Instincts 01: Self-Preservation

Of all the instincts we carry within us, self-preservation is the oldest and most fundamental. It is the force that kept our ancestors alive when predators stalked the grasslands and a major storm or wildfire was a death sentence if caught exposed. This instinct is not unique to humans. It exists across the animal kingdom, from insects freezing to avoid predators to mammals fighting fiercely to protect their young. At its most basic level, self-preservation is about staying alive.

Scientifically speaking, the self-preservation instinct originates deep in the oldest parts of our brains. The brainstem and limbic system, or “lizard brain.” At its core, this instinct triggers automatic responses such as fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. In moments of perceived danger, the amygdala, which is part of the brain’s limbic system, fires rapidly, flooding our bodies with stress hormones like adrenaline and cortisol. Our heart rate quickens, breathing becomes shallow, muscles tense, and we’re prepared instantly for action. These responses happen before conscious thought can even form.

Without this instinct, humans simply wouldn’t have survived. It protects us reflexively, swiftly, and powerfully. But there is a difficult truth I’ve come to understand about my own life: while self-preservation has kept me safe, it has also been responsible for some of my deepest struggles.

When Self-Preservation Misfires

For me, the self-preservation instinct often showed up as fear and anxiety. Fear of rejection, abandonment, and loneliness. In my marriage, this meant that even minor disagreements triggered my instinctual defenses. Rather than pausing to understand, I’d immediately feel threatened. My instinctive fight response surfaced as defensiveness, arguments, and insistence on being right and controlling others’ perceptions of me. Flight and freeze responses were not so common for me, but they have been notable in people close to me, showing as disengagement and emotional avoidance. My fawn response compelled me to desperately accommodate the wishes of the people important to me, even when doing so compromised my sense of self and turned me against my values.

These ancient instincts weren’t trying to harm me. On the contrary, they were trying to protect me from the perceived threats of being alone in the wilderness. But instead, they were slowly damaging my most precious relationships and building hidden resentment and self-loathing.

The Science of an Ancient Response

To understand why this instinct is so powerful, it helps to look at its evolutionary and neurological background. The self-preservation instinct is embedded deep within our brains, primarily in the brainstem and limbic system, the oldest evolutionary layers of the brain. The amygdala acts as an alarm system, scanning our environment constantly for potential threats. When danger is detected, the amygdala immediately sends signals to the hypothalamus, which then activates the sympathetic nervous system, preparing us physically to respond.

This response is release of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, which flood our bloodstream, sharpening our senses, increasing our heart rate, and mobilizing energy reserves. This entire response happens incredibly quickly, long before our cognitive brain (the prefrontal cortex or PFC) can assess the threat rationally. This system was crucial for early humans facing genuine physical dangers, but today it often responds with the same urgency to non-lethal situations such as public speaking, a tense conversation, perceived criticism and passing traffic.

Self-Preservation in a Modern World

Our brains haven’t fully adapted to modern life, where threats are often social, psychological, or imagined rather than physical. This mismatch creates significant tension, stress, and anxiety.

Today, our instinctive self-preservation systems are triggered not only by genuinely dangerous situations, but also by the near-constant stimulation from the devices, machines, and media we surround ourselves with. Notifications, messages, emails, news alerts, and social media feeds flood our senses continually, demanding attention and reaction at every waking moment. The sheer volume and intensity of this input are something humans would historically have encountered only during rare, genuinely catastrophic events. Think major natural disasters, or a an elephant stampede.

Our nervous systems simply were not evolved to handle this chronic, low-grade state of alertness. Businesses and advertisers deliberately capitalise on our instinctive responses, using notifications, emotional headlines, and compelling visuals specifically engineered to activate our amygdala and keep us engaged. Each beep, buzz, or visual cue triggers our self-preservation system, causing a miniature surge of stress hormones and a heightened state of awareness. This keeps us plugged in, attentive, and responsive, but at a significant cost. Add to this our willful engagement with stimulating materials such as film, games and sports. All driven by the same underlying instincts.

