The Pathway to the Parking Lot

The Path of Safety

Rumination and perseveration are worn paths in the woods, so well-worn that even the roots of trees have somehow withdrawn to create an eerily smooth surface. Somewhere in my consciousness, I know the forest stretches out around me for miles and miles, but all I can see is that dirt path under my feet as I follow it. I cling to that familiarity, terrified to even think beyond the path, because looking up feels to me like dying.

Following the path is familiar. It’s instinctual. It’s safe and comforting. But the most sinister truth is that it’s only two of those things. It’s familiar to the point that it’s instinctual. And okay, perhaps it’s “comforting” in the same sense that doom scrolling the news is right now. It’s “comforting” in the way that keeping your eyes on a stranger with a weapon is “comforting”. Because sometimes keeping your unbroken attention on scary things feels like the only thing keeping you safe. When Safe is the only thing that matters, it looks a lot like comfort.

And so I continue on this pathway, conscious of the woods surrounding me in only the loosest sense. My world begins and ends on that path. And in that rut, I somehow know that if I stop walking, the entire world might end instead.

Rumination as Defense

Learning to glance to the edges of the path is the first of a herculean series of steps toward actual comfort outside of the rut. The problem is – going down these familiar pathways is something that kept me “safe” in the only way my brain knew how. And it’s so easy to forget that “safe” to my brain does not mean happiness. It doesn’t mean truth. Comfort. Reality. It means alive. It doesn’t mean thriving. It doesn’t mean functioning. It doesn’t even really mean living. It means alive.

My brain wants me to be alive. It just has kind of a funny way of showing it sometimes. To my brain, safe is alive and alive is safe and there is no concern for healthy. There’s no understanding of happiness and soul and thriving. So up to this point, whatever has kept me alive has kept me safe has kept me alive has kept me safe…

Noticing the Rut

Glancing to the Edge of the Path

Realizing that my brain literally has no chill has been key to noticing that I’m in a years-in-the-making Rut. Alive is all my brain cares about. And I’d argue… it’s literally doing its job. I have to care about the rest.

One of the hardest but most effective skills I’ve learned over the past years has been to work from the understanding that my brain is not an enemy or even a friend. It runs purely on pathways and troubleshooting. Brains will latch onto whatever works to survive. It doesn’t understand concepts beyond that. It uses what works. And what “works” has no level of chill. It’s not holistic or factual or realistic. It’s often not even what is arguably best.

So here I am on this path yet again, feet cramping up, stomach knotted and floating all at once, breathing ragged from holding my breath and clenching my teeth, heart absolutely obliterating my sternum with its pounding. Following this path that is “safe” and “working” and “fine”. But I’m not living. I’m not thriving. While it’s true that I’m alive, I’m suffering on this path.

I can’t begin to tell you how hard and how worth it beginning to look to the edge of the path is. It starts with furtive glances to the edges that the brain labels with every single physiological signal it can as capital D Danger. For me, it had to start out from an external source. It’s taken years of my therapist pointing out that:

I’m even on a pathway to begin with!
This path is actually a rut.
I don’t have to be on it.
The path is actual counterproductive.
The path is ultimately hurting me.
This defense is no longer serving me or keeping me safe.

Outthinking My Brain

Once I began to see the edges of the paths – not just when pointed out to me – but on my own and without prompting, I began to see how to outthink my brain.

He’s just a little guy

My brain is powerful. It has the most powerful instincts geared toward one thing and literally only one thing only. Stay. Alive.

He’s just out here doing his best. And you know what? His idea of doing his best is based on innate instincts, a long history, and a track record of arguably – 100%. I am alive. So like… good job, buddy.

But he’s also just a little guy. And sometimes that little guy needs to be treated like a little guy who needs some guidance.

Here’s how a typical interaction between myself and my brain would go in the past when I saw my brain and myself as one:

Typical Reaction

Brain: What if we just jerked the wheel and went over the edge of this bridge?!?

Reaction: WHAT? OMG NO. There’s something seriously wrong with me. That’s so disturbing. Am I okay? It there something wrong? What if I actually do it?? I can’t trust myself. Am I dangerous? Should I even be driving anymore? What if I hurt myself or others? I’m terrifying and unsafe!

(Note: Thank goodness I didn’t overreact lol [sarcasm])

Veering Off the Path

(No pun intended, if you can believe it…)

Brain: What if we just jerked the wheel and went over the edge of this bridge?!?

Reaction: Hey, you’re right.

