Fight or flight
Human beings need a lot of things to feel alive.
Family
Love
Sex.
But we only need one thing
To actually be alive.
We need a beating heart.
When our heart is threatened
we respond in one of two ways.
We either run or
we attack.
There's a scientific term for this:
Fight
or flight.
It's instinct
We can't control it.
Or can we?
I first heard about the fight or flight nervous system response when I was in college classes. Tenth grade. I studied it extensively, wrote a paper on the phenomenon. I prided myself on the fact that I was a fighter, I stuck through the toughest of situations. When my mother was in Intensive Care, my senior year in high school, I was there. I was there until I had a seizure, I was there. I was there until I had a panic attack a few days after the seizure. I did everything I needed to do.
Everything I needed to do, only without my heart. I had a shell. I cried, but it was enough of a wall to keep me from breaking down. I don't cry, I don't have breakdowns. Tears slip through, I stay closed off. Otherwise, I'm not sure I'd stop. And I'm not saying that to be dramatic. I think most of my friends know I tend to downplay the worst in my life, and don't ask for help until I either have to, or it's too late and the damage is done, and it's time to repair things. I want to break down, sometimes. But I…can't.
I get pissed when I get hurt. I scream until I'm blue in the face. I use every bit of foul language I know and then invent some. Twice, I've had to be held back from absolutely beating the hell out of someone. Mostly, it's words. I don't back down from a fight. I fight for what I want. I think.
But I hold back, I shut off. At the same time.
Fight or flight. Which is it? Which is better? Which is worse? And what, exactly, is worth fighting for?
