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63 pages 2 hours read

Bruce D. Perry, Oprah Winfrey

What Happened To You?: Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2021

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Chapters 3-4Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 3 Summary and Analysis: “How We Were Loved”

This chapter focuses on the role that early experiences, particularly love and caregiving, play in the formation and development of the human brain, attitudes, behavior, and personality.

Winfrey describes how, over all the interviews she has done, she has found one thing to be common among all her guests: “All of us want to know that what we do, what we say, and who we are matters” (75). Every single person she has interviewed, from presidents to pop stars to former convicts, always asked how they did at the end of the interview, displaying their longing to be accepted and affirmed. Winfrey believes this desire to be common to all people, and it comes down to how one is loved.

In keeping with this, Perry talks about a specific quality of the human brain: neuroplasticity. It is the capacity of the human brain to change and adapt to one’s individual world and is reflected in actual physical changes that take place in neural networks when they are stimulated. The brain changes in a “use dependent” way, meaning that neural networks form and adapt based on which skills are used. This relates to a key principle of specificity, in that for a particular part of the brain to change, that specific area needs to be activated by introducing corresponding stimuli or input. “This principle of ‘specificity’ applies to all brain-mediated functions, including the capacity to love” (74). If an individual has not received or experienced love, then the corresponding neural networks in their brain will remain underdeveloped. However, neuroplasticity makes it possible for these capabilities to emerge through exposure, even later in life.

Perry concurs with Winfrey’s opinion that the need to be loved is common to all humans and asserts that belonging and being loved are core to the human experience. Humans are a social species and are meant to be in community; the acts of loving and caregiving form the foundations of our biological development. For an infant, receiving love and caregiving manifests as the caregiver responding to the infant’s cry and arriving to meet its needs: “To the newborn, love is action; it is the attentive, responsive, nurturing care that adults provide” (76). Here is where the stress activation and response described by Perry plays out: When an infant is dysregulated owing to hunger, cold, pain, or tiredness, it cries out; a caregiver arrives and soothes this stress by providing the infant what it needs and offering co-regulation. When this response is consistent and predictable, resilience builds; in the opposite scenario, the infant is left sensitized and vulnerable.

The response to stress can take multiple forms, with the “fight or flight” response being a commonly used term. Upon the introduction of a threat, the brain narrows focus onto it, tuning out all other input from the external world and from within the body. In preparation to fight or flee, several neurochemical changes take place within the body, including an increased heart rate, the release of adrenaline and cortisol (stress hormones) and glucose (for energy), and the diversion of blood toward the muscles. However, Perry details how one does not switch immediately from a state of calm; being social beings, our first response is to “flock,” i.e., to look to others around us for emotional cues that tell us how to interpret the situation. These cues are mostly gleaned from nonverbal behavior, such as body language or facial expression. In a situation where others are not present, however, one may have a “freeze” response instead: pausing to assess the situation, such as a sound in a dark parking lot. As the level of threat increases, one finally arrives at a fight-or-flight state. If there is opportunity to escape, one flees; however, when one is cornered with no way out, then the survival instinct kicks in, and one fights.

The sequence of these four responses—flock, freeze, flee, fight—also correspond with the different stages of arousal that are present in one’s waking state: calm, alert, alarm, fear, and terror. When one is calm and relaxed, one’s mind can wander; one also has the most access to the cortex, the smartest part of the brain, and reflection is the key function. In the next stage of alertness, one still remains well-regulated and can access the cortex even while remaining focused on some aspect of the external world, such as engaging in a conversation; a “flock” response is seen in this state. The introduction of a sudden challenge, surprise, or setback can move an individual from alertness to alarm, from which point the lower layers of the brain begin to dominate. Logic takes a backseat as emotions take over, and the “freeze” response sets in; thus, arguments devolve into illogical or personalized attacks at this stage. If the threat persists or intensifies, one moves into a stage of fear, and further lower layers of the brain dominate, with the instinct to “flee” arousing. Finally, at its highest stage of terror and when one finds oneself backed up against the wall, the survival instinct of “fight” kicks in.

