Let me take you back to my first day of college. It was a terrible day! As a freshman at the local pub, I tried to mingle but felt completely out of place. My pupils dilated, my heart raced, and my palms were so sweaty I had to hold my beer with two hands. Every attempt at starting a conversation felt like an oncoming social tsunami. Little did I know, my brain was working against me.

My amygdala, sensing potential social threats, flooded my system with stress hormones like cortisol, part of the brain’s fight-or-flight mechanism. Meanwhile, my prefrontal cortex struggled to maintain composure amid the stress. The decrease in dopamine levels, essential for reward and pleasure, intensified my feelings of disconnection and anxiety.

This complex symphony of chemical and neural activity shaped my social interactions and overall experience. I felt doomed.

Today, as a professor of applied neuroscience, I appreciate the brain’s ability to adapt and change. Imagine meeting Max, a client intrigued by neuroplasticity but skeptical about its implications beyond brain mechanics.

“So, are you saying my brain can change just by interacting differently with people?” Max asks, leaning forward with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

“Absolutely,” I reply. “Let me share a story.” I recount the tale of Emily, a spirited retiree who sought help after a stroke........

© Psychology Today