Dealing with Instant Amygdala Hijacks

He inquired if I had a knife to cut his hefty seven-kilo fruit. Instantly, I felt a wave of anxiety; the mere thought of a knife conjured associations with harm and mortality. Yet I understood that a knife is merely a tool. Typically, my amygdala hijacks manifest as a freeze response, rather than fight or flight, due to my upbringing. Thankfully, my cognitive brain quickly intervened, and I asked what type of knife he needed.

He suggested, “Perhaps a pocket knife,” explaining his desire to slice the watermelon. My amygdala attempted another hijack, but I managed to diffuse the situation by smiling and asking, “Are you referring to your watermelon?” He nodded eagerly.

The Joy of Having the Right Tool

I always keep a small emergency kit in my bag that includes a Swiss knife for such occasions. When I mentioned I had one, his face lit up with excitement. I was curious where he intended to cut the watermelon. He replied, “I’d be grateful if you could join me in the nearby park while I prepare this treat.”

By associating "baby" with the watermelon, my amygdala remained calm—this was a skill I had honed over the years. I fondly remembered the park, where I often walked barefoot on the grass and did pull-ups on tree branches. I agreed to accompany him.

The Secret Pleasure of Enjoying Watermelon

He exclaimed, “I love eating this baby!” It sounded far more pleasant than the thought of harming it. In my childhood, my grandma would often say, “I will eat your sweet tongue,” whenever I made a clever remark. The man shared that he had been diabetic for several years and that his doctor had advised him to avoid certain foods, watermelon included. He had quit smoking and drinking but still yearned for watermelon—something I could relate to from my own experiences with cravings.

I offered him a tiny spoon from my emergency kit, but he quickly asked, “Would you mind if I used my hands?” I assured him it was no issue and handed him a wet tissue to clean up. He then began eating the watermelon with his hands, juice running down his chin while he sat in a relaxed position. I was reminded of children, witnessing his innocence and authenticity.

Signs of Connection and Conversation

“Excuse my rudeness; would you like some?” he asked. Not wanting to reveal that I hadn’t tasted watermelon in years, I thanked him, stating that dinner was approaching. He understood and began expressing frustration about the dietary restrictions imposed by his wife, doctor, and family. He felt suffocated by their well-meaning intentions, which his emotional brain interpreted as threats.

He apologized for forgetting his utensils, attributing it to his aging mind. The watermelon was a seasonal favorite, alongside mango, which was also on his restricted list. He offered me another piece, and when I smiled, he again apologized, attributing it to his forgetfulness.

While he took another big bite, he mentioned his struggles with intimacy and asked, “Do you still have relations with your partner?” I smiled but chose not to respond verbally. I sensed his intentions were not malicious; he likely sought a way to express his feelings. When he noticed my silence, he locked eyes with me and, with a tone of regret, apologized for his question.

Taming the Temptations of Ego

This man’s innocent demeanor painted a familiar picture for me. I have friends battling diabetes and have faced the onset of type II diabetes in my youth. With family history also playing a part, I’ve researched the topic extensively. My ego tempted me to lecture him about sugar’s detrimental effects, but I refrained. He had undoubtedly heard similar advice countless times over his life, and there was no need to add to his burdens.

I chose to listen rather than comment, recognizing that he needed companionship, not judgment. This realization enhanced our connection and offered him fleeting happiness. Although I knew his joy was temporary, induced by the sugar rush, it was a small comfort in his life.

The Meaning of Brief Connections

Human relationships vary; some are long-lasting, while others are fleeting. This particular interaction was brief, and I aimed to keep it in perspective. I wanted him to feel heard and supported, rather than judged. He was already grappling with wounds, and I hoped to offer some healing through empathy and active listening.

Though I only used a few affirming words, it seemed to the man as though we had an extensive conversation. He radiated gratitude, and his cheerful energy was contagious, reminiscent of a child receiving a long-desired toy.

The Essence of Farewells

As he neared the end of his watermelon, I realized it was time for me to leave. I briefly wondered why he chose such a large fruit, knowing he would have to discard the rest. Then I recalled my own childhood yearning for bigger toys, which made me hesitate to ask.

He shared snippets of his past—his challenging teenage years, marital strife, and familial troubles. While his stories were captivating, I knew I had to go. Sensing my departure, he said, “I better let you go. You’ve made my day.”

He wanted to continue talking, but we stood up together. He headed to wash his hands at a nearby creek. When I bid him farewell, he embraced me tightly, a gesture that resonated deeply within me. I returned his hug and offered gentle pats on his back, expressing warmth.

He asked for my contact information, and I shared my card, hoping for future encounters. I believe in investing in serendipity, as we never know who might bring valuable lessons into our lives. With a joyful smile, he waved goodbye, and I reciprocated until he was out of sight, his image etched in my memory.

Final Thoughts and Reflections

This brief encounter with a stranger highlighted significant aspects of my psyche. He transformed from a stranger into a cherished memory—a vivid image of a kind soul holding a watermelon in the market that inspired me to act mindfully.

Firstly, the interaction illustrated the interplay between my emotional brain and my rational mind. Despite years of effort to manage my amygdala responses, it still flares up in perceived threats, even in safe situations. Secondly, I recognized the temptations stemming from a caring ego, which, although well-meaning, can be misguided.

This man needed understanding and companionship, not a lecture. By recognizing his need, I was able to foster a meaningful connection and contribute to his momentary happiness. I understood that life’s joys are fleeting and that even small moments of connection can have a profound impact.

I believed he could benefit from professional help to address his suppressed emotions, but the timing wasn’t right for such conversations. This meeting was a serendipitous moment on both our journeys.

As Melinda Blau noted, we meet consequential strangers who enrich our lives. Some may become friends or reappear in times of need. We should remain open to these encounters, for they may hold valuable lessons for us.

Thank you for taking the time to read my reflections. I wish you a life filled with health and happiness.