Perry reiterates how just as the brain processes information sequentially and bottom up, it also develops in the same sequence. The lowest networks that make up the CRNs are the ones that develop first, beginning in the womb. Thus, a healthy newborn displays numerous automatic, regulatory brain functions, such as body temperature regulation and respiration; however, it will not be capable of abstract reasoning for many years. Most of the brain’s growth and development takes place in the first five years of life, though owing to neuroplasticity, it still holds the capacity for change beyond this time. However, the early experiences of an individual’s life undoubtedly have incomparable impact on how they develop, biologically, and therefore, psychologically. Being at the receiving end of consistent love, care, and responsiveness, will lead to an individual’s CRNs being normally organized and regulated; this individual will, in turn, experience a healthy development of the higher areas of their brain, such as their limbic systems and their cortex. Unpredictable and prolonged stress leads to the disruption of the CRNs. The individual is sensitized to stress, their threshold being far lower than the normal; mild or moderate stress, which would only cause some alarm in a neurotypical individual, would send this person into a state of abject terror. The constant neurochemical changes that accompany such a high reactivity to stress eventually adversely affect all the brain and body systems that are connected to the CRNs, causing emotional, behavioral, and physical health issues.

In this way, Perry demonstrates how childhood experiences can literally impact the biology of the brain. He uses the analogy of a house that is beautifully decorated, but carries a weak foundation, faulty wiring, and shoddy plumbing; even if the core defects of the house are not visible at first glance, they will invariably become evident over time. Similarly, the early years of a child’s life are foundational with respect to brain development; the kind of interactions experienced at this point in the child’s life influence every aspect of their functioning as they grow, whether the interactions be positive or traumatic. This is in keeping with the human brain’s capacity to make associations between patterns of sensory input that occur simultaneously to create implicit memories: certain sounds, smells, facial features, expressions, gestures, and so on, come to be associated with positive or negative emotions. These implicit memories automatically work to categorize and interpret new experiences: Where a well-cared-for infant may automatically smile at a woman who shares facial features with its mother, an infant that has been neglected or abused may shy away from the person, in such a situation.

With respect to trauma specifically, Perry explains that individuals display specific trauma-related responses to different stressors or triggers, and these responses are dependent on the stage or stress response that was dominant in the initial experience. As illustrated earlier, stress responses move through stages of flock to fight; furthermore, especially in early stages in life when a fight-or-flight response is not viable to survival, children can respond to stress with dissociation. Thus, while some trauma-related cues can trigger a flight response (as seen earlier with Mike and loud sounds) or a fight response (as seen with Sam and the smell of Old Spice), other trauma-related cues can also trigger an avoidant response, causing an individual to shut down. Furthermore, the same individual can display these differing responses to different trauma-related cues.

Perry presents an example to illustrate this: some years ago, he was called in to a hospital to see a 13-year-old boy named Jesse, who was in a coma owing to a head injury that he sustained from a fight with his foster father. Jesse had been born into a family with a multigenerational history of sexual abuse and exploitation; upon discovering that a five-year-old Jesse was being prostituted by his biological parents, he had been removed by the police and eventually placed with a foster family. Jesse endured further abuse at the hands of his foster family, from starvation and forced exercise to physical abuse. Jesse sustained his head injury during one such incident, where he either fell or was thrown down the stairs after having refused to run up and down them any further.

As part of Perry’s assessment of Jesse, he was able to obtain unwashed clothing from Jesse’s biological and foster fathers, to which he was then exposed. Despite being unconscious, the smell from each of these articles of clothing triggered physiological responses in Jesse: in response to his foster father’s clothing, Jesse would thrash and moan, his heart rate rising from 90 to 120 beats per minute (bpm). However, in response to his biological father’s clothing, Jesse displayed a different response, with much less movement and an eventual decline of his heart rate to below 60 bpm.

These responses indicate two things. Firstly, there are powerful memories stored in the lower systems of the brain. Even when Jesse was unconscious, and his cortex was “offline” and unavailable, he still displayed physiological responses to evocative cues, owing to the presence of these implicit memories. Secondly, it demonstrates how Jesse had two, distinct sets of trauma memories. The abuse that he faced at the hands of his biological father was when he was very young, at a stage where a fight-or-flight response would not have been adaptive; thus, he would dissociate. The physiology of dislocation works differently than that of fight or flight—in the former, the objective is to help the body rest, replenish, survive injury, and tolerate pain. This is seen in his corresponding dissociative response of stillness and a reduced heart rate in response to the scent of his biological father. However, Jesse displayed a fight-or-flight response to the scent of his foster father—agitated movements and an increased heart rate. This is consistent with the kind of stress response he exhibited when he experienced abuse at his foster father’s hands—eventually, his response was to fight back.

