: some people call it the “lizard” brain or the “primal” brain because of this commonality. Survival and basic physiological needs and functions are the concern of this region: if we end up in a coma or vegetative state, unable to function, alive in only the most basic sense of the world, this is the part of our brain that is running the show.  

The next region to develop, the limbic system is responsible for attachments and relationships, among other functions (“Do I belong?”). More recently evolved and a region that we share with other furry, snuggly mammals, this is the center for social connection and plays a large part in our emotional experience.  As social animals, our safety and survival deeply depends on our sense of belonging with others—not only with our primary caregivers at birth but with wider and wider groups of peers, mentors, and the larger community as we get older. 

And then, of course, the uppermost part of the brain, the crown of the cortex. This is most recently evolved part of our brain and the last to develop: it’s common knowledge in our culture at this point that this region isn’t fully developed until well into our mid- to late-twenties. This is the region of our brain that makes us uniquely human, where we access the capacity for mental time travel, the ability to reflect and reason, to make plans and solve complex problems, to imagine and empathize and consider abstract ideas. 

Access to this region is necessary for us to engage in acts of innovation, creativity, and learning. It is also where conscious thought occurs, where I can analyze a situation, think through my options, and respond in ways that align with my values or take into account the possible consequences of my actions. 

It seems obvious, but I’ll say it anyway: these functions are crucial in order to thrive in our work, in learning, and in our lives.

So, here’s the thing. Information (both external via the senses or internal through our capacities of interoception) passes through the brain in this very same order—through the brainstem, then the limbic system, and then finally into the cortex. In effect, all information has to pass through the gates of survival (the brainstem) and connection (the limbic region) before it gets to the higher regions of logic and reflection. 

Because of this sequential nature of the brain, it’s impossible to access the higher level capacities of the cortex—not just reasoning and intellect, but also those such as imagination and empathy—without the “gatekeepers” of the lower brain granting us access, so to speak. 

Another way to think about this is that, in order to access our human functions, we must attend to our animal needs.

If we focus our efforts exclusively on the cognitive and intellectual functions of the cortex and hold these qualities as superior to the “lower” functions of our emotions, relationships, and the needs and wisdom of the physical body, we shoot ourselves in the metaphorical foot. 

How often have you had an intellectual understanding of something (i.e. I shouldn’t yell at my kids, flip off other drivers, etc.) but your actions constantly seem to fall short of your best intentions? This is especially true for situations where we have past experiences of trauma or social conditioning that have imprinted us with a particular range of reactions. 

The crush of the myth of “top-down” control is that we’re often left feeling shame, guilt, or self-judgment when we’re unable to think ourselves out of reactions and behaviors that we don’t want to engage in. And we project this onto the people around us, as well.

Am I safe? Do I belong?

Unless the answer to these questions is YES (or at least a solid maybe), our nervous systems will default to a vigilant state of protection, one where we are unable to relax into the moment and bring our most creative, empathic, intelligent selves. 

When we receive messages of safety through these lower, older regions of the brain, it allows for a settling of the system, an orientation of openness and the ability to be more receptive, curious, and creative. This doesn’t happen through thinking to ourselves “I am safe,” but through felt cues of safety interpreted through the body. Therefore, if we want to effectively connect to the functions of the cortex, we need to work from the bottom-up.

In brief: if my physical and survival needs aren’t met, and I don’t feel a sense of relational safety and belonging, my access to learning, reflection, and slower, more responsive types of thinking are limited. 

Years ago, in my early 20s, I was in a chaotic relationship with someone fourteen years older than me who had a tendency to tell me to “just relax” in the midst of our (very frequent) fights, when I was feeling the most activated and frustrated. That relationship had very few cues of safety, and my system was constantly on edge because of the unpredictability of our emotional connection (aka belonging). Because of this, it wasn’t physiologically possible for me to relax with her. I didn’t know it at the time, but I can now see clearly how my nervous system was responding to the environment of our relationship, and that a top-down directive to chill out couldn’t override this, no matter how hard I tried.

It is through whole-brain integration that we have access to the broadest range of intelligence and the widest array of possibilities for responding available to us. This also allows me to act more consistently from my values and intentions, which are higher level, more abstract functions that quickly disintegrate when I’m dysregulated or acting from the lower parts of my brain.

The good news: there are ways that we can intentionally and consciously tap into and create these cues of safety and belonging for ourselves and others, in order to stay in (or return to) a regulated and reflective state. I’ll dig into this more in Part 2 of this article: stay tuned!

If you’re interested in applying these concepts in your world or with your people, I offer professional development trainings, team development programs, and consulting support that is grounded in the neuroscience of regulation. Reach out to connect and schedule a call!