Chapter 4

Anatomy of an Emotion

Seeking to understand your emotions—where they come from and why they are so powerful in certain situations—is to delve into the hardwiring of your human brain, rediscover forgotten and sometimes painful memories from your past, and unearth some deep-seated beliefs and ways of thinking that you may not have been consciously aware you were holding. In other words, it is to dig deeply into your self. Although such a journey is often not an easy one, it is an important one for each of us to take, one that carries us further down the path to emotional intelligence.

As we've done previously, let's begin this exploration with a visit to our EI classroom for a little storytelling about when our emotions have gotten in our way.

A Glimpse into the Classroom: Confronting Emotion

“In your group, share a story of a time when your emotions got the best of you, when you had an emotional response to a situation that led to behaviors that undermined your intended outcome for that situation.” This is one of those exercises some participants were afraid might come up in a course on EI—an activity in which they have to reveal themselves to the other participants, making themselves somewhat vulnerable by relating an embarrassing story. Around the room, people are looking at each other uneasily, unsure how to start, and then, just like in every other EI class we've ever facilitated, someone breaks the ice and starts telling his tale.

We include this exercise in our EI course not to embarrass people but rather to help them feel more comfortable. Hearing such stories from others helps us realize that though we may feel somewhat embarrassed by those times when our emotions got the best of us and we behaved in a way we wish we hadn't, everyone has had similar experiences. The storytelling normalizes the experience of an emotional override, those times when our emotional selves wrested control of our behaviors from our rational thinking selves. Potentially embarrassing? Sure. Perfectly human? Absolutely.

As the storytelling unfolds during the group work, we, as facilitators, wander around and eavesdrop just a bit. From one class to the next, the stories maintain certain parallels. There's the unintended-angry-outburst-at-a-spouse story. There's the tale of trepidation at being called in to see the boss. The road-rage saga almost always presents itself. The details of an escalating conflict with a colleague at a business-unit meeting usually are recounted. These parallels exist because these are our collective stories. They belong to all of us. They are part of our human experience, a manifestation of being emotional creatures. And now, with a richness of stories to base our exploration on, we can dig into how these emotional responses play out within us, and indeed, why we even have emotions at all.

WHY AM I SO EMOTIONAL?

It is often said that our emotions reside in our hearts. When we refer to how we feel about something, we often indicate that feeling as emanating from the chest. To fully understand our emotions, though, we need to first understand that emotion truly is all in our head.

Your emotions are initiated in your brain. Yes, your brain, the one that you often think about as being computer-like. What we sometimes describe as the rational, logical, problem-solving brain does exist, at least in part. And most of the time, you are operating within this rational, thinking part of your brain. You are aware of what's going on around you, you are choosing and directing your behaviors in a conscious and rational way, you are thinking through challenges and tapping into previous experience and wisdom to seek solutions to those challenges. This is the human brain with which you likely are most familiar. But there are other aspects of the brain too, more primitive than what was just described, and they hold great power, which is revealed when activated by certain situations.

To better understand these more primitive functional areas of the brain, let's take a journey back in time to visit our primitive ancestors. Imagine our prehistoric forebears living in the wilderness. It was a hard and hostile world, presenting true physical dangers on a nearly daily basis. Picture one of these early humans, a youngster perhaps, out on a hunt for some small game. Focused on stalking a hare, the young hunter doesn't yet notice that danger lurks near. A low growl comes in through the ear and is processed by the brain. With extraordinary speed and no real conscious thought, an alarmed response blasts through the hunter's body. Breathing becomes rapid and shallow, heart rate accelerates, adrenaline is released into the bloodstream, and muscles tighten, ready for action. This instinctive physiologic response, designed to support survival in the face of danger, is, of course, known as fight or flight.

Fight or flight is an emotional response triggered by your brain to move you toward taking action. That's essentially what all emotions are—signals to take action. Humans are hardwired with this sort of emotionally activated circuitry as a mechanism for supporting survival. Fight or flight as an emotional response in the face of a physical threat moves you toward protecting yourself from whatever that danger may be. These protective behaviors usually take the form of either preparing to do battle or preparing to move quickly out of harm's way. Emotions may also move you closer to some things that your brain interprets as supporting your survival—finding a mate, bonding with other humans in the community, taking part in activities that bring you joy. The behaviors you exhibit that support these activities are responses to emotional signals as well.

The fight-or-flight response, in the scenario just described, serves our young hunter well. The large cat, the source of the low growl initially heard, moved in for an assault. The first stone thrown by our hunter caught the cat on the side of the head and gave it pause. The second stone, landing squarely on the bridge of the cat's nose, sent it into retreat. The hunter backed away slowly, watchfully, before fully accelerating in the opposite direction.