~~Brain~~ Little Guy: Wait, what?

Reaction: You’re right. What if? That would be really bad. Thanks for bringing that concern up. Heard. I won’t do it.

Little Guy: Okay, but what if? (raises eyebrows)

Reaction: Okay, what if? I would likely die. My loved ones would be devastated. And honestly, it sounds like a terrible experience all around. Thank you, but this test isn’t needed. The answer is the same.

Little Guy: … But what-

Reaction: I heard you, buddy.

Little Guy: …

Reaction: You’re trying to troubleshoot a problem. But I’m telling you – It’s not a problem right now. I trust you to bring it up to “test” me. Trust that I take this test seriously. Consider the test passed for now, bud.

LIttle guy = big job

My brain has a hard job. And remember – he’s just a Little Guy.

Part of the issue (for me) is that I react in such a strong way that he doesn’t feel heard. The more I vehemently and instinctually shout “OMG NO!” when Little Guy opens his mouth, the more he feels I’m not listening. The more I’m proving the test is needed. I’m reinforcing it in the most backward illogical way that for whatever reason makes sense to Little Guy.

I’ve had so much more success with acknowledging him, reassuring him, and moving on.

Listen, I’m not about to say this works immediately. I’m not going to say it always works or never needs adjusting or anything like that. Unfortunately, but crucially, the Little Guy never stops evolving, and he will never not have only one job that he’s very passionate about. Stay. Alive.

But the truth is that I also have an investment in his mission. But it’s not my only mission, nor should it be. Because that’s not living.

The little guy is not me

Maybe I’ve lost some of you by this point. That’s okay. Honestly, for some people reading this, their own “Little Guy” might react in panic to this. And that’s okay too!

I can’t describe the relief, though. This differentiation between my brain as a little guy just trying his best but missing a big part of the context versus myself as a person. It’s brought a level of understanding and a way forward that has changed so much for me.

Little Guy will often test me as a person using the things I fear the most. It sees those things with the weight that I do. It sees my values and morals as important, sure. But Little Guy only has one way to tag important things. Danger and Not Danger. And remember, he has zero chill. So when he’s testing things for “Safety”, he converts things in the only ways he knows how which just doesn’t work in a “one for one” type conversion.

A super common example of this zero chill conversion people experience looks like:

Person’s Important Thing: I love my family so much and want them to be safe.

Little Guy: What if I just stabbed my loved one right now?

Is this intrusive thought something that’s really scary to have pop into your head? Absolutely.

Does it say something about you as a person? Absolutely. (Hey, but like don’t panic yet. It’s not in the way you might think!)

Typical thoughts in reaction to Little Guy might be:

What’s wrong with me?
Do I actually want to hurt them?
Am I safe to be around?
Did I actually hurt them? (Despite literally looking at the person alive and well)
Will I hurt them? When? How?
Should I be in jail? (Minority Report much?)
Should I get rid of all the knives I own, have ever owned, or will ever own? (What does that even mean?)

But what this actually means (again, in my experience).

Truth: This person is someone I love very much. I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.

Little Guy: Important is potential Danger. How to troubleshoot danger? I can’t keep person safe or control so many things in general. I can control Me. Okay, let’s test to make sure I’m not the Danger.

It’s literally like Little Guy cannot compute anything beyond Stay Alive and he short-circuits. His wires get so crossed and after all — he’s just a Little Guy. Just trying his best. He only has limited tools. So he MacGyver’s a thing made out of Danger, hands it to us, and we’re like “WHAT THE F*CK?? What’s actually wrong with me?”

But honestly, I think Little Guy tests us on the things we hold the most dear. The things we are least likely to do. The things it’s the most important to us that we NOT do. What we to our core care about – safety of loved ones, keeping kids safe, being kind to others, not causing injuries, doing our best – is accidentally twisted in an attempt to treat them as important.

It’s backwards and distressing.

What is the Path Even?

So like, okay. This whole thing has been about noticing the path and why you’re on it. But like… what is the path even?

Okay, hang in there with me while I summarize.

When you start to acknowledge your Little Guy is – in fact – just a little guy with one mode and one mode only, you can start to realize… Little Guy literally cannot see the forest for the trees. Seeing the trees would be literal progress, because – you guessed it. It can only see the path.

The path is so many things. It’s a default. It’s what’s worked to help you stay alive before. (And remember – alive is just alive. It’s not healthy, sane, safe, happy, thriving. It’s alive.) The path is also literal neuropathways.

