Unbecoming Ourselves: Chapter 2

The Function of Labels

Photo by Bankim Desai on Unsplash

”Kindness and curiosity, aspiration and acceptance- these are the keys to belonging,”

Sebene Selassie

“Freedom over fear” read many signs with the stay-at-home order enforced by our governor, claiming it is an infringement on their constitutional rights. 

You’re worried about your rights, but I’m worried my husband won’t be returning home to his family.

Alex has been gone for three weeks now. His interaction with us is limited to Facetime calls and the occasional overlapping of our shifts when he is coming on shift and my shift ends in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, where COVID hasn’t made an appearance yet. During these rare and brief occasions, we greet each other with fear, longing, and six feet of space between us.

He’s heard about the protests, and he’s angry; rightfully so. Here we are, suffering as our family is divided, all for the protection of other people. It’s hard not to take other people’s choices personally. Every person who refuses to wear a mask, claims that COVID isn’t real, or attends one of these protests, seems like they are giving a metaphorical middle finger up to me and my family. Yet Alex keeps showing up in these hospital rooms, donning his used, one-time use mask to hopefully save one more person infected with COVID. We can’t help but gripe over how many of these protestors will end up as one of his patients, now that they’ve been in a crowded setting.

Many of the protestors wore the now iconic red “Make America Great Again” hat, showing their support of President Donald Trump. This worldwide pandemic has turned into a political issue. Divided instead of united we have found ourselves, some concerned about our freedom and the economy, and the rest more concerned with safety.

Trumpers are going to destroy us. They are willing hosts to the virus and their careless behavior is going to kill us all. They lack empathy for others and reason, even in the face of scientific evidence. That’s not me; not my family. I believe in science. I am liberal, and I care about the welfare of others. 

Things at home are getting harder. My mental health has hit an all time low, as the waves of depression and panic are coming more frequently and with more intensity. Three weeks of going back and forth between work and home, hoping the deadly virus hasn’t hitched a ride on the bottom of my shoes to come home and attack my children and mother-in-law; three weeks of maniacally sanitizing our groceries and everything else that comes inside our home; three weeks of independently managing toddler meltdowns and middle of the night breastfeeding sessions; three weeks of trying to control what I can to stabilize myself in this groundlessness; three weeks of telling myself I’m a bad mother; three weeks of the greatest fear I have ever experienced in my life, without my partner by my side.

I learn that my fear of uncertainty is the problem, not uncertainty itself, during our walk this morning. We stop by the neighborhood pool while the Secular Buddhism podcast plays on my iPhone, and Jack clambers up the picnic table to retrieve a book from the free little library just outside the pool entrance. He makes his selection, then happily climbs back into the stroller with his prize. Noah’s voice accompanies the three of us as we stroll around the neighborhood, suggesting that we strengthen our ability to adapt to changes in our lives. Fear of the unknown does nothing to prevent unexpected things from happening to us, so we should focus our energy on learning to accept change, and accept that a lot of things are out of our control. 

A little gray lump lies in the middle of the sidewalk just ahead of us. As we approach, the mysterious mass reveals its identity. It rests belly up, a tiny black beak amid a display of black and gray plumage, its talons uncurled, no longer grasping the safety of a tree branch. Its corpse is somehow ironically both simultaneously grotesque and beautiful. I pause for a moment in its presence, then maneuver the stroller off the sidewalk and around the creature, continuing our walk back home. 

The fear of uncertainty is the theme of my life right now. I am in constant fear of me or my family contracting COVID and dying. I am in constant fear that I am failing as a parent, that I am not good enough for my children, that I am a bad mom. I’d give anything for someone to tell me for certain what will happen to us, and if I’m a good mother to my children.

Once we’re home, I look down at our newly curated daily agenda, and announce to the children that it’s time for arts and crafts. Jack and I have been crafting letter shaped animals, each day a new letter and a new animal. We research interesting facts about the animal, then tape the animal shape to the wall. Today is N: Narwhal. Narwhals’ tusks are actually a large tooth. We both find this fact amusing. Letters A through N hang in a row on my living room wall, mocking me with a reminder of how many days have passed since our lives were flipped upside down. 