WHEN THE SABER-TOOTHED TIGER IS REALLY A KITTY CAT

Fight or flight is a classic case study of how emotions influence behavior. Fear is one of the most primal and powerful of the emotions. When activated, the fear response drives you to action toward protecting yourself from danger, real or imagined. Consider that if the growl experienced by our young hunter had turned out not to be a large cat at all but instead a friend playing a prank, the initial emotional response, activated by the quick-acting emotional center of the brain, would have been the same. Only when the rational-thinking part of the hunter's brain had caught up with what the situation really was would the emotion have quieted.

For all of us, as humans living in our present-day world, this is an important point. We are still hardwired with the same emotional physiology that supported the survival of our primitive ancestors in their dangerous and hostile world. Granted, and sadly so, our modern world has its true dangers as well, and fight or flight still strives to support us when we encounter such dramatic and unfortunate circumstances. But fight or flight also threatens to undermine us when the danger we encounter is not actually one that is truly life or death but merely feels that way in the moment. After all, when was the last time you crossed paths with a large, hungry cat roaming the corridors of your offices? Many of the perceived dangers we experience today are just that, perceived. The degree of true danger is therefore open to interpretation.

EMOTIONAL OVERRIDE AND THE HUMAN BRAIN

To understand how human potential can be undermined by your emotional responses, you need to get to know your brain a little better. As previously suggested, you are probably already familiar with the rational-thinking part of the human brain. The neocortex, which consists of all the convoluted gray matter at the top of the brain, manages the higher brain functions of awareness, reasoning, voluntary movement and action, conscious thought, and language skills. Again, most people spend the majority of their time operating out of this part of the brain.

In the case of the young hunter being confronted by the threat of the fierce cat, we introduced a more primitive part of the brain, one that evolved long before the neocortex. All vertebrates have a mass of cells situated at the top of the spinal cord that comprise the brainstem. The cells of the brainstem coordinate most of our involuntary functions—the cardiopulmonary apparatus, for example—and govern our most animalistic instincts, including fight or flight. Sometimes referred to as the reptilian brain, this primitive brain has the power to override the rational-thinking functions of the neocortex and take control of our actions when it perceives a threat.

That covers the upper and lower parts of the brain. Now, let's explore the middle. Tucked beneath the neocortex and wrapping around the brainstem in something of a horseshoe configuration is a series of structures comprising the limbic area of the brain. It is from here that emotions originate. The limbic area, sometimes called the mammalian brain, stores emotionally linked memories. It is this area of the brain that triggers learned emotional responses to particular circumstances.

The reference to mammals with regard to this part of the brain has to do with the learning capacity of the limbic system. Take a dog, for example. Let's call him Rover. One day, Rover, just a pup for the purposes of our story, goes to the park with his human. Rover's human brings a ball along, intending to teach Rover how to fetch. At the park, Rover's human waves the ball around above Rover's head and then with a mighty toss throws the ball across the grass. Rover tears after the ball, skidding to a halt where the ball landed. Rover sniffs the ball a few times and then hearing his human call for him, comes racing back, leaving the ball where it lay. Not exactly what Rover's human was hoping for, but that's what learning is all about. After several more tries and several more walks to retrieve the ball, Rover finally catches on. The human throws the ball. Rover chases it down, scoops it up, and brings it back to the start. What does the human do now that Rover has successfully completed the trick? Of course! Rover gets treats, ear scratches, and “Good Boy!” acknowledgments all around.

Now, here is the important part—in this shining moment of triumph and reward, Rover's mammalian brain is making note of this experience. His brain is recording that the behavior he just exhibited, which we'll call fetch, is “Good for me!”—that is, good for him in that it bonds him to the human who looks after him, thus supporting his survival. This emotionally charged message is now stored in Rover's brain, and he will remember and act on it for the rest of his doggy life. This emotional-message-encoding mechanism also works the other way. If Rover were ever to do something that his human preferred he not do, say pee on a new pair of shoes, for example, a different message would be sent and learned—“Not good for me!” This message carries power too.

Just like Rover, we humans learn “Good for me!” and “Not good for me!” lessons throughout our lives. Being around people who care about us—“Good for me!” Getting called into Dad's study, the principal's office, or the shareholder's meeting to explain our actions—“Not good for me!”

Over the course of your life's experience, you have accumulated and stored literally thousands of emotional memories in your mammalian brain. These memories comprise the total of your life's emotional experiences and serve as activation points for emotional responses when you encounter current-day situations that are reminiscent of events from the past. New situations that link to “Good for me!” memories within the brain activate emotional responses and trigger behaviors that encourage us to fully engage. Events that link to “Not good for me!” memories activate emotional responses and trigger behaviors that seek to steer us away or protect us from such things.

