A Seat at the Table

I’ve recently been reflecting on the state of our country, the world, and how it can all feel like too much. With rapid information constantly being fed to us, a thousand platforms delivering never-ending updates, exposure to some of the most horrific things we could imagine witnessing, and then being asked to go to work, attend meetings, show up to appointments, take care of our kids, our dogs, our partners, ourselves, how could we possibly do it all?

And yet, I notice myself, my colleagues, my clients, my community so often placing the expectation on ourselves that we continue to do it all. The world is not stopping to support our nervous systems. We still have mortgages or rent to pay. We still have things that require daily tending. When so many of us are feeling frozen, exhausted, unbearably angry, deep in grief, and everything in between, we still show up. Why? Because we have to. We simply have no other choice. And many times, we place the expectation on ourselves to do it all perfectly.

Intellectually, we may understand that this is deep societal conditioning. And yet we are still part of that society. We still yearn to succeed, to feel belonging, to experience some sense of normalcy in a world that feels increasingly hostile and fast-paced.

All of this makes me think about the nervous system, my training in it, and what I see as the general rhetoric online around nervous system regulation. I have always felt both frustrated by the simplistic nature of psychoeducation via social media and grateful that it can make sometimes esoteric concepts more accessible and digestible. That being said, like everything on social media, it can easily lack the nuance that feels deeply necessary right now.

For one, I see education around the nervous system creating a kind of hierarchy, with regulation at the top. And while regulation, containment, safety, whatever you want to call it, is deeply important, it is not everything. Our nervous system is old, almost ancient compared to the rapid adaptations asked of our minds and bodies in today’s world. It makes sense that it feels frustrating when our nervous system does not quite understand that the panic before an important work meeting is not the same as being chased by a hungry, angry group of lions.

In the therapy space, this is where we work on helping the body and mind integrate. We provide psychoeducation about what is happening while simultaneously helping clients access feelings of containment or regulation, signaling to both mind and body, it is okay. I know this feels scary, but we are safe. No angry lions are chasing us.

Obviously, this is easier said than done and far more complex when we add in personal histories, trauma, and all the layers that make each of us who we are.

But with all of that in mind, what do we do when real danger feels at our doorstep? Maybe it is knocking. Maybe it feels like it is already inside. When innocent humans trying to exist are taken off the streets. When hateful, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic language is spoken by leaders of our country. When genocide is happening far away, but not so far when we open our phones and scroll from a silly tiktok dance, a mukbang video, to a child in Gaza actively dying. When sexual assault survivors are screaming to be heard while those in power continue to suppress and dehumanize over and over and over again. How do we feel regulated when it is 70 degrees in Denver in February, something both delightful and devastating, inviting feelings of impending doom around climate change?

While I am certainly not naming everything, I hope these examples resonate and affirm that if you feel unsafe right now, it may be because you are attuned, empathetic, and paying attention. Your feelings of unsafety are not proof that you are broken. They are proof of your goodness. Your humanness.

If we take social media infographics about regulation as the end all be all, then most of us feel pretty messed up right now, because honestly, who in the world feels regulated?

I do not mean to dismiss the beauty and power of safety, of regulation, or even the small or big moments of joy we choose to find amidst it all. That is what keeps us going. That is what helps us survive.

But what if dysregulation is the appropriate response to the horrors happening daily?

What if we create deeper suffering when we criticize or shame ourselves for not being regulated, when we try so hard to get there? What if instead we softened? What if, easier said than done, we allowed dysregulation to be here?

That does not mean giving in or surrendering to a lifetime of unsafety. But what if we shifted our relationship to dysregulation? Could that shift how it feels in our minds and in our bodies?

Instead of placing moral judgment on dysregulation and focusing solely on getting out of it, what if we chose to accommodate it? Maybe even find a way to honor it?

That word, accommodate, has such a different flavor to me than fix, get rid of, or work through. All that effort is exhausting when we are fighting something that may deserve to be here. All that trying is too much on our already exhausted, burnt-out bodies.

Accommodation will look different for everyone. But I invite you to sit with that word and notice how it feels. When you find yourself anxious, frustrated, exhausted, unsettled, try asking, how can I accommodate myself right now? What might I need to bring in some containment without focusing only on getting rid of this?

This is not easy. I deeply empathize, as a person navigating this world too, that sitting with discomfort, feelings of unsafety, and lack of containment is scary. Who wants that?

But as the saying goes, what we resist persists.

So what might shift if we invited our dysregulation to the table? Maybe we still side-eye it. Maybe we do not fully trust it. That is okay. Maybe the first step is simply asking it,

How are you?