Are you able to discern the difference between when you’re in an insecure or secure state of being?
As I sat shoeless and cross-legged on the floor of my office with a client, who also sat barefooted and cross-legged on a nearby brown leather loveseat, the focus of our hour-long counseling session fell on this very subject. We worked to become aware of which was which, and I’d like to share what we discovered.
Playing with these states, we imagined them as actual states: Washington as the secure one and Oregon as the insecure one (no diss on Oregon, by the way). Then we wandered back and forth over the state line taking notes; what did we notice were the differences?
A secure state is one of knowing. Of certainty, clarity, and objectivity. It’s an “I’m good with me” and “I got this” kind of state. When I asked the client about their feelings when they’re secure, specifically regarding their fear of a friend not making plans with them, they shrugged indifferently and said, “When I’m feeling good I don’t think much of it.”
However, when crossing the state line into insecure their face contorted, and their demeanor changed. It’s as if they slipped out of their nicely-fitting Tevas onto a ground that crumbled beneath them.
The longer they stayed, the more insecure they became, “They’re not calling because of me. I did something.”
Their stance of curiosity conveyor belted them to the cliff’s edge, and desperation settled in, “It has to be that something’s wrong with me!” Their options of what to do were limited; scramble and fix things, demand reassurance from their friend (which they knew was a temporary fix), or do as they sometimes do, sink into hopelessness, which for them often led to hours of sobbing on their bathroom floor.
What’s going on here, I thought. Then did as often do, and shifted the conversation to another zone, one where I bring in context.
There’s a reason for state shifts; our physiology. When dysregulated, the ability to access the necessary parts of our brain for confidence is gone. Out the door, see ya, outro. It’s called an amygdala hijack and it’s the alarm system that goes off when we are triggered or under ongoing stress. Without taking the gas pedal off the body’s revved-up engine, across the border we go, with a limited version of ourselves at the wheels – good luck to us.
But another problem is that when in this state we’re also accessing all our previous experiences with pain. In this threatened state, we’re in our wounds, making for quite a pancake of razor blades and not fun.
I find it fascinating that both states exist within us, and as I told my client yesterday, whereas today I prefer to stay in Washington, every so often when my emergency button gets pressed, I move right past the “Do Not Enter” sign I’ve stapled to a pole and shuffle into insecure land like a zombie out of “The Walking Dead”.
But, know this; you have a lot of power just by knowing the two states exist!
And if you do find yourself doubting yourself that’s ok, find your way back. Because each time you do, you increase your ability to stay secure.
If you’re interested in a mental exercise try this: Recall the last time you were in an insecure state. What did your body feel like, what thoughts did you have, what did you believe about yourself, the people, and the world around you? Then reflect on what you could have helped change your state to a more confident one. And this, my friend, is your prescription for the next Oregon to Washington border crossing.
If you’re wanting to understand more about what’s happening in the brain, check this out: Amygdala Hijack
Thanks for being here.
Love, Jaclynn