Take public speaking, for example. If you are someone who received a standing ovation from your seventh-grade classmates at your first try as a speechmaker, you will log that experience in your emotional brain as being one that is good for you. It brought you joy, made you feel liked and respected by your peers, and acknowledged your effectiveness as a public speaker with important things to say. In the future, opportunities that come your way to present yourself and your thoughts in a public forum will be exciting for you. They'll be viewed as an opportunity to shine, to gain more respect and accolades. Your emotional brain will drive you to seek out and embrace situations that link back to the “Good for me!” message you retain concerning public speaking.

On the other hand, if you're like most of us, that first speech in the seventh grade didn't go so well. Feeling nauseated, shaking violently, and losing one of your notecards were bad enough, but the silence and dumbfounded looks that greeted you upon your conclusion are forever burned into your emotional memory. Based on this clearly “Not good for me!” experience, how do you think your emotional brain will react when you receive an assignment to address the assembly at the next division meeting? Don't worry though, it's not truly life and death, it just feels that way!

Just like Rover, you remember and act on these emotional lessons for the rest of your life.

THE EMOTIONAL GATEKEEPER

With the understanding of how emotional responses are learned and how these messages reside in our mammalian or limbic brain, we now can introduce what might be considered the gatekeeper of the system—the amygdala. The amygdala is an almond-shaped mass of cells situated at the base of the limbic horseshoe. As sensory stimuli from a person's surroundings enter the brain, the amygdala is monitoring them closely. At the first sign of a situation that links to a powerful emotional memory, the amygdala leaps to action, directing the person's behavior based on previously learned emotional responses: a fearful recoil, an angry outburst, a joyous whoop, or a round of bust-a-gut laughter.

Dr. Joseph LeDoux (1996), a neuroscientist at New York University, has studied the amygdala and its role in our emotional responses. He describes the amygdala as being quiet most of the time, but always alert for the need to sound the emotional alarm and trigger what is deemed to be appropriate action. Through his research, LeDoux discovered that an emotionally linked stimulus enters via the human senses and simultaneously travels two pathways in the brain, what he calls the high road and the low road. The high road leads up into the neocortex, where the stimulus and all of its data-rich associations can be analyzed in a rational and conscious way. At the same time, the same stimulus, in a more roughly defined, less data-rich stream, is transmitted via the low road to the amygdala, which, as is its nature, sounds the alarm. The key difference between the high and low roads is the time it takes a stimulus to travel them and activate a response. As you've likely guessed, the low road is the faster route. Whereas the amygdala leaps to action in a fraction of a second, the folks at 6 Seconds EI Network draw the name of their organization from the notion that the conscious thought process or high road takes a full six seconds to process what's going on. The speed at which information travels the low road is both a blessing and a curse. When a speeding car is bearing down on you, the amygdala's quick response system may save your life. When a colleague challenges you in a meeting, the same quick response, if not managed and filtered, may get you into trouble.

MY AMYGDALA MADE ME DO IT!

Although it's true that your emotional brain has the power to influence your behaviors long before your rational brain knows what's going on, this does not give you permission to play victim to your amygdala. When an emotional override results in an inappropriate outburst at a staff meeting, you do not get to say, “Wait a minute. I took a course on emotional intelligence and according to the instructor, my amygdala made me do it!” That, of course, is not what this journey into EI is all about. Emotional intelligence has to do with learning how to use all of this emotional energy intelligently. The importance of delving into the mechanism by which your brain activates emotional responses that guide your behaviors is rooted in the ability that understanding provides toward beginning to manage emotional responses with your rational-thinking brain.

Granted, there are times when the amygdala sounds the alarm launching you into action so passionately that you are almost powerless to choose a different course. But most of the time, life's events are not so dramatic. In these more common and nuanced cases, your emotions bubble up more slowly within you, not so much an alarm but more a flashing yellow light urging caution. It is in these times that your responses are guided by a combination of emotionally charged memory and rational thought, two behavioral guidance systems opposing one another in a tug of war for control of your actions. This is where emotions get really interesting.

THE EMOTIONAL TUG OF WAR

Imagine a staff meeting in which a team member interrupts you while you are sharing an idea you are passionate about. The team momentum suddenly shifts in the direction of the interruption, and soon the opportunity to present the idea is lost in the shuffle. You are, of course, feeling a variety of emotions about this, but the one that threatens to send you into an explosive reaction is anger. Your initial response to this situation is being directed by your amygdala. What you perceive to be a disrespectful interruption is one of those “Not good for me!” situations you learned about long ago, and now your amygdala is going to come to your rescue. Fulfilling its duties as gatekeeper of emotional response to situations you encounter, your amygdala will sound the alarm and begin the process of activating any number of reactive behaviors. You might fire off an angry tirade at your co-worker. You might embarrass yourself by ridiculing him or by sniping at him.

