Research on parentification - the process where children are forced into adult emotional roles - shows that many of the people we admire for their composure developed it as a survival mechanism. They weren't born calm. They were made calm, usually by environments where someone's emotional dysregulation demanded that a child become the steady one.
For American football fans, the Super Bowl is the crescendo of the sporting calendar. Even if your team doesn't make the big night, watching the game is undeniably exciting, eliciting a combination of yelling, cursing, crying, drinking, praying, cheering andfor some lucky fansjubilation. That emotional roller-coaster is part of the fun, right? Well, not to rain on anyone's parade, but the science suggests that big sports events like the Super Bowl could carry some hidden health risks.
"Hangry" has become such common vocabulary that most people know exactly what it means: that irritable, snappish state when you need food. Recently, people have suggested extending the pattern-"slangry" for sleepiness-related irritability, "shanger" for shame-triggered snappiness, "franger" for frustration-fueled reactivity. It's clever, and naming these states does help create awareness. But I think these neologisms accidentally reveal something more important: We've lost the ability to distinguish between our stress response and actual emotion.
Our brain interprets grief as stress. As a result, it activates our stress-response systems, especially the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis and the sympathetic nervous system. These systems release stress hormones such as cortisol and adrenaline, which are meant to protect the body in short-term crises. In acute grief, these responses are adaptive. They help us cope with shock and disruption. If unresolved, however, the same systems can become dysregulated.
Everybody knows this coworker-the one who spirals about cost-cutting layoffs when snacks vanish from the break room. The one who thinks they're getting fired because their boss hasn't been using emojis with them lately. The one who's the office Chicken Little: anxious, somewhat frantic, often misguided . . . and who can't stop talking to others about whatever it is they're anxious about.
Why pressure shuts desire down Sex research consistently shows that desire does not thrive under expectation. In fact, pressure activates the very system designed to suppress sexual response. The Dual Control Model of Sexual Response (Bancroft & Janssen, 2007) explains that our sexual experience is controlled by two competing systems: one that activates arousal, and one that inhibits it. Sex therapist and researcher Emily Nagoski describes these simply as our "accelerators" and our "brakes".
When things go wrong in our lives, we can experience stress, feeling a constant sense of threat that keeps us from solving our problems. In an emergency, this stress reaction can save our lives. The alarm center in our brains responds to a threat with the survival reaction of fight, flight, or freeze, causing us to take immediate action (LeDoux, 1996).
A few weeks ago, a viral tweet perfectly captured a phenomenon familiar to many of us. The post ― a response to someone's question "what's your biggest ick about yourself?" ― read simply: "i can be really mean when i'm overstimulated." Judging by the retweets, it seems 55,000 people could relate. If you've ever snapped at your partner after a bad day, or had an outburst during a frustrating call with a customer service agent, you may understand the meaning behind the tweet. We're not exactly at our best in moments like these, but they're part of the human response to being overstimulated.
"Survival mode" has become one of those wellness buzzwords-but most people using it have no idea what it really means. In my role as a trauma therapist, I've observed an increasing number of clients who come in believing they're in a state of survival. The source of their thinking? Not medical professionals, but AI chatbots, social media posts, and well-meaning influencers who misunderstand the term.
My best friend of nearly 50 years has been diagnosed with cancer, and the prognosis isn't good. Naturally, I want to support her, but she's making it very challenging. I just spoke with her on the phone to check in, and she got angry with me over something incredibly simple. I had asked about her pain level during her treatment that day and expressed how sorry I was that she had to endure such pain.
