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Anxiety and the Brain: The Three-Part Brain

The Three-Part Brain

There’s a model called the Three-Part Brain. The idea is that the brain developed in three evolutionary stages. This concept first came about in the 1960’s, and it’s a useful way of thinking about how the brain develops. The model is that the brainstem is the oldest part, at the bottom of the brain, and developed when the reptiles evolved. Then the limbic system, in the center of our heads, developed when mammals came into being. And the prefrontal cortex, the outer layer at the front of our brain, developed last with the primates and humans. We each have all three parts of the brain, as a testament to our evolutionary past.

But not only did the three parts of the brain evolve bottom up across millions of years, they develop in us as individuals in the same order. The brainstem develops first, then the limbic system, then the prefrontal cortex, mimicking our ancestral history.

The brainstem, or reptilian brain, is responsible for survival.

Reptilian Brain: The Brainstem

The brainstem, the part of the brain we have in common with the reptiles, is between the base of our brain and the top of our spinal cord.

It’s responsible for the basic housekeeping that keeps us alive and functioning.

This is our life support system. Our hearts beat, we breathe, we digest, we survive thanks to our brainstems. They take care of things that are mostly outside our conscious control, and often also outside our awareness. We’re never aware of our blood pressure until something goes wrong.

Things like arousal, sleep-wakefulness, hunger-fullness, and the delicate chemical balance that keeps us alive are all regulated by the brainstem. And it’s easy to recognize that we have these things in common with most of the animals, such as lizards, fish, birds, and cats.

This part of the brain develops in the womb and is functional by the time we’re born. It’s the first of the three parts of the brain to develop, and it has to be. It’s far more important that your body be able to take your first breath and circulate your blood than it is to regulate your emotions or write an email to your mother. The other two parts have plenty of time to fully develop.

The limbic system, or mammalian brain, is responsible for emotions and social interactions.

Mammalian brain: The Limbic System

Millions of years after animals had fully functioning brainstems, the mammals evolved. Mammals are social creatures with an emotional life. So with mammals came a well-developed limbic system. This part of the brain sits on top of the brainstem in the center of our heads. It coordinates our emotions, social relationships, and motivation.

The limbic system, our mammalian brain, helps us make emotional relevance out of events.

Your dog gets happy when you get out the leash. He’s associated the leash with walks and has positive emotions about going on a walk around the neighborhood with you.

While other animals may have emotions (birds can definitely sound angry when you disrupt them at a birdfeeder) mammalian emotions and emotional memories are more developed and have a much broader range. And the limbic system is critically important in the formation of long-term memory. We categorize memories by their emotions. More emotionally intense memories last longer and are often more readily recalled.

Not only did it evolve after the brainstem, the limbic system develops second in humans. We are not born with fully functioning limbic systems. Just look at a newborn. He can’t control his emotions. He doesn’t even smile. Sure, he makes simple associations between feelings and events (hungry = upset, full = calm), but he certainly can’t manage all those emotions yet. The brain structures that make up the limbic system aren’t fully developed until about age six. Even then, we continue to develop this part of the brain as we use it. Trauma can have a huge impact on how the limbic system functions. Not only do survivors of trauma often find their emotions (such as fear, anger, and anxiety) are out of whack, their social relationships can suffer, memories are often all-too-present – or completely out of reach.

The prefrontal cortex, or human brain, is responsible for thinking and reason.

Human Brain: Prefrontal Cortex

The final part of the brain to evolve was the prefrontal cortex. It became fully developed with the emergence of the higher primates, and particularly with human beings. The term “cortex” literally means “bark,” and the cortex is the thin outer layer of gray matter, like the bark of a tree. “Prefrontal” just means that it’s at the very front. So this is the thin, wrinkly layer of cells on the outside of your brain, just behind your forehead.

And this is a very important part of the brain.

This is the part that is so much more complicated in humans than it is in other animals. It gives us the ability to think and reason.

