Meaningful Happiness with Dr. Scott Conkright

Cats, Dogs and Humans: Part 2

Scott Conkright

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Your body remembers what your mind may never have known. Deep within muscle and tissue, in the rhythm of your breath and the tension in your shoulders, lies a somatic record of your earliest relationships—created long before you had words to describe them.

This profound exploration of embodied memory reveals how our nervous systems develop in relationship with others. From our first moments, our bodies are recording not just what happens, but what to expect. A warm smile becomes an internal feeling of safety. An unanswered cry teaches the system to amplify distress or shut down entirely. These aren't conscious strategies but bodily adaptations that become our implicit knowing of how the world works.

The science behind this process shows how subcortical brain regions store affective experiences before cognitive memory develops. This explains why, even as adults, we might feel unsafe without knowing why, or find ourselves repeating relational patterns despite our best intentions. Our earliest experiences create a somatic script—not a narrative we consciously follow, but a feeling-based blueprint for how to move through the world.

But here's what makes this understanding so powerful: because these patterns were formed in relationship, they can be transformed through relationship as well. Through therapy, friendship, and love that stays present with our big feelings, we can gradually reshape our nervous systems. This healing doesn't happen through insight alone but through new experiences of being seen, understood, and accepted—creating new embodied memories that expand our capacity for connection.

Want to understand yourself more deeply? Start by listening to the wisdom of your body. It holds truths your conscious mind may still be catching up to.

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For more information about Scott and his practice, articles, videos, and more: https://linktr.ee/scottconkright

Speaker 1:

The body remembers. Long before the brain understands, before you could think about your past, your body was already living in it. The chest held patterns of tension, the eyes flinched before words were formed, the shoulders curled inward with a slump of shame, ever before it had a name. Core feelings, our big feelings, our affects, are not just experience but expectation. And the body stores that expectation Not in words, not in conscious thought, but in posture, tone, breath and timing. The outside world is experienced and remembered inside the body as an analog experience. It's a duplication from the outside into the inside. The fast, painful sting of a smack is stored in the body as a quick, painful, felt experience, now tied to the person who delivered that smack. And the slow, happy glow of a warm smile is taken inside and held as a comforting blanket to the soul. That precious feeling is now tied to the face that elicited it. Every time you were held in warmth, your heart learned something about safety. Every time your signal went unanswered, your nervous system adjusted the volume Turn it up to panic, turn it down to disappear. Adapt or flood, act out or shut down. This is the beginning of the self, not as narrative, not even yet as emotion, but as the felt rhythm of what it means to be alive in the presence of another. Scientifically, this occurs in the earliest interplay between subcortical regions, subcortical systems, that is, including the amygdala, hypothalamus, the periaqueductal gray and the slowly forming brainstem cortical loop. These systems aren't building beliefs, these are not thoughts. They're shaping patterns, affect flows through them, like weather, marking the body's landscape with impressions that persist. This is why, even as adults, we say things like I don't feel safe and I don't know why, or something about them just puts me on edge. These are echoes, somatic memories of early affective weather systems. The infant brain doesn't yet store memory the way we think of it. There's no personal timeline, no coherent story, but the body already knows. This is implicit memory, a knowing that lives in muscle and gut, in speed and hesitation, in where the eyes go and where the body turns. And over time this implicit memory forms a script, not one we write with words, but one we live.

Speaker 1:

A child raised in an environment of sensitive attunement begins to predict comfort. They reach out with a particular faith. The body moves towards connection. But a child raised in disconnection learns to expect absence or intrusion and the body prepares for what's likely, not for what's ideal. From an affect relational theory perspective, identity begins to shape itself as a choreography of affect and bodily memory, rehearsed in relationship. Before the child knows who they are, they feel what the world seems to want from them. They become what works, or at least what survives. This is not determination, it's just scaffolding. The infant is not just passively absorbing, they are very, very much working with their core feelings, making a world out of their experiences. Moment by moment they learn not what is true but what feels true, and feeling at this stage is reality.

Speaker 1:

So when we say the body remembers, we're saying that the self is first a felt sense of pattern, a map of how it has been to be me in contact, in distress, in desire and the experiences of relief. It is a bodily history encoded with pre-verbal language, one that is precise at a gut level but inarticulate otherwise. This is why later, even when cognition is more mature, our sense of self can still collapse in the face of relational rupture, why words sometimes fail to reach us when we're overwhelmed, why the brain signals all's okay but the body still shakes in fear or distress. In fear or distress, the body holds a deeper timeline. Understanding this shifts everything. It means healing isn't just telling a better story. It's listening to the story that was said in sensation before language ever arrived, and slowly offering it a different ending, one with more pause, more presence, more possibilities.