Stepping Off the Path

Writing this has been exhausting and I’m starting to burn out, but I want to finish at least this draft and hit post. I worry that if I don’t go ahead and post, I never will. And maybe that’s okay. But the reason I ever write is to share. Being a human is so hard. Having a brain is hard. And it’s a profoundly isolating experience that causes us to think we must be the only one experiencing these things that are so big. But the truth is that our experiences are not unique, but people don’t know how to talk about them. And if you don’t hear about the struggles, you also don’t know it’s possible to look up from the path at all.

Stepping off the path means breaking away from the default. The default pathway your brain goes down in a situation. How you react to something. How your thoughts spiral. How you view something external or internal and how you respond to it. How you think about yourself or the world. How you experience intrusive thoughts or think through a problem or move forward in a situation. Stepping off the path means creating a new path – literally creating and reinforcing new neuropathways -rather than falling back into old neuropathways that are the default. (note: I’m not at all trying to imply this is something like “mind over matter” or toxic positivity coded! This is something that takes time, help, error, various kinds of therapy, meds, support systems, etc.)

acknowledge

I talked a ton about this so I won’t go too much deeper. Acknowledging can look different for people, but for me, it means acknowledging:

Brain is Little Guy
Little Guy is not me
Little Guy uses faulty mechanisms
Mechanisms may have worked before
We have better tools to build that will work better now
Little Guy is trying his best
Pushing him away makes him fight harder

redirection

I can struggle with If – then style of thinking. It was extremely common and scary as a kid. A common “formula” for these thoughts tend to be:

IF [subject] [does or does not] [action] [time limit] THEN [bad thing].

Common IF segments might be:

If I don’t hold my breath for 20 seconds…
If I blink before they do…
If I don’t finish this task…
If they say this specific word…
If the number is not even…
If I don’t finish this before…

Common THEN segments might be:

… the world will end.
… I will lose my job.
… my parents will die.
… I will die.
… something bad will happen.

These pathways can be all-consuming even if you logically know them to be true.

The BIGGEST game changer for me has been redirection through absurdism. The steps for me have been:

Notice: Thought starts with IF statement (If I don’t hold my breath…)
Intercept: Even if the THEN statement has already started, attempt to “shout” a substitute over top of it.
Substitute: I had to choose a set THEN to insert at first (… I will turn into a balloon and float up to space!)
- The sillier and more impossible, the better here.
- Substitution may start out as coming after the scary THEN happens.
- Substitution may be “shouted” overtop of the scary THEN.
- Substitution may feel really feeble and silly – that’s the point!
Lean In to the Weird: You’re trying to disrupt the IF / THEN pattern your brain is misfiring with. Using absurd and literally impossible things kind of reassigns these scary thing as absurd. There is literally no way me holding my breath will change the outcome in the way the THEN statement claims. Breath holding having that effect is just as absurd as me turning into a balloon.
Get creative: The fixed phrase about turning into a balloon worked really well while I was getting used to intercepting these THEN statements because I would stall out and not think of anything absurd fast enough. All the redirects would be dark by accident! But eventually, I’ve needed to come up with more creative THEN substitutions to keep the absurdity at the forefront in order to be effective.

Practice

I won’t claim that I can always look up from a pathway 100% of the time. And that can feel so discouraging when it’s pointed out to you in therapy. It can feel hopeless when you do notice and feel powerless to look up, let alone step off the path. But keep in mind that it’s not an all or nothing. Each time you step off the pathway, you clear more of the brush from a new pathway. You can sometimes spot it more easily the next time. You are actually learning and reinforcing what it looks like to redirect yourself from this old rut onto the newly created one. In some ways, it’s a lot better to struggle and have to try again and again. If you got it the first time right away… you might not have any skills to redirect when you end up back in the rut again!

What is the Parking Lot and Why Care?

To me, the parking lot is a huge deal. This path – this rut – makes me feel like it’s the only option. I feel like looking up isn’t safe. It feels like seeing I’m even on a path isn’t safe. Being able to look up long enough to see I’m in a forest is huge. Being able to start to make a new path is incredible.

But being able to look up, and look far enough into the woods to see that the forest isn’t endless? That I can actually see a parking lot? That there is a way out of not just this path… not even just the forest… but a way to bigger and better things? That’s a feeling that is so powerful and such a relief that I just wrote about it for 3 hours and I worry it isn’t enough.

To me, that pathway to the parking lot is everything.