It makes us rational creatures. It gives us language and empathy. Its key roles are anticipating what is about to happen and planning ahead. We wouldn’t be who we are without this part of the brain.

And as anyone who remembers being a child or teenager realizes, this part of the brain takes a long time to develop. It starts early, but it certainly takes its time. While toddlers learn language, elementary school kids understand cause-and-effect, simple logic, and empathy, the prefrontal cortex undergoes massive reconstruction during adolescence, which in brain development terms lasts from age twelve until about age twenty-four. So the prefrontal cortex isn’t done with its initial development until we’re in our early to mid-twenties.

The Three-Part Brain.

How the Three-Part Brain Relates to Anxiety

Anxiety is trying to protect us from a very wide range of danger. These threats can loosely be seen as connected to any of the three parts of the brain: survival, emotional-social, or rational.

The survival threats of harm can be from physical sources: immediate ones such as a bookcase that’s precariously leaning over, or a chronic threat like a violent ex that just might show up at your door one day.

The brainstem is responsible for the shut-down response – the freeze response – that reptiles use as a first line of defense under threat. We carry an ancient survival skill of playing dead – either holding perfectly still or going completely limp – and often shutting down our basic awareness of what is going on around us. Under extreme duress, we go into shut-down as a last-ditch effort to survive.

Anxiety can alert us to social threats, too. Back in the early days of humanity, being part of a social group was necessary to survival. Exile from the group was certain death, so your ancestor had better find a way to fit in.

We face that threat of not belonging to our social circles in a dizzying variety of ways today. And even if we might not physically die if we are rejected, it can feel like we might. That’s partly because it isn’t just a legacy from ages past.

As babies and small children, we would die if we were rejected. First, not getting our physical needs met means starving to death. But even in orphanages, they’ve found that when workers who are overwhelmed and understaffed manage to meet babies’ physical needs but not hold, soothe, and pay attention to them, some infants will simply die, even though they had enough to eat.

Belonging to a group is truly life-or-death from the beginning of our lives, and it’s no surprise we continue to be anxious about social rejection.

We face threats on a rational or thinking brain level as well. The primary tasks of our prefrontal cortex are anticipation and interpretation. This leads directly to the human ability to worry. Your dog might tear up the trash can if you come home late to feed him, but he doesn’t worry that you’re near the bottom of the dogfood bag and don’t get paid until next week.

On the one hand, the ability to reason, plan, and anticipate are wonderful blessings that enable us to thrive and live longer. On the other hand, the ability to worry about the future is one of the doorways to much human suffering.

Recruiting the Different Parts

Each of our three brain parts has a different way of causing and responding to anxiety.

One thing that can be helpful to do when we’re anxious and can’t easily calm ourselves is to notice which part of our brain is most anxious.

If it’s mainly in our reptilian brain, you might feel it physically – either your heart is racing and you’re breathing fast or you are feeling spaced out, numb, and sluggish. Or both at the same time – like one foot on the gas and one foot on the brake. If this is the strongest part of your anxiety, try to engage another part of your brain. Connect with another person to turn on your mammalian brain, or recite boring, logical facts to yourself to engage your human rational brain. Even pull out a book and make yourself read a couple of paragraphs about anything.

If your mammalian brain is anxious – you’re overwhelmed with emotions or feeling abandoned or rejected, then engage the human brain or the reptilian brain. This is where breathing exercises, regular exercises, taking a walk or a hot bath can engage your brainstem and recruit it to calm you down.

Likewise, if your human, rational brain is worrying non-stop, it’s time to get out of your thoughts and use your mammalian or reptilian brains. Just focusing on your body, your emotions, or another person – or maybe listening to music – can bring down the intensity of the fear and worry.

The idea of learning about the three-part brain model to help with anxiety is to meet each part’s needs where it is, and to recruit other parts to help when one gets overwhelmed. It takes a little practice, but even the act of practicing can remove you from the anxiety and give you something else to do with your three-part brain.

Anxiety and the Brain: What is Anxiety?

