At 62, I consider myself a fairly wise woman. Yet, somehow surprised that after a long, long marriage my soon to be ex spouse was no longer wanting to be married. Also surprised by the inner workings of the vehicle in which I live, this primal body, this body which had served me so well over the years was about to take over all executive functioning- basically my sleep and my focus. Two pretty essential tools in my life. I meditate, I exercise, I journal, I socialize, I’m intellectually stimulated and yet fear, that son of a bitch, still showed up reminding me to stay small, don’t be vulnerable, avoid boundaries-you never know what’s out there.( Scary music playing in the background.)

Finally, I’ve named this primal fear center, Myg, short for the amygdala. The amygdala is an almond sized primal organ charged with the safety of my vehicle, my body. Riddling me, it demands don’t speak up, you don’t need to go to that event, you’re not a part of that group. Paralyzing at times, telling me that recovering from divorce, EVER having a relationship with my ex and moving forward ain’t gonna happen. Yes, I observe fear parking in my and my client's minds and lives, disabling our wisdom, autonomy and beauty.

The neurobiology is clear about the when, where and why of this fear center, the amygdala. In ancient times if we left our tribe, stood out or entered an unknown village we put ourselves at great risk. Staying small kept us safe. Our prefrontal cortex, the organ which provides reason and discernment is only about a million and 1/2 years old. Myg, the older, stronger and annoying sibling, is 4 million years old, that says Screw your reasoning, I'm in charge. The amygdala might go along with you playing with newer friends, but think about dating after divorce? It grabs by the scruff of neck or jerks the ear, admonishing, what do you think you’re doing? Where do you think you’re going? It calls back to cave, to the den, to the litter of safety.

Something had to give. In order to live the life I want to be living, Myg and I had to find some middle ground. Its clear this fear system is not going anywhere . Just try holding your breath, it will drop you to the floor and take over that breathing system with ease. The arrogance to think that I could overpower this 4 million year old vehicle was child-like, maybe I am the younger sibling? Maybe I needed to grow up and accept the body in which I live, because the Myg system is here to stay. Could I tip my hat in appreciation of it’s function? that my tribe has survived? Could I respect it, negotiate and find middle ground? Could I get Myg to the table?

I queried, how can my higher self, my prefrontal cortex, strengthen enough to get and stay in the driver’s seat. Accept that Myg may ride in the back, or OK, shotgun sometimes, but I make the final decisions. The argument began with the voice that told me I am not a good meditator, that I’m too busy, that I just don’t settle down. And when I do it, I am not consistent. I asked my fear center, "Myg, can you give me 5-10 minutes of quiet in the morning.” Myg called me out, saying you always say that but you stay up late on your computer, or phone and then we have to hustle in the morning. Its not safe to trust you, let’s just keep doing what we’ve been doing, we’re managing fine. Ouch! Owning my part was like receiving that homework back with a grade that you know you deserved. The truth.

But there was also another truth. I am not managing fine. My higher self is weary of the undisciplined life, the scared life. Myg knows that it can wait out this period and keep things the same. Persevering, I went to the basics, the breath. Box breathing, works for the Navy Seals, maybe it can it hurdle Myg. Breathe in for four counts, hold for four counts, breathe out for four counts, hold for four counts. Do it three times. My system settles. I put a note in my restroom to remind me to breathe. After all, I am in there at least 6 times a day. (Probably closer to 10, whose kidding who?) But I digress… I can teach my brain to observe the sacred pause with box breathing. The angst retrieves. I take that 10 minutes to meditate every morning. I am kinder with myself, continue the box breathing and "my morning ten" and things start to change.

As with all relationships, it takes time, compassion, patience and a good sense of humor to discuss and celebrate our various parts. Myg was no different. We walked hand in hand and my world expanded. Then, I moved to a new city to grandparent. …Defcon 1, screw the psychobabble, unknown, unknown, shields up. I retreat. It feels like we are back to square one. Myg tries my patience when I think about dating. Then frustration and depression knock at my door. The breath provides that sacred pause to remind me of the truth. It is simply new terrain. My friend Myg is looking out for me. We talk about it. Structure and reliability assures Myg that they can lower shields a little each week. I breathe, I talk with them through journaling, we negotiate and taste the fruit of a satisfied life.

My companion, Myg the amygdala, is here to stay. Accepting the weight of their paralyzing cloak transforms the heft to the weight of a dentist’s apron and then a simple coverlet. With breath, structure and tenacity, we walk to and through the unknown. This thing called life.

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