Exhale on the Way Down

The Psychiatric Nurse Files

keywords: nervous system, amygdala, exhalation

Exhale on the Way Down; how to ride a roller coaster.

It is almost never recommended to use cliche in writing.  At the very least, it is strongly discouraged.  Further stated, NEVER title or open with one.

Therefore, I will ‘get to the point’ (cliché number one) with an observation.  ‘Life is like a roller coaster’ (cliché number two).      

Cliches can be successfully used for quick expression of an idea or to stir an emotional-physical response.  Imagine yourself at the highest peak of the Zambezi Zinger, knowing that you have zero control over the plunge looming before you.  Though Zambezi tops off with a mere 45 mph drop, coasters boasting 95 to 180 mph are not uncommon.  Fifty-one percent of adults find this proposition unappealing.  That seem understated.

Yet, if we metaphorically liken life to a roller coaster, with its unpredictability, intensity, and rapid shifts, then it is worth asking the question.  How does one successfully learn ride a roller coaster?

The answer, curiously a mystery to most, is to exhale on the way down.  How is this not intuitive?

Exhalation is so powerful that it can take our nervous system from a revved up fight-flight into a restorative rest-digest in, well, in just a breath. From amygdala-reptilian processing to cortex-healthy adult human processing.  Breathing, with special attention to the exhale, is foundational, as Genesis is to sacred scripture; the breath of God “hovering over the face of the waters”. (Genesis 1:2)

There is not a pharmaceutical, in the history of medicament, that provides the same restorative effect as can a breath.  Benzodiazepines can certainly put the amygdala to sleep, but on awakening the coaster dips will only intensify. More on this in a future discussion of Heart Rate Variability and ‘how to’ care for your amygdala.

How many times I agonized in that line at Worlds of Fun, leading to the Zambezi.  I did not want to lock myself into that seat of torture.  As a teenager, I also did not want to be the odd duck out.  My peers seemed to long for its vertical drops, with delightful screams of mock horror, exaggerating my own genuine horror.    

Since the days of youthful thrill rides at Kansas City’s Fairy Land Park, 1923 to 1977, I had a built in radar for the nearest trash can.  I bolted in its direction the moment seat-belts unlocked, where I relieved my stomach. Then, a sprint to the always curative, lemonade stand.  I was able to carry on.  To this day, lemonade soothes a flustered tummy.

I do not recall details of my own illumination.  That moment, just prior to one particular Zambezi plunge, in which I heard interiorly, “exhale on the way down”.  Now, I would say, this was clearly an angelic message.  Interiorly, I replied, “OK, it is so worth a try!”. 

What?  First drop. Nothing. Digestive system intact. Better try that again.  Second drop. Same thing.

Plunge after plunge, I exhaled.  The height and g-force did not change, but hope entered with a fresh option. “Exhale on the way down”. I joined my friends in their embellished cries of fake horror.

Soon, the thrill wore thin, for them. I followed the crowd from one stimulant to another, with a renewed sense of confidence and courage. Opting out would no longer be a social risk.

What did I discover that summer vacation of 1973?  “This is how you ride a roller coaster.” I was ‘one of them’.