Anxiety is an uncomfortable part of being a human being. In some measure, almost all of us experience it. We can often point to signs of anxiety in ourselves, maybe a restlessness or rumination, maybe a churning in our stomachs or sense of trying to fight off dread. Or it just may be a sense of activation that spurs us to take care of daily tasks and plan ahead.

With so many of us feeling an extra level of anxiety lately, it’s worth looking at exactly what it is before we delve further into how it operates in our brains and bodies. The Oxford Language Dictionary defines anxiety as, “a feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease, typically about an imminent event or something with an uncertain outcome.”

This describes the both the feelings of anxiety and points to the two main triggers for anxiety: imminent threat and an unknown future. As we’ll discuss, each has a different mechanism in the brain to start anxiety.

Anxiety Signals Threat or Danger

The purpose of anxiety is to prepare us mentally and physically to avoid danger, and if that’s not possible, then to face it. Anxiety’s goal is to protect us. The opposite of anxiety is feelings of safety, not necessarily calm. Anxiety and excitement can physically feel similar.

You can be excited and energized and not anxious as long as you feel safe. Calming ourselves down only works when we can also convince ourselves that we’re relatively safe.

It’s worth stressing that not all anxiety is bad and needs to be “cured.” Anxiety has saved countless lives by protecting us from harm. There are plenty of good reasons to be anxious, and it is okay to be anxious sometimes.

If the Capitol has just been breached and you’re hiding inside it, the most natural feeling in the world is anxiety. It will motivate you to keep you safe. If you have been exposed to COVID, anxiety will help you plan out your next steps to quarantine, get tested, and tell your close contacts.

Separating the feeling into the two brain circuits that cause anxiety.

Two Core Symptoms/Circuits

Neurologically speaking, the feeling we commonly call anxiety comes from two separate networks in the brain. One is called “The Fear Circuit,” and the other is the “The Worry Loop.” Since anxiety is the combination – often in different proportions – of two related but different brain circuits, it’s no wonder it’s so hard to describe. Let’s break it down.

The Fear Circuit.

The Fear Circuit

The Fear Circuit centers around the role of the amygdala in the brain. The amygdala is a small, primitive brain structure that is common to humans, mammals, reptiles, fish, and birds.

Evolutionarily speaking, it’s very old, and it has been doing its job as the fire alarm or smoke detector in the brain for many millions of years.

We’ll explore this further in a future post, but the Fear Circuit bypasses the thinking part of your brain when it recognizes danger.

The Fear Circuit is triggered when you face a life-and-death threat. When confronted by a bear, the amygdala registers that your life is in jeopardy and sends out the message to your brain and body to react, even before you are aware you “see” the bear.

It initiates the fight-flight-freeze response, trying to find the best course of action to ensure that you’ll survive the encounter. You don’t actually get a conscious say in which option your brain chooses. People often berate themselves for years about why they responded in a certain way, maybe freezing instead of fighting back, when you don’t get much conscious input. Your basic survival skills step in and take over.

Fear can be expressed at times as either panic or phobia.

Two of the ways we see the Fear Circuit at work when anxiety becomes dysfunctional are panic and phobia. If you’ve ever had a panic attack, you’ve felt the Fear Circuit at work. The same thing happens when we develop a phobia: an overly fearful reaction to something harmless, or a fear that is well out of proportion to the threat of harm. This is the amygdala sending out a false alarm.

The Worry Loop.

The Worry Loop

Sometimes with anxiety, our conscious minds are very much involved. This is when our Worry Loop is triggered. The Worry Loop is a tract of neurons, or cells in the brain, that runs in a loop between three areas of the brain.

One of those parts of the brain is the prefrontal cortex, where our higher-level thinking happens. Our thoughts, planning, and imagination are all thanks to our prefrontal cortex. So are language and empathy. When our Worry Loop gets overactivated, signals are running in a circle, bouncing like a pinball, engrossing our prefrontal cortex.

This is the kind of anxiety that is uniquely human. It’s thanks to our ability to anticipate and interpret events.

