Compartmentalization in Trees

I learned something this week I thought interesting enough to share.

Trees have a survival process called compartmentalization. Unlike human skin that regenerates when wounded, a tree doesn’t have the regenerative means to mend wounds or vulnerabilities. What a tree does instead is builds walls (CODIT). The walls form horizontally, vertically, and laterally, so as to encase the wound and keep the inevitable infection from spreading to the whole system.

Tree wounds are attractive to microorganisms like fungi and to insects carrying bacteria. When pathogens enter a tree wound, a fight to the finish ensues. The microorganisms push for survival by multiplication and the tree reacts by producing chemicals and new structure to isolate the infected area. Which wins depends on how rapidly compartmentalization happens, given to factors like the age and health of the tree, the amount of energy available to the tree to launch its defense. Basically, the tree’s ability to defend itself, its response time to microorganism attack, is its key to survival.

When I did my research on CODIT, a few times over I read phrases like, “Trees are not like humans. Trees don’t heal from injury.” And of course, I thought about the ways I compartmentalize just like a tree. When we’re injured psychologically and don’t have the means of defense, or the sense to escape, we’ll block that wound with walls. The injury remains but is disconnected from the sense of self that operates in the everyday world. Too much compartmentalizing leads to fragmentation.

In Chapter 8 of the BRB, Becoming Your Own Loving Parent, starting on page 309 are a collection of experiences on the relationship between a loving parent and inner children. In one story I found this line: That may have been a trauma I could not cope with and compartmentalized…

Turns out, humans are like trees when they experience an overwhelming psychological injury. This is why certain years and their potential lessons are inaccessible. This is a normal reaction to overwhelming injury.

“Our survival traits include people-pleasing, addictiveness, hypervigilance, and stuffing our feelings to avoid conflict or arguments.” (BRB, p. 209)

Following abusive dynamics, people become the danger we fear. Other people may come to represent safe harbor as in our community of recovery, but relying on other people is not a long-term strategy. For meaningful healing to occur, the BRB states two themes necessary: self-differentiation and integration. This might happen in tandem, but we learn to become our own person by separating from the system which bred the dysfunction. In a dysfunctional system everyone has a role to play (see the Laundry List Workbook, Appendices A and E). Given that most social systems are not black and white, all healthy or all ill, total physical separation from what wounds us might be impossible. However, emotionally and psychologically we can gain independence (p. 85). And, we can learn to integrate the compartmented parts by becoming a safe person capable of welcoming memories and feelings with kindness and compassion (see Integration, p. 256).

I’d like to close with this thought: repeated trauma means we adapt to survive by freezing or fawning, fleeing if we still have any energy. Ongoing stress is energy depleting. If you’ve ever felt worn down by certain persons or circumstances, you’re at a biological disadvantage for successful recovery. We need to fight entropy. According to the ACA Schematic, we need our fight response to kick in. With a healthy fight response, we can set boundaries in our minds and hearts while still remaining open and receptive to what nourishes us.

Hope you’re well today. Thanks for reading.