Hyperarousal. Never heard of it? Me neither. But hyperarousal is a helpful concept to understand if you struggle with being easily excitable or have frequent feelings of restlessness, anxiety, overwhelm, and an inability to focus.
Although hyperarousal manifests differently for everyone affected, the hallmarks of this state include physical tension, inability to relax, continual brain chatter, anxiety, agitation, startling easily, difficulty concentrating, trouble sleeping, GI disturbances (IBS, constipation, or diarrhea), and feeling like you’re idling high. While hyperarousal is often clinically associated with PTSD, you don’t have to have PTSD to experience it.
During a normal acute stress response our sympathetic nervous system is activated, flight-fight-or freeze response takes over, and we temporarily feel hyperaroused. When the stress passes we calm down with assistance from our parasympathetic nervous system. But sometimes when we experience extended intense stress or trauma, our nervous system gets stuck in sympathetic overdrive and our brains begin to default to the acute stress response during everyday activities.
People who struggle with hyperarousal are more likely to develop dependencies on certain behaviors that help soothe or numb-out their hot-wired nervous systems. Some gravitate towards chocolate or carbs, others reach for alcohol or marijuana, some scroll social media or binge TV. Shopping, over-working, and perfectionism can also fill the intense need for tranquility — but none of them work long-term.
After considerable self-reflection and reading, I believe hyperarousal was at the root of my intermittent and confusing struggle with alcohol over the past few years. This discovery surfaced as I continued to feel out of balance even after making the lifestyle changes I thought would help me feel equanimous: no alcohol or caffeine, a wholesome diet, regular exercise, and good sleep hygiene. But I still wasn’t sleeping well and I struggled to focus. My brain was sluggish. I felt detached from work and didn’t feel grounded. So I kept looking for things to tweak — diet, exercise, supplements — something had to help.
Then we took an off-grid vacation and I stumbled upon what my brain and body needed. Peace. Quiet. Solitude. Freedom from the noise of the modern world. For five days we unplugged and removed all the pacifiers. No phone. No Internet. No podcasts. No music. No computer. No news. The lack of inputs created a spacious void. Space for my mind and body to breathe, rejuvenate, and just be. I read, journaled, hiked, meditated, sat by the pool, practiced yoga, and got a few massages. I leaned into the expanse of time to ground myself — bare feet on the earth and uncovered skin in the sun — and felt whole.
During that week I read the fantastic book Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport and broke an addiction to technology I didn’t realize I had. Turns out, our devices and all of the stimulation they offer can prevent our brains from fully unwinding. Knowing this, it’s easier to not check social media or texts or listen to podcasts on an endless stream. I deleted most of the podcasts I regularly listened to, and I liberally discard the ones that remain if the episode doesn’t resonate. Pre-vacation I was easily listening to several hours of podcasts per day between walks, chores, exercise, and down-time. Now there are days when I don’t listen to anything and some days when I have more time (when I’m flying) and I’ll listen longer. I also removed social media from my phone and I haven’t checked the accounts in over a month. It feels fantastic to not waste time scrolling when I have valuable things to do. I’m still unsure if and how I’ll bring social media back into my life. But I’m in no hurry.
In the space created by removing noisy digital distractions, I’ve continued to read, journal, and practice yoga. I’m meditating daily — sometimes with Sam Harris’s Waking Up app, other times on my own. My dormant creativity is starting to sprout. And I’m connecting more frequently with friends and family. All of these behaviors cultivate a sense of calm and grounding — they’re a tonic for hyperarousal, not items on a daily checklist.
Re-learning how to honor our inherent human need for solitude and uninterrupted time to think, breathe, and simply exist, is a critical component of calming hyperarousal. When we subdue the cacophony of stimulation exhausting our souls, we can hear the subtle whispers from mind and body that will lead us back into balance.