Skills worth the cost of anxiety. And there is a purpose to our worry. Our worry is there to help us plan before we act. Only when it gets out of control and we keep on worrying does it become counterproductive.

Negative bias

Part of the reason we feel overly anxious about unlikely threats is what scientists and mental health professionals call negative bias. This is where our brains play out “better safe than sorry.” We are hard-wired to overestimate danger, threat, and risk.

This is because over thousands of years of human evolution, and in the whole animal kingdom, those of us who erred on the side of caution were more likely to survive to adulthood and pass on our anxious genes.

It is safer to assume a stick is a snake and to jump back than it is to assume a snake is a stick and get bitten.

We are all descended from the anxious survivors who ran or fought, not the easy-going ones who were slow to respond to danger.

Anxiety Exists for a Reason

I will say it again: anxiety is not always a bad thing. The Fear Circuit has probably saved your life more than once, if only by keeping you from stepping out into traffic or causing you to brake quickly when the car in front of you stops. The Worry Loop helps you plan for the future and figure out the best course of action.

Much of this kind of anxiety is the arousal of being alive. It keeps us safe and proactive in the world. We will have imminent threats, and we will need to make plans to perform at our best at times. We need anxiety to do this. Complacency isn’t a very good survival strategy.

There are times when we experience ongoing high levels of anxiety. Some of the time the anxiety makes perfect sense. When there is a chronic threat to your safety, such as living with a violent person in your home, the anxiety is not dysfunctional, the situation is.

For this kind of anxiety, what’s ultimately needed is a solution to the ongoing threat. Some kind of intervention or change of environment is needed. It won’t hurt to learn anxiety reduction skills, but they are only going to be somewhat helpful. How would it make sense to be relaxed in a tiger’s cage?

Anxiety has two core symptoms: fear and worry, and nine peripheral symptoms. Just a few or most of them may be present.

Dysfunctional Anxiety

All of this talk about different kinds of threats and the anxiety we feel is all well and good when we can identify a real and present reason that we are anxious. But a lot of times we can’t figure out why we’re anxious, or we know that our anxiety is out of proportion to the actual threat.

When it starts to mess with our ability to enjoy life, it’s time to do something about it. We call it an anxiety disorder when it starts to interfere with our ability to function.

You may be anxious to the point you are counterproductive in dealing with your stressors. Or if you can’t do your job, take care of your daily activities, socialize, or you’re spending tons of time dealing with your anxiety, it’s become dysfunctional.

Sometimes anxiety has become a way of life in adulthood. Fear and worry may have been your best chance for getting through your childhood in one piece. Now that you’re safe and there’s no reason to chronically be at red alert, you’re still wired to be overly prone to anxiety. It was very functional and helpful, but now it’s not. While we need to honor the ways you managed to survive your childhood, you deserve a better present.

Stay Tuned

In the next post we’ll be exploring the Three-Part Brain. It’s a model that simplifies the brain into three major parts: the survival-focused reptilian part, the emotional and social mammalian part, and the rational human part. Understanding these three sections of our brain helps us understand how and why we feel anxiety about different things and outlines some ideas about what to do about it.

Anxiety and the Brain: An Introduction

I’m not someone who likes to be told what to do without an explanation. I refuse to follow directions I don’t understand. It’s caused me problems on more than one occasion, but I know I’m not alone. But once I learn how something works and why I ought to act, I’m likely to follow through.

That’s why I got tired of reading the same advice about anxiety: exercise. I know that’s a thing, but I didn’t feel like trying exercise to relieve anxiety until I found out why it works. It turns out that when we’re anxious, we set off the fight-flight-freeze response in our brains. If we exercise while we’re anxious, our bodies send signals back to the brain saying, “We successfully escaped the saber-toothed tiger. Good job. You can rest now.” And then we relax. That explanation made me willing to try it.

So when I’m asked about what to do about anxiety, I’m hesitant to offer advice without good explanations of the reasoning behind it.

