Hazel Hayes

Nadia tells me about another study they did where they put three groups of dogs in harnesses. Nothing happened to the first group, the second group received electric shocks that they could stop by pushing a lever, and the third group were shocked too, but they had no way of stopping it. Later, they put all the dogs in cages, which they could easily escape from, and administered electric shocks again. The first and second group just walked out, but the third lay down and took it.
‘They had learned that there was nothing they could do to stop the pain,’ says Nadia. ‘They believed they had no control, and so they allowed themselves to suffer. It’s called learned helplessness.’

So until next week, whatever your brain tells you – that you’re useless, that you’re broken, that you’re unfixable – just hear it, acknowledge it and try to let it pass. You are not broken just because your brain says so.’

Are you a banana?’ she asks.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Are you a banana?’ she asks again, with no hesitation and not a hint of a smile.
‘No,’ I say, ‘I am not a banana.’
‘Right,’ she says, ‘good. That’s good.’
She pauses a moment, as though deep in thought.
‘What if you thought you were a banana? Would that make you a banana?’
‘No,’ I say, ‘I would be a human who thinks she’s a banana.’
‘Okay, good to know,’ says Nadia, like I’ve just given her the answer to a puzzle that’s been bothering her for ages.
‘I’m not sure what the point is,’ I say, a little frustrated now.
‘Well, I’m just wondering, if your brain were to tell you all the time, rather loudly and emphatically, that you were a banana, would you be a banana then?’
And suddenly it clicks, and I smile and say, ‘No. Because thinking something doesn’t make it real.’