What’s at the Bottom of That Elevator Shaft?
Turning a negative spiral into discernment
I haven’t always been the best at small talk. Someone for whom this comes naturally might have asked, “How’s your day going?” upon entering an elevator with a professor before an early-morning talk. Not me, though. I asked a question that still occasionally gives me nightmares: “What do you think is at the bottom of this elevator shaft?”
Spikes. That was his answer. At the bottom of every elevator shaft, several human-sized sharp spikes are waiting to impale everyone should the elevator suddenly free-fall in their general direction. A great way to perhaps not avoid a lawsuit, but at least make sure the victims don’t have a say.
Of course, I know there are no spikes at the bottom of any elevator shaft. This was the same professor who made an analogy about misinterpreting statistics that I’m never sure how to talk about online without getting put on some kind of watch list. He said that statistically, the best way to make sure that there is nobody on your flying metal air tube who has intentions of causing it to rapidly drop from the sky using a device that rhymes with “mom” is to take your own device that rhymes with “mom” on your flying metal air tube. Because the chances of there being two on the same one is, statistically, impossible. (It’s important to note that this was not then, and is not now, advice).
So, now, I think about this man every time I get in an elevator or on a plane. And then I think about spikes and devices that rhyme with “mom”. And then I start thinking, “What if?”
Because even when we know things are impossible or, at the very least, extremely unlikely, our brains have a wonderful capacity to ruminate on them happening anyway. We can start obsessing over negatives that are unlikely to happen to the extent that we miss the positives that are actually happening. Things that make an impression on us for some reason stick with us, and our brains bring them back when something reminds us of them, often in a warped kind of way that’s twisted toward the negative. This professor comes to mind easily because I liked him—he was funny and engaging and made statistics bearable (I hate statistics. Yes, I’m a scientist. Two things can be true simultaneously). It’s just that my brain’s primary association with him is imaginary death spikes.
These types of associations aren’t always useless and unhelpful. They can:
Help us recognize red flags before they wave at full mast
Teach us how to reframe thoughts when our subconscious dredges up past experiences in current situations
I wrote in a previous post about how I thought I could manifest bad things by thinking about them. While I do have a suspiciously strong track record of predicting things right before they happen, I’m definitely not making them happen with my mind. I’m subconsciously using my pattern recognition skills without realizing it, and those are bringing these ideas about negative things to the forefront of my mind. This can be where a lot of the ruminating on bad things can come from. We subconsciously pick up on patterns that indicate a potential negative direction, whether that’s rational or not. Our brains detect familiar patterns from past situations (danger, discomfort, something unresolved) and drag them forward. If you’ve ever disliked someone you don’t know because they resemble a particularly mean high school teacher, that’s your brain making assumptions and sensing danger based on a previously established pattern. It’s not intuition; it’s data disguised as a vibe.
Understanding this is an amazing tool for self-awareness and discernment. And if you find yourself spiraling, here are a few questions to stop and ask:
What previous situation made me feel this way?
What happened in that situation that I’m unconsciously associating with this one?
What is different about the current situation?
Is my anxiety rational?
If yes: What action can I take to prevent the bad thing from happening?
If no (e.g., “spikes at the bottom of an elevator shaft”): What new association can I form to dispel the anxiety next time it resurfaces?
This will help you learn how to separate instinct from imagination and control the narrative of your anxiety.