Once we understand a bit about how our brains create anxiety, and why they do it, we’re more likely to try things that might work, and also we can come up with tailor-made answers for our unique circumstances.

But it’s hard to find new, creative solutions unless we understand the principles around what’s going on inside our heads.

My goal is to unpack a lot of the science around anxiety in an approachable way. Over the next several posts, I plan to cover information about anxiety and how it works in the brain.

Topics to Cover

The first thing to address is: What is anxiety? You may know it when you feel it, but we need to break it down, describe it and put it into words.

I’m also going to talk about the Three-Part Brain: the part of the brain we share with the reptiles, the part that we share with the mammals, and the part that is exclusive to primates. The three parts have different priorities and roles, and we need each of them for different things. It’s a great working model to use when we’re trying to figure out what is going on inside ourselves and how to get back on track.

Next is the anatomy of anxiety. There are two different circuits in the brain that create the experience of anxiety. The first is the Worry Loop, the second is the Fear Circuit. Fear and worry are the two basic components of anxiety, and I’ll explain how they each operate in the brain.

For each anxiety circuit, we’ll discuss healthy and dysfunctional anxiety. There is such a thing as healthy anxiety. Up to a point, it serves a purpose. Beyond a point, it becomes a problem. We need to both honor the anxiety that keeps us safe and know when it’s time to do something about it.

There are several different causes of anxiety, neurologically speaking. I don’t mean your ex and your car payment. I’m talking about conditioning, where we learn to be anxious about something, either over repeated exposure, or maybe one traumatic exposure. There are also genetic and environmental factors that cause one person to be more anxious than another when they’ve been through similar circumstances.

I’ll also cover treatments for anxiety. There’s a lot of diversity here. There are plenty of things you can do yourself, whether focusing on calming your body down or engaging your thinking brain to get your cognitive self back in control of the situation. We’ll also cover different types of therapy, should you need some professional help with your anxiety. And we’ll address medications. I’m not a medical doctor or a prescriber, and I can’t give medical advice, but I can cover how different types of medications work in your brain, so that you are armed with information if you decide you need to talk to your doctor.

Bite-Sized Portions

While the science behind anxiety has been rapidly progressing over the last couple of decades, and a number of great books have been written on anxiety, a lot of people prefer bite-sized pieces of information. Too much information all at once doesn’t help, and asking someone to read a book about anxiety often triggers anxiety.

Lots of people come to therapy too stressed out and with no free time or energy to read a long book. But they do want to know how their brains work. And this information will be useful to them when anxiety or panic strike, so it’s my job to educate them. But I understand that sometimes it’s hard to remember what you learned while you’re anxious. That’s a normal anxiety response. So if I put it in writing, I’ll have something to refer people to later.

One of the best books about trauma (and the anxiety that goes along with it) is The Body Keeps the Score. It’s an amazing book, and I highly recommend it. But unfortunately, eight times out of ten, if a client tells me they have tried to read it, they also say they were triggered by it and had to put it down.

I totally get it. I was triggered the first time I read it, even after years of doing my own healing work. That volume of really dense information is also highly emotionally charged, so readers get triggered, which shuts down the thinking part of the brain. Then it’s next to impossible to read, much less remember anything you’ve read.  

Conclusion

This past year has been a hard one for many of us, with global and national crises creating and compounding personal crises. And anxiety has been one of the effects of this period that has been difficult to escape. I’ve seen it everywhere, not just with clients, but in friends and family, and also in myself.

Dealing with my own anxiety in this last year involved an ongoing discussion in my head. I’ve been managing it, but it’s taken extra, conscious effort at every turn. And as I talk to people, so many who are struggling, I return to the lessons I’ve learned about myself. I know will go above and beyond when I understand why I’m doing something in the first place. And I’m know that I’m not the only one. Knowledge gives us power over anxiety. While it’s not a magic cure, it outlines a path to finding a solution to your anxiety that works best for each of us.