Stress, as a response to genuine threats, is a valuable motivator. In small doses, it can sharpen our focus, boost productivity, and prompt beneficial action. However, when we live continually in a state of elevated stress, never fully relaxing or recovering, it damages both our physical and mental health. Chronic stress can lead to heart disease, impaired immunity, anxiety disorders, depression, and sleep disturbances. Emotionally, it leaves us irritable, withdrawn, and reactive, damaging our relationships and eroding the very sense of connection and safety we instinctively crave.

This constant overstimulation and stress can make everyday life feel exhausting, overwhelming, and dangerous. This even when we face no immediate threat at all. Our ancient self-preservation instinct is persistently engaged, robbing us of genuine rest, emotional openness, and healthy connection with others.

A Personal Turning Point

My turning point came not from ignoring fear, but from understanding its origin. However, reaching that understanding wasn’t easy. It took a significant relationship crisis, deep pain, the loss of important friendships and insight into harm I was causing my own children for me to finally appreciate how powerfully my self-preservation instincts had been ruling my life.

The catalyst for change came during a particularly difficult period with Emelie. Our relationship was strained, and my automatic reactions, driven by fear and defensiveness, were pushing us to the brink. At the same time, important friendships crumbled under the weight of my anxious, self-protective behaviour. It was devastating. For the first time, I clearly saw that if I didn’t find a way to understand and address my instinctive reactions, I could lose everything that truly mattered, ironically creating the very situation I was subconciously so afraid of.

This realisation led me to examine deeply ingrained patterns that I’d carried since childhood. I saw how my responses had been conditioned early in life, shaped by my family’s approach to emotional conflict, discipline, and relationships and the prevalent culture of the time. My automatic defences, arguing and overly appeasing, were learned responses building on the self preservation instinct. Understanding these early influences was difficult, confronting, but ultimately empowering.

The process of unravelling these instincts involved many long, uncomfortable conversations. The people closest to me patiently and lovingly held space for me to explore difficult emotions, despite the harm my defensive reactions and controlling behaviour had sometimes caused them. It was their compassion, patience, and gentle honesty that allowed me to see myself more clearly.

Therapy also played a role. Primarily for me, it was preparing notes before therapy that served as the necessary insight and birth of self-compassion. I had also been studying parenting resources suggested to me by friends I had alienated. They turned out to not only to support my children, but to re-parent myself. Gently learning healthier ways of responding to emotional stress.

Slowly, with reflection, therapy, and the support of the patient and loving people around me, I learned to pause when my anxiety flared. Instead of immediately reacting defensively, I could now acknowledge my instinctive responses with compassion, understand their origins, and consciously choose a different path.

The journey remains ongoing. There are still times when fear and anxiety rise strongly. But now, each moment of pause and awareness feels like progress. Progress towards stronger relationships, deeper self-understanding, and a more conscious and compassionate life. And the fears that I carried of losing people if I didn’t hold on so tightly have mostly dissipated. I may not have learned the first time, or even the second, but I’m hopeful I’m now on the right track.

From Automatic Reactions to Conscious Choices

If your self-preservation instinct often feels overwhelming, leading to anxiety, defensiveness, or withdrawal, please know that your experience is entirely valid. This instinct has kept you alive and safe countless times. Your brain and body are doing precisely what they evolved to do.

Yet, in recognising this, we gain power to choose differently. Understanding the science behind these reactions helps create space between instinctive impulses and thoughtful responses. In that space lies our freedom.

Reducing Baseline Stress:

• Mindfulness and Meditation: Daily mindfulness calms the amygdala and engages the PFC, lowering baseline stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline.
• Physical Activity: Exercise helps clear stress hormones from the body and increases endorphins, serotonin, and dopamine, which stabilise mood and promote feelings of wellbeing.
• Intentional Unplugging: Limiting exposure to constant device notifications and media stimulation reduces unnecessary amygdala activation.
• Quality Rest and Sleep: Adequate sleep balances stress hormones and restores optimal functioning of emotional regulation centres in the brain.
• Social Connection and Community: Meaningful interactions stimulate oxytocin, counteracting stress responses and fostering calm and emotional safety.