Everly is on the floor next to us playing pot surprise, where she discovers random household items that I have put inside a cooking pot, a game which I have facetiously named after cannabis. Alex and his colleagues call the drug screens they run on their patients the “Colorado positive” since a large percentage of the population here uses it now. Her bright eyes light up as she discovers the cake decorating tool she likes to use for teething.

As long as it’s not my nipple.

I am exhausted. My eyes are still puffy from crying to Alex on the phone last night. Our physical separation in the midst of this chaos is taking its toll on me. I am broken, and I don’t have the right tools to put myself back together. I’ve grown resentful of him for being gone, for continuing to care for COVID patients if it means he can’t be with us. I feel like he is choosing his job over me and the children.

I am not worthy of love. I am not wanted.

The stress is showing in my care of the kids. My patience is gone, and I find myself yelling at them frequently. This is not what I want for my family. My children deserve a kind, patient, compassionate mother.

I am a bad mother. Good moms never yell at their kids. My kids deserve better than me. 

I begged and pleaded for Alex to give me a definite timeline of his return to us. Based on what he’s seeing in the ICU and what we’re reading in the news, this pandemic could continue much longer. After a lot of deliberation, we decided he is going to come home in two more days. Two more days will be long enough between his most recent shift and for symptoms to show if he is infected with the virus. I’m done waiting and want him to come home now. He tells me it’s only two more days, but to me that feels like an eternity.

The clock on the oven reads 12:10; I’m ten minutes late for lunch on our schedule. I clean up our craft scraps and make sandwiches. I invite my mother in law, who is currently on lunch break, to join us for a picnic in the backyard. 

The sun kisses our skin, the temperature outside a bit chilly but comfortable-with-a-light sweater. For just a moment, everything seems like it just might be okay, as I watch Jack eat around the crust on his sandwich, Everly watch a bird fly in the sky, and Francie and I talk about Alex’s homecoming. 

I can do this for two more days. I can be a good mother.

Our backyard picnic has concluded and Everly is down for a nap; so for either twenty minutes or two hours, I am a mother to only one child. I constantly find myself in disbelief at how much energy this child has. I don’t know how older or single parents do this. We’re back inside, playing with his favorite toy cars and trucks. Jack has such a fondness for construction vehicles, that I have learned more about trucks in the past year than I have in my entire life. 

I love being a mom, but sometimes I worry that I’m not cut out for this responsibility. I constantly worry that I am going to damage them, to give them a reason to feel hurt by me. The uncertainty of parenting destroys me inside. 

I don’t even realize I’ve checked out until I hear my son shout, “Mom, wake up!” At his command, I return to the present moment and drop to the floor, Hot Wheels car in hand, ready for a race with my son. 

Mommy’s trying to wake up, darling; Mommy’s trying. 

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Historically, labels served to protect us from potential predators. When our early human ancestors were hunting and foraging for food, it was imperative that they recognized which animals were a threat to their safety and knew how to protect themselves. Early forms of language enabled them to communicate to their group existing threats and how to avoid them. Their primordial instincts and use of language to educate the group were necessary for the continuation of the species. During these times, the use of words and labels were very skillful for survival purposes.

In modern times, we still face dangers and potential threats to our safety, but not to the same extent that our early ancestors did. Generally speaking, our lives are no longer in constant, immediate danger. Many of the same biological processes, however, still exist in our brains today that prime us to be on alert for potential threats in our surroundings. This creates a world in which we label others as “like me” or “not like me,” however this distinction no longer necessarily serves us in a way to protect us from danger.  We identify with labels such as our political affiliation, race and sexual orientation, and describe others who use those same labels as “like me.” People who identify with different labels we characterize as “not like me.” This distinction creates the concept of an ingroup and an outgroup in society, or us versus them.  Many of us gravitate toward people who we consider our ingroup based on their labels, and avoid people who we consider to be the outgroup.