Write to Right

Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

I practice a form of stream-of-consciousness writing that has saved my life. Over the years, writing out my thoughts is the single most important tool I’ve used towards becoming a fully functioning person, a person with solid relationships, meaningful work, and a sense of fullness and purpose. I wrote my way out of confusion and darkness into a life worth living.

It’s happened slowly, but it’s happened intentionally. I have done many things that have made me into a person I am glad to be, and the way I’ve figured out what I need to do is by writing.

Stream-of-consciousness writing for me is like thinking aloud on paper. I don’t have any idea what I’m going to say before I start. I have no destination in mind. That’s why I refer to it as a process, or sometimes a tool. It isn’t an end or a goal in itself.

There’s something about writing like this that allows me to see and hear my thoughts reflected back to me. That gives me this bit of distance from my thoughts. It’s almost like talking them out with another person, but I never get interrupted, and I never have to worry about being judged. And my notebook is ready and available at 2:00 a.m.

Process, Not Product

In my early twenties, I said that I wrote so much because I needed to talk more than any human being was able to listen. I was going through hell, and I needed to get it out of my head, so I got it down on paper. A journal or diary would suggest that I’m writing about events that happened and my feelings about them in a semi-coherent manner that creates a thing: a journal. My writing is not remotely about creating a thing. It’s about process, not product.

My husband calls it “clearing the pipes.” My thinking get stuck somewhere along the line, and then all the emotions get backed up and overflow into my actions. Clearing the pipes helps me think, feel, and act in a smoother, more present way.

And I never read what I just wrote. Reading it is like examining the contents of the drain clog under a magnifying glass. It’s both gross and a waste of time. My intention is to keep the drain free flowing, not to dissect the clogs. If I read my writing too quickly, I bring up all those emotions again and basically trigger myself. It becomes counterproductive.

Another way to think of it is washing clothes. The act of writing, keeping the hand moving, washes my brain. I throw in smelly, dusty, dirty laundry, and when I’m done I have clean laundry – a clear mind – and feel more like myself. The words on the page are the dirty water and lint. I’m not interested in high quality laundry lint. The words on the page are the same. Some days there’s more or less of it. It changes in color and quality. But the words are not important, and definitely aren’t the point. The clean clothes are the purpose of doing laundry.

Write It Out

When I’m in a powerfully bad mood, I go to my notebook and write it out. When I’m restless or bored, I write it out. I write down whatever thoughts are going through my head at the moment. Forget backstory and context, I start with whatever I happen to be thinking. When I’m doing stream-of-consciousness writing, I keep my hand moving. I write what comes up, as it comes to me.

This has the effect of slowing my thinking down when I’m angry or anxious and my thoughts are boiling over like a pot on the stove. When I’m depressed or sad, and my thinking is moving slow as molasses in miserable little circles, keeping my hand moving and writing what comes to me loosens and awakens my faculties, like stretching out stiff muscles after spending too much time in bed.

Once my thoughts are moving at a manageable pace, I start to feel the first hints of relief. Whatever I’m feeling becomes bearable. Once I’m writing everything out – it might take several pages first – I eventually find I have started to write about what’s really bothering me. I almost always surprise myself. I didn’t know what was behind my bad mood or wild train of thought until I sat down and wrote it all out.

Writing about what’s behind the surface thoughts and emotions, I start getting somewhere. I explore whatever it is that comes up. A new insight. A new connection. An old memory. Feelings that were hiding under the feelings. And as I get it out of my head and onto paper, I start to feel better. It’s like a good therapy session. I feel heard. And I’m also listening.

Mindfulness by the Page

For me writing is a form of mindful awareness. As I write, I not only feel my emotions, thoughts, sensations, and memories, I notice myself feeling them. That bit of distance from the emotions gives me a slightly different perspective. It gives me a taste of what I might find doing meditation practices or mindfulness exercises. I awaken an ability to observe my inner workings. And when I can observe them, I can avoid becoming overwhelmed by them. When I observe parts of myself in action, I have the opportunity to interact with them, engage with them, dialog between parts of myself and work out the differences. My inner conflicts become conversations.