In disseminating this aspect of the brain’s development and how the early years of love and caregiving, or the lack of it, can deeply impact human attitudes, behavior, and personality, Winfrey and Perry conclusively reiterate the need for trauma-informed systems in education, mental health, and juvenile justice institutions. They assert there is a need to “move away from ‘What is wrong with you?’ to ‘What happened to you?’” (91-94).

Chapter 4 Summary and Analysis: “The Spectrum of Trauma”

This chapter focuses on the experience of trauma and its lasting effects. It is intended to help the reader recognize whether they have experienced trauma and identify related moments and experiences that have shaped them as they are in the present.

Perry notes that “trauma” has been a difficult term to define in academia owing to its subjectivity. Trauma is commonly understood as the aftermath of a bad event which is difficult to forget and has a lasting negative impact; however, the same “bad event” can be experienced differently by different people, leading to different kinds of impacts, and leaving it difficult to singularly categorize the event as traumatic. Perry provides the example of a fire at a school: for a first-grader watching his classroom burn down, it can be a traumatic event; for a fifth-grader at the other side of the school building, it can be a somewhat stressful, maybe even exciting event, that eventually becomes just an anecdote; for a firefighter, the event is a routine part of their job, and successfully overcoming it may in fact contribute to building resilience.

In keeping with this subjectivity surrounding trauma, the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) has come up with a way to define trauma with the combined help of academics and clinicians. This approach looks at the “three Es” of trauma: the event, the experience, and the effects. All three are to be examined in conjunction with each other and in the context of the individual’s experience, asking: What was the nature of the event? What was their specific experience and stress response, while it was ongoing? What lasting effects, if any, has the event had on the individual? Furthermore, while major events have been recognized as being traumatic, such as the death of a parent or active abuse at the hands of caregivers, Perry also suggests that trauma may “arise from quieter, less obvious experiences” (103), including humiliation, shaming, or other such emotional abuse, and even the experience of marginalization within a majority community. With respect to the latter, growing up with a consistent and persistent “out-group” experience is something that can sensitize the stress-response systems. Ultimately, the experience of trauma can directly affect mental and physical health; in fact, childhood adversity has been found to play a role in “45 percent of all childhood mental health disorders and 30 percent of mental health disorders among adults” (104).

Winfrey and Perry discuss a study by the National Survey of Children’s Health, whose results indicate that almost half of all children in the United States have had at least one significant traumatic experience (100). They also reference a 2019 study by the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), which found that 60% of all American adults have had at least one adverse childhood experience (ACE), and almost a quarter have had three or more ACEs. The original ACE study was published in 1998 and consisted of a 10-item questionnaire of “adversities” that may have taken place in the first 18 years of the respondents’ lives. The “adversities” included witnessing or receiving verbal, physical, sexual, and domestic abuse; neglect; poverty; parental separation; and witnessing substance abuse, mental illness, or incarceration on the part of the caregivers. The survey was filled out by 17,000 adults, who each received a score between zero and 10. Results of the study indicated a correlation between the ACE score and the nine major causes of death in adult life (104); thus, increased childhood adversity seems to be linked to a greater risk for health problems.

However, the ACE study was also criticized for several reasons. For one, the respondents were predominantly white, middle-class people, which brings into question the applicability of the results to other cultural and socioeconomic groups. Secondly, it only looked at 10 adversities, leaving out a host of other potential adverse experiences that individuals may have experienced in childhood. Finally, people often confused correlation with causation. Perry clarifies that a high ACE score does not ensure that one will have health problems later, it only increases the likeliness of this outcome. In fact, one of the major findings from Perry’s work following the ACE study is that one’s history of relational health—the “connectedness to family, community, and culture” (106)—is a far greater predictor of mental health than one’s past adversity. This keeps with Perry’s earlier assertion that relationship and connectedness are the single greatest regulators in an individual’s life, and one of the most significant factors that can assure balance.

