My Brain Makes Me Nervous
Recent Columns
-
A Birthday Gift for Darwin
Feb 12 20099:00 am EDT -
Green Crude
Jan 07 20098:00 am EDT -
2009: The Year of Bespoke Medicine
Dec 31 200812:00 am EDT -
Discount DNA
Dec 17 200812:00 am EDT -
Finding Cancer in a Drop of Blood
Nov 26 200812:00 am EDT -
Mind Reader
Nov 19 200812:00 am EDT -
Statins, Heart Attack, and Genes
Nov 12 20089:30 am EDT -
Obama on Science
Nov 05 200812:00 am EDT -
The Idea-to-Drug Gap
Oct 22 200810:00 am EDT -
Investing In Our Future
Oct 08 200812:00 am EDT
We've all had moments when our hearts are pounding like a Jamaican barrel drum and our palms are clammy; when our nerves are fraying at moments when we need to be sharp and strategic to save ourselves.
Evolution, however, has given us an intricate brain designed to detect dangers that confronted our forebearers millennia ago: the snarl of a saber tooth tiger, say, or the crack of lightning on the veldt.
Our brains aren't made to deal with the equally vicious snap of a boss on a rampage, or the sudden realization that you've been called on to give an impromptu presentation to a zillion-dollar client in front of the executive board of the company.
Deep in the tunnel of a functional magnetic resonance imaging (f.M.R.I.) machine at Stanford University, my brain is being scanned as it relives one of the most anxious moments in my career. It happened years ago, when I was a junior correspondent for Life magazine discussing one of my first major stories, a possible cover, in a staff meeting.
As I was being scanned in the f.M.R.I., researchers flashed a series of short statements on a monitor that recounted my recollection of that event. I can read the snippets inside the machine.
In the staff meeting, colleagues had been saying I'd done a great job on the story, when the managing editor blurted out that another reporter would write it and get the credit.
The suddenness of this put-down felt like an ancient lightning bolt flashing close enough to singe me. I couldn't believe it. Life, like its sister magazine Time, used to routinely have one journalist report a story and another write it, but this had become rare.
As the meeting continued, I felt my heart racing and my gut contracting. I felt ashamed, and I'm sure my face was red.
I knew I should say something to this editor who did look remarkably like a saber tooth with glasses, though without the fangs. I needed to stick up for myself, but my most overriding desire was to flee.
Scientists have long been fascinated by this reaction to episodes of social stress, particularly for those with social phobias that have reactions so extreme they become debilitated.
Comments
If you are commenting using a Facebook account, your profile information may be displayed with your comment depending on your privacy settings. By leaving the 'Post to Facebook' box selected, your comment will be published to your Facebook profile in addition to the space below.