At best I reclaim parts of myself, but at worst I’ve let the bad mood run its course on the page. The torrent of negative emotion has washed through, without doing further damage to my relationships. I feel like I do after a workout. A good kind of tired. Sometimes I walk away with insights and a new perspective. That’s the beginning of an awakening to a facet of myself I didn’t have awareness of before.

Those moments are key to growth in my life. Those moments give me the capacity to change. I love those moments.The clarity writing brings, day after day, year after year, has allowed me to chart the course of my life. Writing has made it possible to know myself, one word at a time.

Right to Write

There is a little book by Julia Cameron called “The Right to Write.” It’s about giving yourself permission to write down your thoughts and ideas that you hear in your head instead of trying to think up what to say. What I love most about this book is that she describes something similar to my process for writing to right myself, no matter what mood I bring to the table.

I’ve customized my process over time to suit me. But I also encourage you to try it, and to be willing to adapt this form of writing to your own needs and vary it over time. For example, I rarely write first thing in the morning, and I don’t always write every day. But when I’m anxious or depressed I’ll write several times a day in short bursts. But Cameron swears by writing first thing in the morning, every single day.

I have developed a sense for how much I need to write and when I’m done. But her recommendation of three pages of longhand is about the right length to get somewhere. If you want to type it, that’s about 750 words, and if you’re on a format that doesn’t lend itself to word counts (like emailing yourself) about 40 minutes is a good length of time for working through something. Don’t use the length as an excuse, though. If you have ten minutes to write, then take that ten minutes. It’s better than nothing.

Sometimes, though, it needs to be longer. Earlier this year, before the pandemic, I had a heartbreaking day where I was helping people I love make literal life and death decisions. I couldn’t sleep the night before, so I wrote for four hours straight. I went into the next day tired, but calm, clear, centered, and able to be present in a way I couldn’t have if I hadn’t written out all the junk in my head.

Primacy of Privacy

Don’t undermine yourself by sharing your writing with someone who might not understand the context in which it was written, and don’t write for an audience. That’s a pressure that will keep your censoring yourself as you write, which is the opposite of the effect you’re going for.

Just remember to stick with the two major guidelines: first, keep your hand moving – writing or typing whatever comes up. Second, don’t read it yourself for awhile, and don’t let anybody else read it at all. You’re not creating a piece of writing, you’re clearing the pipes or unclogging your filter. The change in your mood or perspective is the end result, not the words on the page.

Cue the Excuses

I find people are very slow on taking my word for how healing writing can be. It’s easy. Its cheap. It doesn’t have to take long. If you already can’t sleep, its not taking any extra time to do it. If you’re doomscrolling on your phone because you’re anxious, that time would be better spent writing.

My feeling is that some people give all the excuses in the world to not write for one reason: they secretly know how powerful it will be. Rather than what they say – that writing risks wasting their time – they know that writing will eventually unlock the secrets of their own minds. And then they might have to change. And change is hard and scary. But change is the only way to set things right. Write to right.

Perspective

Onion Cells, 250x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

Back in middle school, we got to use the fancy microscopes three or four times. Those were my favorite days in science class. I remember feeling that a whole new world opened up that I hadn’t been able to see before. Fast forward a generation and I want to expose my own child to that incredible universe I had gotten just a glimpse of.

So I bought a microscope to use with my son the other day. His science units are starting with cells, then moving to plants, animals, fossils, and rocks, and it seemed like we could look at all sorts of things relevant to what he’s learning.

When the microscope arrived, we looked at the prepared slides that came with it and made one of our own. He was excited. I was excited. Our curiosity was piqued. Eventually, he grew tired and I carefully put it away, planning on getting it back out again a few days later for our first experiment.

