By Andrew Linares, Psychotherapist
Some years ago, I was walking along a sparsely visited trail outside of Evergreen, Colorado, and my appreciation for the beauty of the environment was in full effect. My mind drifted from thoughts of gratitude for the “aliveness” of this place to the wonderful insights gained during the previous weekend's meditation retreat. I specifically chose this location because I wanted to be solitarily immersed in the grandeur of Nature and to hear what She had to say.
A couple of miles out, I entered a part of the trail that was not well marked, and I had to look for the various flags demarcating the way forward. All of a sudden, the sound of a crackling branch drew my attention, and I looked up to see the haunches of a large and powerful mountain lion up in a tree about 40 feet away. Dear reader, I wish that I could say that I followed all of the advice that I had been given about what to do when you encounter a big cat (stay calm, make yourself large, slowly back away, and in the worst-case scenario, make noise and throw rocks or branches at it), but I did not. I screamed an expletive, immediately turned around, and ran off like a mad man. There was no rationality to it, only re-action. The mountain lion did not follow me, but I was not aware of that fact, nor did I really care at that moment. I just ran. Up and down the mountain, over and over again, I was frantically searching for the flags to guide me back to safety, but they did not present themselves. In the process, I proceeded to get completely lost in the backcountry with a big cat somewhere in the vicinity. I was all alone and I was terrified.
“There was no rationality to it, only reaction...I proceeded to get completely lost in the backcountry with a big cat somewhere in the vicinity.”
After the adrenaline-infused spike of energy dissipated, I was left not knowing where I was, or how to return home. I eventually climbed to the top of a large rock outcropping to see if I could get a better perspective of my location. It didn't help. I took inventory of the tools I had in my pack (not enough to survive), and my irrational thoughts bounced from proclaiming that “Today is not my day to die,” to choosing the final words I would write to say goodbye. My screams of “HELP” echoed across the valley. I was in full-on Victim mode, and I cried. I mean, I straight up ugly cried. No one was coming to save me.
The sun was beginning its final arc into the evening, and without a headlamp, I only had a couple of hours of light left. On the mountain across the valley, I thought I spied what could have been a road, so I made the decision to keep the rock outcropping directly behind me and head straight towards that “road.” Without a compass, it was the only thing I could think to do to keep myself on a straight trajectory. I mustered my courage and set forth....not ten minutes later, I stumbled upon the path. Plain as day, there it was. Safety.
By the time I arrived at the car, my body was tense and I was totally exhausted. When I got home, I took a hot shower and my entire body began to shake. I allowed it to happen, and afterward, I felt a sense of deep peace and gratitude.
Reflecting upon the day's experience: The mountain lion (an external stimulus) was a trigger for me, and I completely lost my center. I reacted rather than responded, and I made the situation worse. I became lost in the terrain, embraced the Victim role, and desperately wanted someone to come save me. Despite the fear, I was able to pause, return to my center, and accept that no one was coming. I had to get Me out of this situation. While I was not guaranteed success, I had agency, and I needed to use it...
Since this experience, beyond always making sure to take the proper survival tools with me whenever I venture into the backcountry, I've also learned to apply the lessons learned from this true story into my relationships, and more generally into how I navigate Life.
Dear reader, I wonder if you can relate to this scenario: You and someone else, or you by yourself, are going along peacefully when something is said or done that triggers you to the point where you completely lose your center. Perhaps you become reactive in a manner that gets you lost in the conflict. Perhaps you're the Victim, the Hero, or maybe even the Persecutor/Villain. Regardless of whichever role you assume, you are not in your center, you are not in your power. This can be terrifying, and from this place, we often say horrible things and make terrible decisions.
In subsequent posts, I'll explain the aforementioned roles of the Drama Triangle, the neuroscience behind why we react in these ways, and I'll go into further detail about the relational patterns themselves. In the meantime, reach out if you would like some therapeutic support in helping you to return to your center, and to thrive in your life.