Discovering the exact location in the brain and origin of the sense of self is a topic that has long been studied by scientists. In a meta-analysis in 2006 by Northoff, et al, using PET and fMRI imaging between 2000-2004, it was suggested that the sense of our core self is mediated by the cortical midline structures (CMS). These structures are also responsible for our ability to regulate our mood and express emotions, recognize facial expressions in others, recall past experiences, make decisions, plan for the future, and other executive functions. Other areas of the brain such as the amygdala, interact with the CMS and can change the way we perceive ourselves and others. The amygdala has been considered the fear center of our brain as its primary function is to detect and alert us of potential threats in our surroundings. A study conducted by Kim, et al, demonstrated that learned fear is maintained by the amygdala, even after the conditioned stimulus is removed (2013). Once our cortical neurons have developed a learned fear pathway, the fear inducing stimulus no longer needs to be present for us to have a conditioned fear. Another study using fMRIs to examine the effect of psychosocial stress on the human brain, it was discovered that there was increased amygdala functional connectivity to the CMS during the stressful event and an hour later (Veer 2011). These findings suggest that fear can play a role in our brain’s development of our sense of self. 

Fear was the driving force behind my own misconception of Trump supporters, and categorizing a diverse group of individuals as “not like me.” By separating them into an outgroup, I inadvertently made erroneous assumptions about everyone in that group. I made the assumption that every Trump supporter disregarded science and lacked compassion for others. These beliefs I held were the breeding ground for deep-seated anger, which only made my own individual suffering worse. At the time, it felt important to me that I create a self that was completely separate from “them,” but now I recognize one key element that connected us all: fear. Many people who were protesting the lockdowns were also driven by fear, the same emotion I was experiencing. We can’t stop fear from arising, as it is a biological survival mechanism we’ve evolved with. What we can do, however, is recognize when fear is present in our bodies. We can learn to recognize it in others, then have more beneficial communication instead of alienation.

The ability to communicate potential dangers to others in our species was essential to our survival in early human history. Homo sapiens have an incredible ability to perceive and convey complex messages to other humans. Two major centers in the human brain responsible for language comprehension and language production are Broca’s area and Wernicke's area. Crucial to speech production, Broca’s area contains mirror neurons, which are widely understood to fire both when an action is executed and when it is only observed. Mirror neurons have also recently been discovered to play a role in voluntary vocalizations. Primate brains contain a Broca’s area as well, and since they still exhibit involuntary vocalizations once the Broca’s area is severed, it has been presumed that Broca’s area is responsible for intentional vocalizations. The size and structure of Broca’s area is different in humans, however, and the differences are believed to lead to higher levels of integration of information. Wernicke’s area, while also present in apes, is also larger in structure in humans and is believed to assist in processing word meaning (Rilling 2014). These advanced characteristics allow us to use spoken language to convey important messages to each other, such as who or what can potentially cause us harm. 

There are several ways in which scientists have attempted to explain what makes human brains unique, such as using the encephalization quotient (EQ).  The EQ is calculated by comparing brain and body weight to expected brain weight. An EQ of 1 represents a mammal with an expected brain size for body weight relative to their species, whereas an EQ of less than or more than 1 represents an animal with a smaller or larger brain than expected for body weight in their species.  Australopithecus afarensis, widely believed to be the earliest known predecessor to the human species, had an EQ between 2.5-7.5.  Modern humans have the highest EQ of their ancestors of 7.4 to 7.8, and in some respect, EQ seems to be a reliable indicator of intelligence.  There are, however, multiple examples of outliers that this theory does not support, such as why dogs and squirrels have similar EQ’s, even though dogs display higher levels of intelligence (DeFelipe 1-2). What is evident, however, is that human brains have evolved and grown rapidly over a relatively short time period. It’s important to evaluate and consider the possible implications of this relatively rapid growth to gain insight into the root causes of human suffering.

