To understand how trauma is experienced by humans, it’s helpful to look at what happens in animals in the wild. Despite going through the harrowing experiences we’ve all seen on the Nature channel, why is it that animals in the wild can be chased, hunted, attacked, and threatened without becoming traumatized?
My teacher Peter Levine, the founder of Somatic Experiencing and author of Waking the Tiger, offers some important clues.
Imagine a small deer in a sunny meadow. The deer is peacefully munching on grass when it hears a noise. The deer instinctively lifts its head up, perks up its ears and orients to the sound. Its neck, face and eyes turn toward the disturbance while its heart begins to pump faster, flooding its arms and legs with blood preparing it to fight off a predator or flee if necessary. Its sympathetic (alert) nervous system has been activated. Based on millions of years of evolution that have honed its instincts, the animal quickly discerns that the sound was benign - maybe that of a twig snapping - and without missing a beat, goes back to grazing. Within moments, its heart rate goes back to normal and blood leaves the large muscle groups of the legs and arms and moves once again to the digestive system and central organs. The parasympathetic (rest-and-digest) system of the body is activated once again and all is well.
But let’s say the deer turns and hears that the noise in the bushes maybe isn’t benign but is presenting a threat.
What happens next?
In this case, once again the deer orients to the sound and its sympathetic nervous system becomes activated. It senses that maybe there is a threat. Immediately the deer’s instinctual response system assesses whether the sound is more like that of a small gopher, which it can easily fight off if necessary, or if it is a more fierce and faster predator, perhaps a cheetah. If it’s a smaller animal, the deer will fight it off and survive. It will use its life-saving capacity for healthy aggression and will actually feel more vital, energized and alive by protecting itself with the fight response.
Once again, no trauma results here.
But what if the deer senses that a cheetah caused the disturbance? An animal that is a natural predator and is both larger and faster than the small buck? What happens next?
In this case, the deer will instinctively begin to flee the scene and a chase sequence begins. The buck will run and run as quickly as it can to get away from the deadly and ferocious predator. It runs as fast as it can, but there is no way it can escape the feline. The cheetah gets closer and closer as they run, literally, for life or death across the savannah.
As the deer continues to lose its lead on the great cat, it becomes clear that its strategy of fleeing and running away will not save him. He cannot outrun the cheetah and knows that, unless something extraordinary happens, it will almost certainly soon feel the steely jaws of the cheetah ripping into its flesh.
Instinctively the deer once again changes its survival strategy. It could not fight the bigger cat and it can’t flee from it. So the deer takes one more shot at survival and employs its final strategy.
Let’s see what happens.
As the cheetah gets closer and closer, suddenly the deer stops running and abruptly falls over as if dead on the plain. The deer knows that freezing in this way (playing possum, as it were) offers two potential life-affirming benefits.
First, by freezing, the deer’s physiology shuts down and produces powerful pain-relieving hormones, literally the same substances as opioids. In the event the cheetah does catch up to him and its powerful jaws clamp the prey’s flesh, the pain will be dulled. Secondly, because cheetah and other predators aren’t scavengers and won’t eat animals they haven’t killed, the feline might see the deer lying down and think it’s dead. With some luck, what might even happen is that the cheetah sniffs around at the deer, determines it’s dead and decides to walk away and leave the scene. At that point, once the coast is clear, the deer will get up, unscathed from the encounter.
The most interesting thing you'll see though is what happens after the deer gets up.
Once it’s determined it is in a safe enough place, the deer will begin to shake, tremble and take some deep spontaneous breaths. Remember before the deer stopped racing it was going incredibly fast, perhaps speeds of more than 30 miles per hour. An enormous amount of life force energy was moving through its body, as if the gas pedal was to the metal. Going into a sudden freeze response in this way is akin to slamming on the breaks. Imagine how much energy would be spent in your car if both the gas and the brakes were slammed down at the same time. There would be a huge expenditure of energy, or revving, but zero forward or backward movement. By getting up and spontaneously shaking, trembling and breathing deeply, the deer’s nervous system is reset and it goes back to doing its deer-thing. No trauma results.
What happens in humans
Obviously in more ways than we commonly acknowledge, we are much like animals in the wild, especially when it comes to our survival strategies. You might recall using some or all of these strategies yourself.
So what is it that animals are doing differently that we aren’t? And why is that?
Like animals, we, too, have the natural impulse to discharge overwhelming experiences. But in humans, our egos often get in the way. We don’t want to look weird shaking in the middle of the grocery store when our kid is acting wild. We don’t want to allow ourselves to tremble and cry at work when we get a call that our mom’s diagnosis isn’t good. After all, we don’t want people to think we’re unprofessional or called hysterical, a judgment that often gets hurled at anyone expressing even the slightest hint of emotional energy in corporate work environments. And especially if we are from marginalized and oppressed communities that are already considered threatening in certain shame-based environments in dominant culture, we certainly don’t want to express ourselves for fear of further alienation, ridicule, job losses and even death.
So instead what do we do?
In what leading trauma-expert Bessel Van Der Kolk, author of The Body Keeps the Score, calls “the post-alcoholic culture” of modern America, we drink, drug, eat, obsess, shop, overwork, have compulsive sex and do whatever else we can to cope with that unprocessed energy.
What makes the difference? Education and Resources.
