Get a hold of your Narrator:The use of literary techniques to overcome fear
I am 12 years old and my feet just pierced the ice of a frozen lake. My legs are submerged by the icy cold water, up to my knees. Despite the warm winter boots, I can feel my toes shrivel. I am about to panic when my brain hears my mom’s voice shouting in a sturdy tone “Marjorie. Let’s go, we have to move, we have to go to the cottage”. My mom knows that I am too heavy for her to carry. And she knows that if my brain takes the time to process, I will stay there, and my toes will freeze to death. The one solution is for me to walk _ fast. The only solution is for her to tell the part of my brain that is wired to survive, to just put one step in front of the other. Despite the cold. Despite the pain. Despite the fear. What comes next is the longest 25 minutes of my childhood. I could even probably say _ of my life.
Until yesterday…
Yesterday, it was me in the mom’s role. And I was trying to keep my son from fainting. His feet weren’t cold from icy water, but they were tingling with pins and needles. His heartbeat was literally over 160 bpm. Yet he wasn’t moving. He had texted me from school and had told me he wasn’t feeling well. A young teenager in the body of man, a body that is potentially in the midst of failing him. He is scared and I am trying not to be. Because I need to be strong, focused and I need to come up with a plan. A really good plan. One that will get him to the hospital quickly. His heart is tachycardic and so is mine. Except that for mine, it is adaptive. Mama bear has awakened. Her cub is in danger.
In insight, I probably should have called an ambulance. But here I am. In my adapted van. My kid in the back. Focused on the road. Keeping an eye on him through the mirror. Making sure he is still here. Awake.
My brain wants to take me there. In that place where we think of the worst. I know what it looks like. A friend of mine died – just like that – of arrythmia. His heart just stopped. With no warning. My brain is there. But I can’t afford to be. I got my kid to save. And so every time I think of the worst… I say to myself: “Marjorie, this isyou’re your story, and this is certainly NOT his.”
I study positive psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. And I am a student of narratives and storytelling.
A few weeks ago, I read Wonderworks from Angus Fletcher and it validated what I cam to realize a few years ago: we get to narrate our stories the way we want. And mine, in this moment, is NOT the story of the mom who panics, not the story of the mome who let’s fear in, and certainly not the story of the mom who gets paralyzed by her emotions. No. Right now, I am the mom who uses her emotions to get ultra-focused so that I can make the best decisions and get my kid to the hospital. And for that, I need to be able to make the better decisions at every turn: do I get on the highway and risk being stuck in traffic? Or do I stay on the service road and risk having all the red lights? My son’ s life and health depend on it.
We each have that little voice in our mind that speaks to us (Kross, 2021). Call it whatever you want. That voice _ tells us stories. About ourselves. About the world. And about how we are in the world. That voice _ holds great power.
My narrator kept me in check (Fletcher, 2021). Reminded me that whatever the outcome, I got to choose, right in this moment, to be the mom who gets her son the care he needs. To be the mom who tries not to let panic sets in, and be felt by him (now according to him, I failed _ But I tried…).
I talked to myself. Said my name. Spoke in the 2nd person. And was specific on what I could control in that moment. I said: “Marjorie, now focus on what you need to do. Get him to the hospital.” I zoomed-out, distancing myself from the strong emotions I was feeling at that moment (Kross, 2021).
Saying our names and speaking in the 2nd or 3rd person helps control our little voice.
Distancing ourselves brings in multiple possibilities, allows us to foresee obstacles and prepare accordingly. It doesn’t overtax our brain. Liberating our cognitive functions to plan accordingly. “When you have no plan, you feel fear” (Angus Fletcher). If I have a plan, I can’t be scared.
Be aware of the stories you tell yourself _ as they are shaping your life.
We got lucky. Or my focused brain got him in the hospital in time. He is fine.
We don’t know yet what happened, but we will find out.
***
Aunos, M. (2021). Once upon a second time. Speaker Slam Grand Slam Winning Speech. https://youtu.be/uGoQ2b45Wgw?si=tUDmkzfktAobGrFq
Fletcher, A. (2021). Wonderworks: The 25 most powerful inventions in the history of Literature. Simon and Schuster.
Kross, E. (2021). Chatter: The Voice in Our Head, Why it Matters, and How to Harness it. Crown.
written by
Marjorie Aunos, PhD., is an internationally renowned researcher, adjunct professor, clinical psychologist, and award-winning inspirational speaker from Montreal, Canada.