Salt, Lit from Above, 100x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

But then I found that I couldn’t think of anything else fun I wanted to do. Every free moment I had I was daydreaming of that microscopic world. I was googling “microscope slides for kids” and “slides to prepare for kids.” I finally admitted to myself the only reason I was adding on “for kids” was just that I don’t own all the very cool microscope accessories to do complicated things. It had nothing to do with kids.

So after everyone was in bed I got out the microscope and played by myself. I learned to prepare slides, staining a bit of my kitchen counter in the process. I raided my kitchen and craft closet for samples and prepared a dozen wet slides. A week prior, I’d never heard the term “wet slide.”

Cheek Cells, 1000x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

Then I found I could take photos with my cell phone, which delighted me to no end. I could share this world with other people! The iodine I used as stain gave most of my slides this lovely sepia tone effect. The high-tech approach was paired with the colors of nineteenth century photographs to peek into a strange, new world.

This fresh sense of perspective in the world around me awoke something in me. I had always cognitively acknowledged it on one level but was now truly mindful of it on another level. This microscopic universe was everywhere. And it has scale!

The bacteria were tiny dots under my highest power lens. At least I think that’s what those dots in the probiotic were. But onion and mouth cells were huge. Red blood cells were much smaller than the mouth cells but far larger than the bacteria.

Merino Wool and Silk Fibers, 1000x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

Silk fibers, so soft on a macro scale, I can see under the microscope have ridges and hooks on the edges of the fibers, which lock together under hot water and friction (i.e. in the washing machine.) Cotton fibers were smooth and flattened, but the fibers kinked in places.  The cotton was so much rougher on the normal level, I wouldn’t have suspected their contrasting qualities. It fascinated me how dramatically different two strands of threads looked under the microscope.

Cotton Fibers, 1000x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

At some point I had to put the microscope away for the night. But I pondered the world that was opening up to me. I mulled over the closeness of a world beyond my eyes and senses that I don’t usually interact with knowingly and directly, but it influences me greatly, and I influence it. And the chance to visit this parallel universe, if only to glimpse it, was profoundly moving.

It was an entirely different experience than googling “onion cells” and studying the images. I could have seen even sharper images online than the ones I’m showing here. But that sense of being transported into another realm, where the normal appearances of everyday objects is changed, made it something completely different. It became a journey.

Onion Cells, 1000x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

In learning how to prepare slides – reading online and then trying and failing a few times before really understanding the process – I gained a sense of mastery over the connection between me and that microscopic world. I’m not at the mercy of an outside source to bring me information back. I get to experience it for myself any time I want to.

Reflecting further, I related this visit as Asimov’s “Fantastic Voyage” – where his character was in a ship shrunken down to a size smaller than a cell and traveled through the human body – to my relationship with other worlds that are barely visible to me.

Wooden Coffee Stir, Lit from Above, 100x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

My intuition – that sense in my gut of what is compelling or repelling, the part of me that knows what I know – is a sense I’ve had to work at over the years to learn to see and listen to. It’s subtle, and it’s easily disregarded by my overworked rational brain, but it’s just as real and just as valid. And whether I’m aware of it or not, it has an influence over the rest of me, and my logical mind has influence over it. But they are just as mysterious to each other as the world I see with my eyes and the world I see with my microscope.

Not everyone is going to have a spiritual experience looking through a microscope. Maybe that’s not your thing. I understand that. But there is something out there that can give you a fresh sense of perspective, a sense of wonder. Something to stir your curiosity.

Sugar Crystals, Lit from Below, 100x Magnification. Copyright Brie Childress, 2020.

Maybe you prefer a telescope, a mountaintop, or a waterfall. Maybe it’s the code programmed to run your favorite video game, or maybe it’s the ocean. Maybe it’s seeing the world through the eyes of a young child. Maybe it’s a cathedral, or just standing on your own roof and gazing out while you’re supposed to be cleaning the gutters.

It’s not very hard to find opportunities to visit these parallel worlds if you open yourself up to look. For $30, Amazon can deliver a microscope in two days. But you have to be willing to step outside your assumptions and routines just enough to open yourself up to something that may change you – a different perspective.