I'm No Psychologist, but...

​​One of my favorite classes in college was probably the hardest one I ever took. Even through the struggle of maintaining my disappointing “C” average in the class, towards the end of my freshman year, there was a slight moment when I questioned dropping out of art school to pursue my 2nd choice on my childhood list of “‘realistic careers” as a psychoanalyst (inspired by many years of binge watching crime shows such as “Psych” and “Criminal Minds”).

When I examine my momentary lapse of confusion at a time when I was second guessing where I was and where I belong, I remember why psychology is such a fascinating subject in the first place. In my freshman psychology class I was forced to think about things that we, as human beings, don’t think about enough (or at all) on a daily basis. I was forced to look under the rug of my subconscious, dig deeper into my unconscious mind, and pull things out that have been hidden there for years. This class was the type of class that had you analyzing your entire existence.

I remember one day, while my professor was discussing Freud’s many diverse defense mechanisms, the description of regression itself, took me back. While she was still lecturing, I had a flashback to only a year or two prior to the current discussion. Around the last semester of my junior year and through my senior year of high school, I found myself at a place where I kept to myself a lot. I didn’t want to go out. The idea of seeing people or talking to them brought me more anxiety than joy. If I wasn’t asleep, the only other time I could find peace would be during my restarted habit of snacking on animal crackers while drinking a nice cold glass ( or gallon) of apple juice. As weird as it may sound, there was a comfort that came from eating my favorite childhood snack. Maybe it was the feeling of joyous memories or the connection to a time where I couldn’t remember having a single problem, but when my 16 to 18 year old body sat down to munch on some animal crackers and apple juice, I felt secure.

As my professor further explained defense mechanisms, I began to wonder how something that makes you feel so safe and brings no one any harm, could ever be considered a real issue to a person’s development.

When I finally found the courage to raise my hand and ask her to back pedal and explain why regression is considered a defense mechanism, she initially gave me this sly smirk that let me know she was very much aware of the fact that I missed everything she said after moving on from this term that so easily distracted me. After that silent exchange of information, she directed the answer to my question to the entire class. She reminded everyone that although there are harmful and harmless defense mechanisms, the reason for each of them is the same. Defense mechanisms are our mind and body’s responses to help us distort reality rather than face it.

Every time I chose to eat animal crackers and drink apple juice, it took me back to a place where I felt most safe but in doing that, it postponed my chances of dealing with the actual cause of my insecurities. The more I think about this, I begin to wonder about other times forms of regression may have shown up in my life and I have yet to recognize it. However, I can remember multiple times when I have been tempted to regress.

If regression is a defense mechanism that takes you back to child-like behavior but the word regression itself means to return to a former or less developed state, then can any type of regression be considered a defense mechanism? Can our constant desire to fall back into old habits that brought us comfort only years before be one? What if the stress of our current relationship or even singleness tempts us to re-explore a relationship from the past that we know we out grew? What if after a harsh divorce, a 30 year old man or woman (with the necessary means to live on their own) moves back in with their parents?

If regression is something that can physically take us back in time, then maybe it’s not as harmless as I originally believed after all. Any time we choose to distort reality rather than face it, we are in fact delaying our own development. We are stunting our growth and that itself is a harmful act. 

Just like towards the end of my freshman year in college, I’m at a place where I’m being forced to think. Not necessarily about a change in degree or career, but about a transformation in the way I live my life. Maybe the next time a stressful situation comes up, I won’t go running to Walmart for a bag of animal crackers and gallon of apple juice. Maybe instead of responding to a message from an ex-boyfriend or outgrown friend or even jumping into a similar relationship, I’ll use my time as a single person to make a list of all the qualities in people I will no longer allow to enter my life. Maybe instead of finding ways to distort my reality, I’ll discover ways to improve it. Regression may have a way of taking us back to a place when we felt safe or even at peace but who says progression doesn’t hold the same power?