the cost of hypervigilance
A psychological term for something that feels familiar to most of us, hypervigilance is technically what we experience when we're extremely wary of danger. All our senses are charged up, alert to detect a potential assault. Imagine yourself in a B movie, walking back to your hotel room in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It's gotten dark, the streets are deserted. A cat yowls and bolts across your path. A streetlight blinks out suddenly, leaving you in an even darker level of gloom. A scraping, dragging noise starts up behind you. You pause mid-stride, wanting to source the sound. You stop, the sound stops. You look behind you, but the street is empty. The sound inexplicably starts back up again when you start walking. It's only when you make it back to your room unharmed that you relax, sorta. And you shake with a post-adrenal rush.
Our bodies are ready to spring into action when faced with a threat, whether it's to defend ourselves or a make a mad dash away from an attack. The tense poised-for-action response of the body is entirely based on our anthropological history. We get goose bumps, so our hair stands slightly erect (that makes us look a little bigger), our eyes widen (the better to scan the horizon for any surprises) and our fists clench (tightening around the ghost of the rock or spear our ancestors carried). Our senses are charged with noticing everything in the vicinity.
Hypervigilance is useful. We wouldn't have survived as a species without the capacity to flip into this super wary mode. But being constantly on guard is exhausting. We're not designed to stay in that mode without real physical detriments. The psychic costs are enormous when we always think the sky is falling, the muggers will get us or disaster will strike us down. As long as we are focused on a perceived threat, we cannot move forward without being distracted. If the danger is not immediate or physical, but we are consumed with dread about what might happen next, we have lost our capacity to plan and judge and focus and act. The paralysis prevents us from taking productive steps.
I'm hearing a lot of hypervigilant talk these days, the grinding anxiety of which can wear us down.
When there is no immediate or physical danger, this level of intense arousal is self-defeating. Calming self-talk, planning small and reasonable next moves (and making a commitment to take one of those moves every day), finding support in conversation, and developing a mindfulness meditation practice are all ways psychologists suggest we manage this experience. Take a minute for three slow simple breaths to calm yourself and notice what is working in your life. You'll recognize that the roof is not on fire right now (and if it is, you better not be reading this) and you have some time to relax your shoulders and make a plan. Take one small productive action every day.
Use your vigilant energy wisely.