Advanced cognition and language processing has been essential to homo sapiens’ survival as a species.  By generating labels, or words, for dangers they witnessed, early homo sapiens were able to avoid extinction and continue to evolve. In modern times, most of us live relatively safe lives.  We live in homes with walls, ceilings, doors and locks that protect us from inclement weather and from other people and animals that might harm us or take things we own. We have electricity and can see our surroundings clearly even when the sun has fallen and the sky is dark. We have a government and laws in place that protect our rights to our property and to our physical safety. We are undoubtedly in a much different situation than our early ancestors were. We still have mental processing, however, that while once crucial to our survival, now serves to give us a false sense of security in situations that may not even be an actual threat to us. 

The dangers of using labels this way can clearly be seen throughout history, and also in modern times. In times of slavery, white people utilized the fabricated label of race to justify the control and exploitation of black people. This label became so widely adopted into people’s identities that although slavery was abolished in 1865, racism is still alive today. In the political landscape, it is also very apparent how labels can cause polarization between groups and lead to degradation of interpersonal relationships. Donald Trump’s term in office cultivated animosity between supporters and non-supporters, and many people struggled to maintain healthy relationships with other individuals who were on the opposing side. When we adopt labels and integrate them into our core sense of self, we struggle to see beyond the labels of others and mistake people’s labels as a direct reflection of who they truly are.

What becomes clear when we dive into the history of labels we assign, they isolate us from who we truly are, and cause us to isolate ourselves from others. For community building and peace, it has become critical to our wellbeing as a species to cultivate a culture of inclusion and oneness with all living beings. 

Acknowledging the problem with labels is important for positive change to happen, but recognition is not enough to eradicate the issue. Since we are biologically programmed to form a sense of self and are constantly exposed to environmental triggers that induce fear which generates changes in our sense of self and others, extinguishing this problem will take potentially a lifetime's work of intentional work.

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Exercises:

1. Mindfulness Exercises:

   1. Develop or strengthen your daily mindful meditation practice. Choose from either the 10 or 20 minute guided meditation below. Begin by finding a quiet space where you will be undisturbed, then establish a comfortable, seated position. Aim to meditate daily, as the benefits of mindfulness come from consistent practice. However, if you miss a day or even a few, be compassionate and kind to yourself, then begin your practice again. 

      1. Core Mindfulness Meditation 10 min

      2. Core Mindfulness Meditation 20 min

   2. Choose one or two daily activities (such as washing dishes, walking to the mailbox, brushing your teeth, folding the laundry) to bring your mindful awareness to. Bring your attention back to the body during these moments, and observe any physical and mental sensations that arise.

2. Journal Exercises:

   1. How do you feel about uncertainty?

   2. How do worry and fear play a role in your life?

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Podcast referred to in this chapter: Secular Buddhism: The Fear of Uncertainty

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References:

DeFelipe, Javier. “The Evolution of the Brain, the Human Nature of Cortical Circuits, and Intellectual Creativity.” Frontiers in Neuroanatomy, vol. 5, 16 May 2011, pp. 1-2 https://doi.org/10.3389/fnana.2011.00029.

Kim, Dongbeom, et al. “Mechanisms Contributing to the Induction and Storage of Pavlovian Fear Memories in the Lateral Amygdala.” Learning & Memory, vol. 20, no. 8, July 2013, pp. 421–430., https://doi.org/10.1101/lm.030262.113.

Northoff, Georg, et al. “Self-Referential Processing in Our Brain—A Meta-Analysis of Imaging Studies on the Self.” NeuroImage, vol. 31, no. 1, 2006, pp. 440–57. Crossref, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuroimage.2005.12.002.

Rilling, J., 2014. Comparative primate neurobiology and the evolution of brain language systems. Current Opinion in Neurobiology, 28, pp.1-3.

Veer, Ilya M., et al. “Beyond Acute Social Stress: Increased Functional Connectivity between Amygdala and Cortical Midline Structures.” NeuroImage, vol. 57, no. 4, 15 Aug. 2011, pp. 1534–1541., https://doi.org/10.1016/j.neuroimage.2011.05.074.