Speaker 1:

Relationality doesn't grow in isolation, obviously. Relationality is not a genetic prescription that unfolds once activated by a combination of time and chemical changes. It grows in multiple spaces of in-betweenness between increasingly complex relationships with oneself and with others, some harmonious, some conflictual. Some, as discussed in psychoanalytic circles, involve developmental growth, while others reflect developmental conflict. From the beginning of interpretation, of meaning, of memory, the infant cries. It is impelled towards reflective signaling for connection, and the world responds or it doesn't. When someone arrives with warmth, the cry becomes part of a pattern feeling met, feeling soothed, feeling seen. But when no one comes, or when what arrives is unpredictable, the pattern becomes jagged and the affect doesn't resolve. It loops or it numbs or it explodes. We learn to feel by how others feel us, and the embodiment of the embodied responsiveness they provide us is what is left. Each of us has a unique affective signature that says more about us than our faces at times. We are known in intimate relationships by the way we move with each other.

Speaker 1:

Dynamic vitality affects form, this. This is co-regulation, and it's not a parenting technique. It's a way caregivers are with the child. It's the focus, or lack thereof, of the feeling states oscillating between two bodies, two souls. Our early nervous system doesn't yet know how to stabilize on its own. We need another body, a body that's tuned in to help bring the signal back to the baseline. And it's not just about being comforted, it's about being understood too, held not just physically, but emotionally, affectively as well. It's the facial expression that matches our own, the tone of voice that slows down when we're distressed, the eyes that widen when we're excited.

Speaker 1:

These dynamic vitality affects. They are relational movements in time that don't get remembered necessarily as separate events, but rather as a scene or snippet of events. If you've seen Inside Out which is, by the way, actually based on affect theory you can get an idea of what I'm talking about. The early childhood scenes of Baby Riley depicted in the movie show a warm and attuned connection. Scenes of baby Riley depicted in the movie. The early childhood scenes of baby Riley depicted in the movie show a warm and attuned connection through dynamic vitality affects. These experiences laid down pathways in the brain that strengthen the bridges between affect and regulation, sensation and interpretation, experience and reflection. They teach the nervous system what a feeling is, not as a concept but in experience, from an art perspective. This is where affect begins to get organized, no longer just flooding or retreating, but gradually being shaped into usable emotion.

Speaker 1:

The child begins to expect not just safety but a narratable experience that is meaningful and engaging. Feelings that rise and then settle, moments that pass and then return. Emotions with beginning, middle and an end. Healthy attunement, healthy attachment and healthy connection strengthen the child's ability to both feel and execute their will. That is their sense of mastery, which I refer to most often as agency. It provides the narrative skills for the child to create stories about their experiences, allowing for coherence with minimal distortion of reality.

Speaker 1:

But what if the echo is distorted? What if joy is met with dismissal or sadness or with shame? The child learns something else that certain feelings are not welcome. To be seen is to be too much. The safest option is to hide or to perform strategies. And they get stored not in thought but in tone of voice, in gait and in muscle. The child doesn't say I'm afraid of rejection. The child moves away from delight because it's been paired with judgment.

Speaker 1:

The script is written in avoidance, not in words. The avoidance of connection is not an intellectual decision, but an affective one. It is due to a script written on how to deal with painful feelings. This is why later, even when someone says you're allowed to feel whatever you're feeling, the system doesn't believe it because the belief isn't in the cortex, it's in the bones, it's in the echo. That never came, or came too harshly or too fast.

Speaker 1:

But here's the beauty of it Since affect is shaped in a relationship, it can be reshaped in relationship as well, not through insight alone, but through new echoes being felt again, but differently. Being mirrored not by judgment but by presence, being allowed to feel big without being left to deal with it alone. This is the work of emotional reparenting, of therapy, of friendship, of love that doesn't flinch. It is the slow retuning of the relational body to a different emotional key, not just to feel better, but to feel fully and to stay In this way. The relationship is not just the context for emotional life, it is the curriculum. The faces we grew up with become the mirrors in which we learn to recognize our feelings. And if we're lucky or if we do the work, we find new mirrors, new rhythms, new reflections and we begin again.

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