Making friends with your bottom-up brain (pt 2)
In the first part of this article, I invited y’all into a deeper understanding of the sequential, bottom-up nature of the brain. In Part 2, we dig into the practical ways to create experiences of safety and belonging so that we can access our capacity for higher-level functions of the cortex.
When we receive messages of safety through the 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.
When we purposefully and consciously integrate cues of physiological safety and relational connectedness into our lives and the spaces we create for others, it clears the pathway to learning, creativity, and values-aligned action. It allows us to act from present-moment, conscious awareness rather than guarded and reactive protective mechanisms.
These insights and approaches can be transformative when applied to the work that we do with people, and there are many ways that we can integrate them into the day-to-day world of our individual contexts. However, to think about these concepts only through the lens of how it applies to others misses the important role that our own well-being and quality of presence plays in our relationships.
As leaders and educators, we are not objective observers but active participants in the spaces that we create, and our state has an outsized impact on our people and on the culture of our teams, classrooms, or organizations.
Creating regulated spaces of safety and belonging for others starts with attending to ourselves and our own nervous system states.
Much of the best advice for managing relationships, behaviors, or conflict sends us directly to the cortex. The skills of responding with empathy rather than punitive judgment, of staying calm and grounded in the face of difficult behaviors, of engaging in curiosity and seeking to understand others’ perspectives: all of these are key to compassionately relating with and supporting others. And they are higher-level functions that are difficult to access if we are in an activated state and operating from lower parts of the brain.
How, then, do we get to the cortex?
We can work with the sequential nature of the brain by integrating cues of safety and belonging into our lives and spaces. What this looks like on a practical level is to follow a pathway of regulation, connection, and reflection.
Regulation. This requires attending to the demands of the body and the brainstem, those basic physiological needs of the lizard brain and our animal bodies. Have I eaten? Did I get enough sleep? Am I drinking enough water? These are the most basic elements of self care that so many of us still struggle to tend to, but which are foundational to our capacity to do much of anything in our lives.
The fact that this is still a conversation, and that so many of us believe that these needs are optional or somehow less of a priority than, well, anything else, speaks to the deeply misguided norms of the dominant culture we live in. I won’t say much more about this, except to encourage you to sleep, to eat real food, to drink more water, and to stop pretending that these needs are negotiable and start creating micro-cultures that normalize the most basic elements of taking care of ourselves.
Martyrdom is not the move: we don’t get extra morality points for denying our needs, no matter what our cultural stories tell us, and doing so actually compromises our ability to support others skillfully.
On another level, we can tend to our regulation and send signals to the brainstem that we are indeed safe by creating small and large opportunities for rhythmic movement, somato-sensory practices, and predictable, patterned, or repetitive experience. Being in our bodies.
This can look like regular movement practices (i.e. exercise) but can also be something as small and subtle as tapping my fingers on my leg when I’m in a difficult meeting. The association between rhythm and regulation develops in-utero, where there is an ongoing experience of having one’s needs met (being consistently warm, nourished, and held) alongside the steady, constant rhythms of the breath and heartbeat of the body we are held within.
This association persists with us through life, and it means that experiences of sensory rhythm or repetitive patterning are inherently regulating. Going for a walk, counting breaths, listening to music with a good beat and tapping our foot to the rhythm—even unconscious behaviors like leg-shaking or pen-clicking—all can help to regulate our systems from the bottom-up.
Somato-sensory practices invite us to shift out of the (over)thinking brain and to connect with the external or internal world directly. There’s a bundle of evidence that shows that the simple (but not always easy) act of moving our attention to the senses and sensation can invite new information into our system that can help interrupt not-so-helpful, habitual ways of operating in the world. These practices also get us out of our heads (where we often get tangled up in unhelpful thoughts of the past or the future) and back into our bodies (which exist solely in the present moment).
In order to be present to others and to the demands of the moment, I need to be in the moment. Connecting to the pressure of my feet on the ground, the slant of light coming through the window, or the murmur of the room can act as a tether to the here and now.
When I was in the relentless grind of teaching, it didn’t allow much room for longer practices of self-care during the day. During the time that I was struggling the most, feeling burned out and bone-deep exhausted, I created a simple regulating ritual that I practiced many times a day. In the sliver of time between classes, rather than going to the nearest bathroom, I went to one in a different building. I counted my steps as I walked. I took deep breaths in rhythm with my steps. And, when I was outside, I soaked in whatever sensory experience was happening in that micro-moment: rain or sun, cold air or warm, birdsong, smells. As I washed my hands, I paid attention to the pressure of my feet on the ground and the sensation of the warm water on my hands.
Where I once rushed to the bathroom on autopilot—usually thinking about my last class, the next lesson, or just generally feeling sorry for myself—this small shift in attention often made the difference in how I was able to show up with my students. It wasn’t enough to fully get me out of burnout (that was a much longer process), but it allowed me to get through the day, which often felt like a huge hurdle.