All of these reactive behaviors represent one side of the tug of war that is being waged between your emotionally charged brain and your rational brain. You might call this reactive side of the tug of war emotional un-intelligence, because you are allowing your emotional impulses to manage your behaviors instead of using your rational intelligence to manage both your emotions and your behaviors. Indeed, if you are able to delay your emotional reaction long enough to engage your rational brain, you will discover a new list of behavioral options that could lead you to handle the situation in a more intelligent and successful way. This proactive side of the tug of war represents emotional intelligence—the idea that all human beings are responsible for using rational-thought processes to both understand and manage emotional impulses.

DISRUPTIVE EMOTIONS AND REACTIVE BEHAVIOR

To be fair, not all emotionally reactive behaviors will create problems for you. For example, there is usually no need for concern about emotional override when your spontaneous behaviors are driven by emotions like love, happiness, enthusiasm, warmth, or kindness. When you feel compassion for a homeless person and spontaneously reach into your pocket and offer a charitable gift, you are not really committing an emotional foul. Indeed, if you think about the emotion of kindness too much, then you may end up in your own little mental struggle: “On the one hand, I could give him the money, but am I then enabling him to remain in a homeless pattern and not seek a better life? On the other hand, if I don't give him the money, then he may not be able to meet some of the basic needs required to even begin to get back on his feet.” In the end you will probably be okay no matter how you handle this interaction.

There are, of course, times when spontaneous enthusiasm can get you into trouble. Early in the 2004 presidential primaries, Democratic front-runner, Howard Dean, learned this lesson the hard way when his enthusiastic speech ending “Yeehah!” was parodied over and over again by the media.

These examples of reactive behavior should not concern you nearly as much as the examples of emotional override that may result from the intrusion of disruptive emotions:

   anger or defensiveness

   fear or anxiety

   guilt or shame

   feeling “down”

   insecurity

   embarrassment.

This is the lexicon of emotions that tend to get the best of you in certain situations. We call these emotions disruptive because they so often threaten to override rational thoughts and take disruptive control of behaviors. When you are aware of these emotions and take personal responsibility for managing them, you can maintain a sense of control, or perhaps a better way to say this is you can maintain a sense of composure. When you lack awareness and avoid personal responsibility, then you often lose composure and end up looking foolish. All of these disruptive emotions have the power to trigger the amygdala and produce a variety of reactive behaviors that are inappropriate in many human interactions. You lose your temper, you intimidate others, you surrender under pressure, you sulk and complain because you didn't get what you wanted, and so on. Such behaviors risk sabotaging personal and professional success. But this does not mean that these disruptive emotions are bad or even negative. When well managed, these emotions can provide you with tremendous amounts of information and energy to help you navigate through difficult situations and choose the right response proactively. Table 4-1 highlights the difference between managing and not managing our disruptive emotions.

Table 4-1. Proactive and Reactive Ways to Manage Unpleasant, Disruptive Emotions

EQuip Yourself with Emotional Understanding

This process of understanding and managing your emotions is not the same as denying or repressing them. Remember, your emotions are there for a reason. They indicate that something is either “Good for you” or “Not good for you.” And so to deny or repress your emotions when you are interrupted at a staff meeting, for example, is equivalent to denying that the interruption is linked to one of your “Not good for me!” memories. Denying the emotion is therefore a form of denying the logic that stands behind the emotion. The goal is not to deny the emotional signal but to be aware of it, to manage it, and then to choose your behavior proactively.

It is helpful to summarize this goal as a three-step process:

1.  Self-Awareness
Be aware of what you feel. Awareness includes accurately labeling your emotion as well as understanding why the emotion is there.

2.  Self-Management
Manage your emotions so your emotions do not manage you. There are a variety of techniques we will discuss in the next chapter to help us manage emotions.

3.  Use your understanding of emotions to choose an appropriate behavior.
Emotions are actually informative. Your emotions provide valuable information you can use to choose an appropriate behavior. Use your rational brain to listen to what your emotions are calling to your attention. For example:

   Anger is calling your attention to the idea that something is wrong, an injustice has occurred, or a conflict needs to be resolved.

   Anxiety is calling your attention to the idea that more caution and care are needed to manage the situation effectively.

   Feeling “down” is calling your attention to the idea that you need to make some kind of a change so you can manage your energy more effectively.

   Guilt is calling your attention to the idea that you need to apologize, make amends, or learn from a mistake.

   Insecurity is calling your attention to the idea that you need to develop a skill set, find out what makes your life significant, or connect with what you are passionate about.

   Embarrassment is calling your attention to the idea that you need to be more discreet, to learn how to laugh at yourself and accept yourself, or to be less of a perfectionist.

The point of this third step is to ask the behavioral question: If my amygdala is sounding the alarm about situations that are “Not good for me!” what appropriate behavior will I choose to right the injustice, to resolve the conflict, to handle the danger, to reenergize myself, to deal with wrong behaviors and mistakes, to build my self-esteem, to avoid embarrassment, and so on?

What is the emotional signal trying to teach me about what I should do?