Read Online Death Grip by Matt Samet - Free Book Online Page B

are called either excitatory (activating) or inhibitory (inhibiting) in their action, in that they either encourage the post-synaptic neuron to carry out a specific task or they prevent it from doing so. Excitatory neurotransmitters activate the brain by causing neurons to fire, releasing neurotransmitters that then carry the message to other neurons in a kind of domino effect, while the inhibitory ones call a “cease-fire” that stabilizes or calms the brain—though some neurotransmitters carry out both functions. (Neurotransmitters also regulate our bodily functions—they course throughout the immune and endocrine systems, guts, lungs, heart, and so on, and can communicate with cells and organs.) At essence, neurotransmitters serve as chemical mediators of our emotional reality: As Richard Restak, M.D., writes in his examination of anxiety, Poe’s Heart and the Mountain Climber , “ all [emphasis added] mental processes result from the release of neurotransmitters from billions of cells in the brain and the reception of these chemicals by billions of other cells.” 5 And, as Paul Foxman puts forth in Dancing with Fear, neurotransmitters translate our emotions, feelings, and every thought—even unconscious ones—into “physiological changes.” 6 Without neurotransmitters and receptors, we would just be switched-off computers.
    In a fight-or-flight situation, then, activating neurotransmitters such as epinephrine (adrenaline), norepinephrine, adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH), and serotonin flood the bloodstream. 7 More specifically, the adrenal glands release epinephrine as the sympathetic nervous system (SNS)—one branch of the body’s autonomic nervous system (ANS)—fires, the so-called “adrenaline rush” during which your muscles tense, sight and hearing sharpen, breathing and heart rate quicken to take in more oxygen, and your posture becomes defensive. It’s the process by which, as Foxman writes, “your body becomes charged and energized to protect itself” 8 —either through battling the threat or fleeing it. Only the triggering of the parasympathetic nervous system (PNS), the SNS’ counterpart, brings you back down. (The PNS controls salivation, lacrimation, urination, digestion, and defecation, 9 and is like the “brakes” to the SNS’ “accelerator.” Think about the last time you were confronted with some danger, and the almost holy calm that washed over after the danger had passed: That was the PNS bringing you back to baseline.) The two complementary systems have long helped man to survive—to recognize and then confront and/or evade imminent threats. I would later have a therapist frame fight-or-flight this way: When man was both predator and prey, roaming the steppes and hurling spears at antelope, we evolved the response as a safeguard against creatures like saber-toothed tigers. These days, however, because we have few natural enemies—other than each other—fight-or-flight is almost an anachronism.
    For the moment, however, the urge to flee our midnight attacker was perfectly understandable. This guy, after all, had a knife and seemed ready to use it. I’d never been in a proper fight (and still never have). My parents had always insisted that it was wrong to hit anyone, even in self-defense, so I’d learned to bail out even in situations I might have resolved with my fists. They’d told me this in second grade after I’d been cornered and stoned on the schoolyard by two reprobates I’d prevented, days earlier, from beating up a mentally challenged boy down the block.
    â€œWe’ll get off your turf, man,” I told our assailant lamely. I’d just watched the gang film Rumble Fish , so this seemed like a thing you might say. The wild man whirled from boy to boy, brandishing his weapons, his face a grim mask of homicidal rage. Clearly, this wasn’t about