I want to talk about the reptilian part of my brain (and yours)

Why do we feel the need to show the world that we have it together? Why is there this obsessive need to guard our reputation? 

What’s going to happen if we let the people around us in on it? 

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These days, I find myself contemplating this long and hard. Yeah, I am looking for the next gig, so this kind of time is easy to come by. Also, self-deprecating humor has never been my strong suit. 

Anyway, Coming back. 

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I feel like that most of my life I have lived through the reptilian part of my brain. This part of the brain is all about avoiding pain and is laser-focused on survival. It might suffice to say that fear drives this part of the brain. The only problem is that right now I am not being chased by lions and bears, nor am I swimming with sharks, and avoiding physical pain is last on my list. Emotional pain is another story. 

Now in the absence of tigers, floods, famines, sharks and bears—the average human, in this case—I find myself obsessively planning things that I have no control over. 

• The next amazing work opportunity that will rock my world 
• The future, where I will own a private jet or travel only business class 
• The future, where I will shop till I drop 
• The day I deadlift 200 kilos or bench it 
• When I start doing something for my community and so on. You get the drift. 

Fact of life is that I am clueless about all of that. But when you see me, you will see a rather put-together person, prone to oversharing and just breezing through life. My inner dialogue, fuelled by my reptilian brain, is another story.

My reptilian brain tells me: 

1. I didn’t lift as heavy as I usually do today 
2. It has been a while since I found a job
3. My savings might just run out in the near future 
4. I should book the cheapest flight, even though I detest that airline 
5. I shouldn’t buy any more books; I am not reading what I already have 

But in conversations with me, I will casually allude to my job search or my search for meaning and tell you very excitedly about the most beautiful chicken stew I made last week. I mean, I loved the chicken stew, but it’s not the most pressing thing on my mind. 

Then, if perhaps you dig a little, I will tell you of therapy, meditation and how my home is being renovated. But what I am really thinking is that I am done with resting; I need a role today that I’d love to throw myself into. 

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And what happens when I let people into it? 

Forced positivity and pithy euphemisms—so much so that now I say it to myself, “This too shall pass.” Duh yes. It will pass. I have been alive so long, haven’t I? I know times change and things look up, down and sideways. That’s ok. Don’t tell me that. 

Maslow’s hierarchy: focus on physiological needs. I have people telling me, "Listen, you have enough to eat, read, and sleep. And you have shelter and lovely clothes.” Um, yeah, I do. That doesn’t mean I don't have other things I want to do with my money. 

Sarcasm/ Humor- maybe? I don't know. - Here, some folks have told me, to my face, “Oh no! Really? You are not getting a job. Why? The job market can’t be so bad.” Or, “Imagine what’s going to happen to me if you are unable to find a job.” Or “You are asking for so much money; it’s more than mine also.” 

So what’s the point of this article? 

When people let you in, it’s almost like they are letting you view a very troubled, disturbed part of themselves. Actually, no, it’s exactly like that. 

So don’t hide behind humor or sarcasm. I understand that another’s discomfort is difficult to sit with. It’s tough. But you can will yourself to just hold space for them. You can’t fix their problem. But you can sit with them. 

Here are a few things that you can try - 

• If you don’t know what to say, ask them, “what can I do for you?” 

At max the requests will be: can you check in your office to see if they have any roles, or can you look through my CV and tell me what you think. Nobody is going to ask you for your job or for you to pay their EMIs.

It’s not a crime to not know what to say; simply say that—say, “I don’t know what to say.” Nobody wants to make it awkward, but those truck sticker-type wisdom that you dispense—that’s awkward. 

• Just listening also does wonders; sometimes the reptilian brain has us wound so tight that we can’t listen to our inner monologue. But hearing it out when talking to a friend clears things up so much. 
• Share your own reptilian stories. When somebody is baring their heart out to you, after they are done, share your own heart. Tell them a story from your life or one that you were privy to that will instill some kind of energy in them. It’s not that tough. 

There are a ton of things about life that we don’t know the answers to and things that we absolutely can't control. 

But what makes it better is the community.

If we can talk about the painful, awkward, and weird stuff without others feeling pained, awkward and weird - the other things will find their way.

The reptilian brain is weird, you know.

Once you are distracted from its chatter, you can actually get things done, like applying for jobs after reading the JDs and reaching out to people in your network. Otherwise, the reptilian part will keep swishing its tail and knocking you onto your back.