All of these body-based, brainstem-regulating approaches can be utilized when we’re actively dysregulated or activated, as a way to bring us back into balance. But they are even more effective when they’re integrated into the fabric of our daily lives. And the more that you connect to these practices yourself, the more authentic it will feel to bring them into the spaces where you influence and support others.
Connection. Part of being a social creature and a mammal is the connection between safety and relational belonging. We depend on each other not only for practical purposes, but also to meet deep and innate needs for connection, respect, and affection.
When we don’t receive cues of relational safety, when we feel disconnected or excluded from others, like we can’t really be ourselves or can’t trust the people around us, it puts us into a state of vigilance. When we feel comfortable with the people who we are with and get the sense that we are valued and accepted, there is a softening of this self-protection that allows us to relax.
I can meet this need for connection through nurturing and maintaining rewarding and reciprocal relationships with people who genuinely care for me. We need connections that allow us to be vulnerable and authentic and where we don’t fear that we’ll be judged or rejected when we share our struggles or shameful moments. We need connections with people who we trust.
Trust is not a cognitive concept that we can convince ourselves of, but a felt experience that we receive through the body. My nervous system lets me know how comfortable I feel with certain people, and how safe it is to be open with them.
This is a huge part of why it’s so important for us to attend to our own well-being as the “keystone” nervous system in our classroom or team. There is a direct link between my nervous system state and how authentic and connected I am able to be. When overwhelm or dysregulation shows up, it bleeds into my relationships with others, and can ripple through a group. But if I’m able to embody a grounded, regulated presence, it can be a naturally regulating force for others.
Another way to connect with cues of belonging and to meet the needs of our limbic region is through practices of self-compassion. The way that we talk to and treat ourselves can either soothe us and help bring us back into regulation, or spiral us deeper into states of activation or withdrawal.
The shortcut to accessing self-compassion is to consider what kind of support feels most regulating to receive from others, and then to do our best to give it to ourselves. If hugs or other forms of touch are your jam, you can offer yourself a version of this by putting a hand on your chest or giving your arm a gentle squeeze. If empathy and validation feel supportive, you can say to yourself (quietly or out loud) some version of “this is hard, and it makes sense that you’re feeling frustrated/ashamed/scared.”
When I was making those trips to the bathroom between classes, counting my steps and breathing, I would often talk to myself in my head. What I said would change, depending on how I was feeling that day and how my last class had gone, but my two go-to phrases tended to be some version of “you’re doing your best” and “you’ve got this, babe.” As someone who has struggled for most of my life with harsh self-judgment (and still grapples with it on a near-daily basis) this way of relating to myself doesn’t come naturally. But it works.
So, at minimum, notice when and if you’re being a jerk to yourself and remind yourself that it isn’t helpful (but not in a jerky way). Beating yourself up when you’re already activated is a quick ticket into a shame spiral. Feeling disconnected from others is hard: feeling disconnected from ourselves can make things even harder.
Reflection. When the signature of safe enough is inscribed into our systems through embodied experiences of regulation and connection, it clears the pathway to the higher-order functions of the cortex. Here, we can shift from reactive, survival mode into states of openness, curiosity, and innovative problem-solving.
More, we can use the cortical functions of reflection and intention to process, learn, and make changes as needed in response to feedback from the environment and from others. When we incorporate cues of safety and belonging into our work with others we can create a space that invites them to access these same capacities, fostering a growth-oriented culture that is adaptable, nimble, and responsive to the shifting demands of the moment.
Reflection is the capacity that allows us to move into states of learning and change. It allows for experiences–even and especially difficult ones–to become valuable fodder for insight. When we take the time to step back from the relentless pace of our daily tasks and challenges, we can sometimes see patterns or unhelpful strategies that wouldn’t otherwise be apparent.
When we’re in this space of reflection, we have the capacity to contemplate bigger questions, listen for the answers, and set intentions for shifting course if needed.
Do my behaviors align with my values?
Am I showing up in my roles and relationships in a way that is in integrity with who I want to be in the world?
Are my daily activities moving me closer to my larger sense of purpose, the vision I have for my life, the goals that are important to me?
This process can allow us to approach our lives and relationships with a sense of clarity and purpose, and can have an enormous influence on our capacity to skillfully respond to challenges in the moment.
Given the relentless pace of our daily lives, it’s easy to get stuck in reactive mode, where our survival responses dictate how we show up in the world. But we can take small but effective actions that allow us to access our most thoughtful and compassionate selves and to act from that place.
We can give ourselves space to create cues of safety by regulating through body-based practices. We can cultivate belonging by connecting with others and ourselves in authentic and supportive ways. And then, we can clear out space for practices of reflection and intentionality that puts us back in the driver’s seat.
Rhythm. Relationship. Reflection. In that order.
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!