Don't Get Angry, Get Curious

Anxiety and depression make non-reactivity a challenge for me. I am easily overwhelmed and struggle with sorting my thoughts. This isn't an always issue for me, but it does occur regularly enough that I have had to work hard to create coping mechanisms for myself to prevent lashing out reactively, especially as a parent.

My reactivity stems from nature and nurture. I was born with neurological differences. I am autistic. With that comes ADHD, anxiety and depression. But those also come from violence and instability in my home when I was a child, culminating in post-traumatic stress disorder. Essentially, the deck for not exploding emotionally is stacked against me, but this doesn't make me incapable of self-control. What it means is that I have to work very hard to maintain my personal balance to stay in control.

I never understood this about myself until I had children. My first child triggered PTSD. I began having flashbacks of abuse when he was very young. I regularly experienced terrifying, intrusive thoughts. The day he was hitting me in a fit of toddler pique and I struck him back thinking he was my father was the day I began the journey to become curious instead of angry.

Let me take a moment to say that anger stems from fear. It is the manifestation of what ifs and because ofs. Anger is a self-defense mechanism that allows us to move from fear into a place of power. But that doesn't mean we aren't still afraid. And that's half of why it's important to get curious when we get angry.

The other half of getting curious is finding out more about the situation causing our anger. When my son was hitting me, he was tired, maybe hungry. He was small and out of control. When I look at his behavior in context, I have no reason to fear or defend. Instead, my impulse shifts to protecting him and tending his needs.

A flashback complicated that in the moment I'm speaking of, and while I have fewer flashbacks, I still cannot control them. What I can do is control my body when I'm in a flashback to some degree. That skill is one I'm still developing, and I'm happy to say I no longer physically strike out 90% of the time, and the times I do I am able to pull back before making contact. This is because I have trained my brain to ask critical questions about what is happening and why in the moment.

The process is simple but difficult. It requires dedication to staying "in the moment" even when the moment is triggering. For me, this was an absolute requirement. I am unwilling to pass on my parents' abusive legacy. Yet it extends well beyond parenting and into all of my relationships. I want to be a person who can understand and be understood without causing harm or internalizing violence.

I have several tools I use to maintain this goal.

The first step is asking "what is happening right now?"

When I ask the question, I ask it of my environment, those around me and my body. This reminds me of who and where and when I am, factors which can be consumed by reactivity.

I take a breath.

This forces me to pause and move further into my body in the moment. Even if we aren't experiencing a flashback, when we are reactive we are likely reacting to a memory or a possibility. Staying in our bodies keeps us in the present rather than the past or potential future.

Finally, I assess my situation.

Am I in physical danger? If there is a person at the center of my heartstorm, are they purposefully trying to incite my rage? Who are they in comparison to me. Again, this usually happens with my kids. I don't need to verbally eviscerate a five-year-old. I can't think of when I would ever need to enact verbal violence, but the impulse is always there. So I must then inquire as neutrally as possible if I am correctly hearing/receiving what the person speaking/acting is trying to convey. Some ways to do that begin:

Am I hearing you say . . . ?
I'm not sure I fully understand. Do you mean . . . ?

and sometimes,

Is everything okay?

This is where it gets tricky: Lots of people speak without internal clarity. This means they don't know what they are trying to say. Asking them can cause them to become defensive. I know this because I get defensive when I'm speaking from an unclear or reactive place. I feel like the person trying to clarify is trying to tear me down rather than understand me. I have to focus on that breath and slow my roll.

Asking whether everything is okay is an olive branch in fraught times. It implies a willingness to listen and hear. Don't offer it if you don't mean it. Remember, they may need to work out their intentions so you may be in for a long haul. If you aren't up for that, consider saying, "I need to think about what's happening right now and would like to talk about it later." You can even add, "when I feel safe." Some will feel those are fighting words, so say them for you. They are a reminder for you that you are going to do self-care by calming down and working to understand why the emotional maelstrom is happening.

Most important is that you are willing to be wrong. Reactivity skews our perception of the truth. If we are capable of accepting we've misinterpreted the situation, we are more likely to reach a non-violent resolution. This means taking into consideration that we actually are misunderstanding when the answer to whether we've got it right is no. This does not mean we absorb all the blame. Boundaries are essential in communication. People who were raised like I was often assume we are at full fault and that the onus is on us to correct course. This leads to compromising personal values which can create later reactivity and feelings of shame.

The hardest truth I've had to accept is that reactivity does not make me a bad person or parent. I only cross that line when I refuse to break the behavioral pattern.

Do you struggle with reactivity? When and why?