A second major finding from his work, which challenges the ACE study conclusions, considers the timing of adversity. The ACE study only looks at whether an ACE has taken place in the first 18 years of one’s life; it does not look at what age the event transpired. Perry’s work, however, has yielded the discovery that the effects of a traumatic event at age two are usually vastly different than the effects of that same event occurring at age 17; the former will have a larger impact on one’s health than the latter. The experiences of the first two months of an individual’s life have been found to have a disproportionate impact on their long-term health and development, owing to the rapid growth of the brain at this early stage in life and the concurrent development of the CRNs. A child who has had largely negative experiences in the first two months of their life and is then moved to a healthier environment for the next 12 years still does worse than the reverse, i.e., a child who has had a healthy, supportive environment for the first two months, but has experienced adversity for the next 12 years. This indicates the importance of timing when it comes to childhood experiences, particularly the sensitivity of the early months of a child’s life. It also supports Perry’s earlier assertion that inconsistent and unpredictable caregiving in the early months can lead to sensitized stress response systems in the child.

In the context of the effects of trauma, Winfrey and Perry also discuss the condition of PTSD, which is a specific syndrome that occurs in the wake of a traumatic event(s) and is listed in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), which is used by clinical to classify mental illness. PTSD presents in four symptom clusters: “intrusive” symptoms; “avoidant” symptoms; changes in mood and thinking; and alterations in arousal and reactivity. “Intrusive” symptoms include “flashbacks,” or recurring and unwanted images, thoughts, dreams, and/or nightmares about the traumatic event. They represent the brain’s way of trying to make sense of the world as it constantly revisits the incident that shattered a preexisting worldview, in an attempt to build a new one. “Avoidant” symptoms can manifest as distress, avoidance, or phobias of triggers and reminders of the original event; these symptoms are dissociative in nature, signaling an individual’s desire to escape from the memory of the event and everything related to it. Changes in mood and thinking can include depression, anhedonia (loss of pleasure in anything), guilt, and deeply pessimistic cognitive frameworks. Alterations in arousal and reactivity are symptoms related to sensitized stress response systems, in which one may see anxiety, hypervigilance, and sleep conditions. Despite the specific and vivid way in which PTSD represents the aftermath of a traumatic event, Perry stresses that it is not the only way in which trauma can affect one’s mental and physical health. In fact, most long-term effects of trauma do not present as PTSD.

Winfrey and Perry discuss the possibility of healing from trauma. Perry asserts that “The neural networks involved in relational connection and regulation are very responsive to moments” (112), and that “tolerable” doses of therapeutic interaction following intense trauma are usually only seconds long. Often, following a traumatic incident, an individual may experience weekly, 45-minute sessions of therapy with a professional. However, Perry suggests that equally, or perhaps more meaningful, are more frequent “doses” of shorter, seconds-long therapeutic interactions or “moments” that are naturally provided by a web of loving, sensitive people in one’s life. Once again, this aligns with his assertion that connectedness and relationships rebalance and heal trauma. He provides the example of a three-year-old boy who had witnessed his mother’s murder during a home invasion, whom Perry had begun working with right after this incident. A few weeks in, the boy had mentioned to a grocery store cashier that his mother was dead, eliciting a sympathetic response from her. The boy’s father overheard this interaction and, believing the boy needed to talk some more about his mother, attempted to draw him into further conversation by bringing up memories. However, the boy found this too painful to deal with, and began to run around the parking lot frantically to “flee” the painful memories of his mother’s death, which further conversation had evoked.

Perry suggests that the father’s well-intentioned actions had, in fact, been an “overdose” of sorts; the right dose of therapeutic interaction had been just the simple exchange between the boy and the cashier, where the boy offered the information about his dead mother and received sympathetic reinforcement and validation of his feelings in return. This was an amount of therapeutic revisiting that the boy had initiated and been in control of, and thus was the right “dose” for him in the moment. The anecdote also leads Winfrey to conclude that, following traumatic experiences, one tends to look for validation of one’s reactions and feelings about the incident, which can lead to healing.

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