Calling a penalty

How do we short-circuit that amygdala hijack in ourselves?

William Ury writes and speaks about "going to the balcony," to take a break and observe without acting or reacting.

In a football game, the ref might throw a red flag to stop the game and rule on a penalty committed by a player.

When can we call a penalty on ourselves and why would we do that?

If we are "seeing red" we are so enraged we may say to ourselves, the hell with conflict transformation, mediation, and win-win. Fire someone. Divorce. Quit a job. Sue somebody. Lock them out. It's a battle and only one is going to win.

Sadly, while absolutely understandable and commonplace, that amygdala hijack is no longer as adaptive as it was when we were up against a bear coming into our cave in prehistoric times. Despite Hollywood versions of the amygdala hijack being just what we need on a routine basis, in real life it is a losing path in the overwhelming majority of situations. Not only does it usually result in a lose-lose outcome, or even a complete victory for the other guy, it damages reputations and future prospects in most cases. "He's not dumb, but he lets his temper control him instead of him controlling his temper." "She's abrasive." "He is abusive to his staff." "She is abrupt and insulting."

This can result in a feedback loop in which someone hears about your prickly nature and either avoids working with you or begins an interaction aggressively in order to gain the advantage over your well known aggression. You may have only acted in service to your amygdala once but now it's triggered more frequently because people "know" that's how you engage and so they come into relationship with you doing the things they believe they need to in order to handle your normal manner of reacting to conflict of any sort.

This is why calling a penalty on myself is helpful. When I feel my self-control beginning to slip away as I'm triggered and my amygdala begins to assert dominance over my attitude and actions, my vestigial pre-frontal cortex, my executive, evolved portion of my brain needs to toss a red flag, calling a halt to the game. I need to leave the field and walk up the long stairs to the balcony, as William Ury advises.

Sometimes that means literally leaving the room, hanging up the phone, or exiting the Zoom session. If possible, do so in a way that leaves some hope. "OK, I have to pause to think about all this. We can talk later. I'll process some of this and get back to you." But if your only choice is Attack or Leave, you will almost always be best served by just leaving. Harsh words linger. They can taint future interactions far more than the abrupt exit.