The Sensorimotor Feedback Loop and Trauma

 
 
 
 

Cornelia Elbrecht AThR, SEP, ANZACATA, IEATA, IACAET

At the core of life is a permanent feedback loop between sensory perception of the environment and our response to such information through active motor impulses. Complex early childhood trauma severs or distorts the feedback loop between sensory perception and motor impulses. Clients either act out with lots of motor impulses, but have dissociated the sensory feedback loop, so internally nothing ever arrives. Or they act in, being hyper alert, “oversensitive”, but have shut down most active impulses to fly underneath the radar to stay safe.

In the art making process clients encounter the constructive and destructive aspects of the self as processes of psychic change and identity formation (Sholt, M., & Gavron, T., 2006). The sheet of white paper, the blank canvas, the smooth surface of the clay become available for creation only through an act of destruction; we must have the courage to take an existing order apart. Clients who have been overwhelmed by destruction, lose their ability to create, because they no longer believe in the possibility of repair. They do not dare to grasp and handle life; their hands instead retreat and freeze in terror, or blindly act out. They either override their inner fears to avoid feeling victimised, or they try to avoid becoming a target by becoming as invisible as possible.

In both cases their ability to relate is dimmed down. Art therapy exercises need to focus on building sensorimotor resources that will eventually allow an active response to physical and emotional injuries. (Elbrecht, 2021) Such an active response is capable of undoing the patterns of dissociation in the nervous system without the need to concentrate on ‘what happened’ (Heller, L., & LaPierre, A., 2012) (Levine, In an unspoken Voice: How the body releases trauma and restores goodness, 2010) (Levine, P.A., & Kline, M, 2007).

The dual polarity of sensory perception and motor impulses each play their role in our haptic interactions with the world. Clients who are relaxed can be in their body without paying too much attention to it. At the same time, they have their senses available to take in their environment, observe it, learn from it, orient in it and express themselves in it. However none of this is the case for traumatized individuals. The stress-responses arising from the autonomic nervous system instantly impact on the sensory and the motor division in the peripheral nervous system.

In complex trauma clients the feedback loop between reaching out with a motor impulse and receiving an implicit sensory response from their action is dissociated or disorganised, or both. Those who act out will engage in huge action cycles, using lots of art materials, creating chaos in the process. In the Clay Field they will push all the clay out, throw it in a bucket, then lift it all up, smash it back down on the table - but they will not feel themselves. They do not receive reliable sensory feedback from their actions. They will not experience joy, or pride, or pain. They will rush to do the next thing before this could happen.

Clients who act out have learnt to dissociate their sensory division. They equate feeling something with getting hurt. They are hyperactive, but don’t receive any sensory feedback from their manic action cycles.

Zac (pictured; not his real name) hitting the clay is a hyper aroused boy from a violent home. Not only took it many attempts by the therapist to down-regulate his nervous system, but also to introduce safe sensory experiences to him such as floating his hands in warm water and packing his hands into clay to give him a safe hold.

On the opposite side of the spectrum we find clients who are braced or collapsed in metabolic shutdown; they will barely engage with the art materials. They will draw faint and lifeless structures, or roll tiny balls between two fingertips, and not dare to ask for more or different materials. Some of them feel lots but are paralysed when it comes to expressing themselves. Some are crippled by shame. They will avoid eye contact, barely whisper, and feel painfully awkward. One girl almost disappeared underneath her hoodie, the other had all her hair brushed forward so her face was not visible. A woman could only engage when she was fully covered underneath a large shawl, which acted like a veil hiding her entire body. It takes time to gain the trust of these clients.

Clients who act in tend to be hyper alert; they inhibit their motor impulses. They fear to make marks in the Clay Field or on paper, because then they would become visible and – in their experience – become a target for getting hurt.

Lisa (not her real name) sits hesitantly at the Clay Field and would benefit from encouragement to work with pressure, once she feels safe enough in the setting and with the therapist. This could be making handprints of any sort, creating footsteps with a toy, leaning onto the table and pushing or pulling the clay. Exercises that will enable her to sense her strength and capability. However she is too shy to engage with any of these suggestions. It is not until the therapist notices that her bare feet are secretly enjoying a puddle of water underneath the table, one a previous client had left. The therapist places the Clay Field underneath the table for her, and gradually she can kick and stomp until Lisa stands up proudly. “Walking” upright in the clay she can say: “Look at me!”. She has created a mountain with a movement that rhythmically resonates throughout her body. 

If we compare the two case histories, Zac was hyperaroused and needed downregulating and safe sensory stimulation, whereas Lisa was hypoaroused, immobilized and needed encouragement for safe motor impulses and movement. Zac was acting out, and Lisa was acting in. In both cases the therapist also applied a Somatic Experiencing technique Peter Levine calls pendulation. (Levine, In an unspoken Voice: How the body releases trauma and restores goodness, 2010)  Pendulation assumes that we have a trauma vortex on one side, and a healing vortex on the other. It is essential to divert a child’s attention away from the overwhelming trauma vortex and towards the healing vortex, to build resources. Zac could have gone on pounding and hitting the clay, but while having worked hard he would have left empty handed. Conversely to keep sitting with Lisa in front of a field, which she does not dare to touch, would just confirm her disempowered and overwhelmed state of being.

Yet Zac’s hands could enjoy the warm water, and Lisa’s feet did know how she could stand up. Pendulating to an alternative pathway enabled both children to experience an embodied and renewed sense of self.


Bibliography

Elbrecht, C. (2021). Healing traumatized children at the clay field; sensorimotor embodiment of developmental milestones. Berkley CA: North Atlantic Books.

Heller, L., & LaPierre, A. (2012). Healing developmental trauma. Berkeley: North Atlantic Books.

Levine, P. A. (2010). In an unspoken Voice: How the body releases trauma and restores goodness. Bekerley California: North Atlantic Books.

Levine, P.A., & Kline, M. (2007). Trauma through a child's eyes. Berkeley CA: North Atlantic Books.

Sholt, M., & Gavron, T. (2006). Therapeutic qualities of clay-work in art therapy and psychotherapy: A review. Journal of American Art Therapy Association, 23(6), 66-72.


 

Cornelia Elbrecht

AThR, SEP, ANZACATA, IEATA, IACAET


Healing Trauma in Children with Clay Field Therapy®

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