Techniques for Staying Calm During Moments of Elevated Stress :

• Pause and Breathe: Slow, deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, calming the body and giving the PFC a chance to guide your response rather than leaving it to reactions.
• Recognise and Name the Feeling: Labelling emotions engages cognitive pathways, reducing amygdala reactivity and shifting you from pure instinct to conscious awareness.
• Ground Yourself Physically: Tactile grounding techniques signal safety to the nervous system, helping reduce immediate stress responses.
• Slow Down Communication: Speaking calmly and deliberately soothes both your system and that of the person you’re with, supporting thoughtful dialogue instead of defensive escalation.
• Practice Compassionate Self-Talk: Reassuring yourself activates calming neurochemicals and strengthens emotional regulation over time.
• Commit to Curiosity: Choosing curiosity over judgement engages your reasoning brain, fostering empathy, openness, and constructive problem-solving.

Each of these practices shifts our experience from automatic limbic-driven reactions to conscious, prefrontal-cortex-guided choices. Over time, this builds emotional resilience, improves relationships, and restores a sense of calm, safety, and agency in daily life.

A Hopeful Future

This is all quite personal and I guess you’re wondering what it has to do with the Living More with Less project. To be fair, I havn’t been particularly clear about the connections, but it is really more than just about my personal wellbeing. Understanding what drives us sits at the very heart of why we are undertaking this project.

Our self-preservation instinct brought each of us to where we are. It brought humanity here. It kept our ancestors alive and it will always be a part of us. But when left unexamined, it becomes the force behind overconsumption, political division, and environmental destruction. We work harder, accumulate more, and build thicker walls around ourselves, all in the name of safety and security. Yet, paradoxically, these actions often leave us feeling more anxious, disconnected, and fearful of the future.

My own story is a microcosm of this wider reality. For years, I let fear dictate my choices. I prioritised safety, preparation, and accumulation over connection, generosity, and trust. It took a confluence of losses and near losses and patient support for me to begin rewiring these patterns. I began to see that my defensive responses were not personal failings but ancient biological instincts trying to protect me. Gradually, I learned to pause, thank these instincts for their efforts, and choose responses aligned with my deeper values.

The science confirms what I’ve lived. Our stress responses are useful in real danger but harmful when triggered constantly by modern life. It drives chronic stress, anxiety, and reactivity, damaging our physical health and relationships.

This matters for Living More with Less because our project is ultimately about re-examining these instincts at a societal level. It’s about asking: what if we didn’t let fear drive us to overwork, overspend, overconsume, and overprotect? What if we trusted that having less might actually be okay? What if we looked beyond self-preservation to see that true safety lies not in accumulation, but in connection, generosity, and community?

I see signs of hope around me. Mental health awareness is growing. People are learning to recognise and regulate their nervous systems. Outside a few significant figures, our leaders, teachers, and parents are learning to model calm and safety rather than fear and control. COVID shutdowns brought a return of playfulness to adult life. While it has slipped a little since there was a surge in interest in games, dance, art, and song. Gratitude, minimalism, and simplicity are regaining value. More people are realising that we can live with less and find joy, meaning, and deeper purpose.

I’m a stubborn and at times self-assured person. If I can learn to pause and choose differently, perhaps others can too. And if enough of us make these shifts, toward calmer nervous systems, less reactive fear, and more conscious choices we can build families, communities, and societies grounded not in anxiety and scarcity, but in trust, sufficiency, and love.

This is what Living More with Less is about. It isn’t just a family adventure. It’s an invitation to transform our deepest instincts into the foundation of a more compassionate, resilient, and joyful world. A world where our self-preservation instinct remains, but is no longer in charge. Where we are guided instead by curiosity, connection, and care for all life.

This is a continuation of the instincts series. Go here for the introduction or use the instincts tag to see all related posts.