Why Your Body Doesn’t Understand Logic

Your nervous system learns more slowly than your mind

My husband has a theory about driving. Good driving, he says, is about not confusing other people. You want to do the most obvious thing, so the driver across the intersection never has to wonder whether you’re going to go or wait. He developed this theory after years in my passenger seat, watching me hover between the gas and the brake at four-way stops, going and then not going and then going again while the other driver tries to figure out what I’m doing.

I drive like this because I’ve been in several car accidents, most of them during the years I was drinking. The accidents are well behind me now, but my nervous system hasn’t caught up. I can sit at an intersection and know, logically, that I’m safe. My foot doesn’t believe me.

The distance between what you know and what your body does can be enormous. This is something I find catches people off guard. We expect that once we read enough self-help books, go to therapy, and do “the work,” we will be cured. But just because you can name and trace where the pattern started doesn’t mean your body caught up.

A client of mine left a controlling relationship two years ago. She can explain the whole dynamic to me: how he’d go quiet for days before it got bad, and why none of it was her fault. She’s moved on, and her partner now is nothing like him. And still, when her new partner calls from the kitchen to ask what time she’ll be home, her stomach drops and her heart thumps. She feels herself coming up with a defensive answer, when he only wanted to know when to start dinner.

In her previous relationship, a simple question often became a physical fight, so her body learned to brace for it, even if her mind knew differently. I do the same thing at four-way intersections. This is because your brain doesn’t just react to what’s happening to you. It predicts what will happen based on your past experiences and current state.

Most of the time this is a gift you never notice. You brake before you’ve consciously seen the kid step off the curb. You catch the glass before it’s finished falling. Your body is always a step ahead of your thoughts, running on what it expects to happen next.

The problem comes when something traumatic or eventful happens. Your body weighs those experiences much more heavily than average ones. So it braces for a danger that’s already over, in any situation that looks anything like that prior event, even when you logically know that you are safe.

What makes a difference, then? How can you bridge the gap between your brain and your body? The answer is smaller than I wanted it to be. You have to practice coming back to the present moment, where your body exists right now. Notice your feet on the floor, the texture of your fingerprints as you rub them together, how your chest rises and falls with a deep breath. Anything you do to tap into your body or sensations in the current moment works.

I know this isn’t a fun, life-transforming tip. It takes longer than you want, and the reaction still shows up. But over time you start to meet what’s in front of you instead of what already happened. And that truly makes a difference.