This Time Don't Play Dead
Last night when I opened the backdoor to let the puppy out one last time before going to bed, something low to the ground just a few feet into the yard caught my eye when it moved.
Is it a really big mouse? A gopher?
When the motion sensor light clicked on I realized it was a baby opossum. Its body was no bigger than a small squirrel, but with its round eyes and hairless tale and big claws, it was undeniably an opossum.
As the dog and cat tumbled out the door between my feet I thought, “Oh, this isn’t going to end well for my little friend here.”
But the domestic four-legged’s had other agendas that they carried out, oblivious to the baby opossum’s presence.
Curious, I stepped closer.
He opened his mouth wide to show me his teeth and hissed. Then he calmly turned and slowly walked in the other direction.
Still curious, I followed him from a respectful distance.
He went about his way, but any time he felt it wasn’t a respectful distance he stopped, looked me in the eye, bared his teeth, raised his claws and in his tiny little stature made it clear that he meant business.
It wasn’t until I went back inside that I remembered that opossums are the ones who usually play dead when they feel threatened. They rely upon diversion. In a bind? Play dead until the would-be attacker loses interest, and then run for all your worth for safety. In this way, oppossums are master strategists and superb actors in their attempt to avoid confrontation.
We humans “play dead'“ in our own way—in the tense meeting we get really quiet and still and hope no one sees us or calls on us to speak. In the difficult situation that requires focus we space out and get foggy-brained. When we see something that doesn’t sit right with our values, we hold our tongue so as not to rock the boat.
And hey, there can definitely be wisdom in not getting sucked into the drama of an intense situation or in acting strategically to avoid getting hurt.
But there is also something to be said for facing difficult situations head-on and showing them what you got, no matter how small you feel.
When I got into bed last night I smiled to the dark room as I thought about my backyard encounter. His message to me: “This time, don’t play dead.”
Does a situation you’re in call for more teeth and less diversion?
Is your strategy serving you, or is it time to be direct?
Need some help saying what needs to be said?
If so, the next time you find yourself wanting to “play dead,” try working with your body to counteract that survival response.
One way you can do that is by practicing grounding yourself: feel your feet on the ground and look for the sensation of strength in your legs (you could engage the muscles in your legs to do this, or sense the strength of your bone structure). See if you can experience “this is true, this is also true.” As in, it’s true that I am scared to say this /I feel small/I’d rather curl up and hide, it’s also true that I am strong and stable and can do this.
Let your body help tell your brain this message by how you stand. Through your strong stance, your nervous system will get the message that, though there may be something that feels threatening, it does not require a survival response. You CAN do this.
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