What Therapy Can Learn From Terminator II

I know, it’s every therapist’s go-to…

Eve Parmiter
5 min readMar 29, 2017

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A recurring theme in stories is non-humans lamenting their non-humanness to humans who are lamenting it. Gods, robots, spirits, all trying to get us to appreciate what we have.

In Terminator II, you’d be inclined to say it was good ol’ Arnie with his line to John “I know now why you cry, but it’s something I can never do”. But the T-1000 has something to teach us as well.

Our minds love to repeat what they think has worked for us before. Over and over and over. Because it’s easier than rethinking and adapting. That requires 1) energy, and we’re built for conserving energy, 2) being open to being wrong, which makes us feel vulnerable, and 3) dealing with change, which might mean more energy and more vulnerability, all of which can seem like a decrease in safety, which increases our warning signals. Better the devil you know…

Of course, when a habit’s useful, this inclination to repeat is great. It can make us more aware, productive, grateful, successful, happy, focused, etc, etc. It etches paths in our minds, skills that are more easily accessed and expressed physically, verbally, emotionally, mentally. It helps create our map of the world and establishes our confidence and familiarity with how we operate in it.

Great.

But not so great when those habits are based on faulty perceptions. Or that standard of ‘success’ that our minds have of ‘Not dead? Great! We’ve won! We’ll do that again!’ when what you and I might consciously like is a little more than just getting to the end of the day alive. Most of us are lucky enough to be operating beyond this metric on most days.

And because we do like to use what we think’s worked for us before, even, or especially, when in a new situation that is really confronting us, we can be slow to adapt. Just like the T-1000.

Hang on now, couldn’t he immediately morph into anything he touched like a lethal shiny ultimate chameleon?

Yeah. Almost.

At the end of the film, before Arnie martyrs himself, the T-1000 ends up in the molten metal, and what does he do? He doesn’t automatically melt. He goes through all his previous incarnations, all the personas he’s adopted, all the strategies that worked for him in the past. And he has nothing that works. His habit of functioning is now maladaptive. And because he can’t adapt, he dies. The ultimate weapon, ultimately defenseless.

Back to humans

I was speaking with a friend who’s out doing courage-requiring human things, and we reflected that in trying to find her feet in a new and challenging situation her mind got her to try on previous strategies. (And by strategies I mean where you go, what you do, what you think you’re capable of, what you believe and value about yourself and the world, and ultimately who you think you are in this moment, and the bigger/deeper reasons why you’re doing what you’re doing).

In trying to adapt to her new situation, my friend went through: unstable eating, drinking, smoking, exercising, and relating to men. All strategies that had paid off in the past by seemingly solving whatever problem that was present at that time.

I can immediately think of three go to strategies that part of my mind wants to use, and the more evolved parts of my mind absolutely do not want to go anywhere near. Their familiarity feels comforting, crushing, and deadening.

Interestingly, when you do, think, or feel a thing, or find yourself in a certain environment, your mind takes that as evidence for that being ‘true’ — ‘Oh this thing happened so I’m the sort of person who does x, and that must mean y and z are also true’. (Our minds love to do a bit of meaning-making, aka ‘if — then’ / ‘and this means that’: “Oh! I actually got myself to the gym when I thought I wasn’t going to go, that must mean I’m stronger willed than I thought and if that’s true then maybe I can actually make the progress I want to make!”)

After running through those old strategies and not getting the results or sense of identity she wanted, she and her sufficiently skillful self-awareness made some changes and grew in, through, and out the other side of that situation. She found new, more positive strategies, and better fits for her situation.

Back to machines

In contrast, T-1000 couldn’t adapt to his new environment because he could only try past successful strategies. The original T-800 couldn’t adapt to his environment because he couldn’t access future successful strategies (“… it’s something I can never do”).

So we’re left with humanness: John and Sarah. Not just vulnerable. Not just resilient. But anti-fragile. Being anti-fragile means that a stressor makes you stronger because of how you respond to it. Like our muscles: when we exercise the muscle fibers get broken down, then when we rest they adapt and get stronger — if we do it properly — they are not just resilient to but grow from the stressor.

We can make this true of other aspects of ourselves as well. And this is part of what therapists mean by ‘ILOC’ — having an internal locus of control. We can get fitter and fitter for humanness in the situations we find or choose to place ourselves in. And this in itself can become a habit. Thank you, neuroplasticity et al.

So what about you?

Have a think: what are your go-to strategies that are working for you and against you, in situations you’re familiar with, and in any new situations you find or place yourself in?

Where do you find yourself saying “Ah, I wish I wouldn’t keep doing that!” or “I’m so pleased I do this now!”

If you find that you’re in a rut with less than helpful responses then remember, we have the luxury of this mechanism:

Stimulus — [gap] — response

And in that gap is possibility. Your choice. You can create and place more useful perceptions, meanings, and habits in there, and this can change your life, moment to moment.

And if you want some help doing that then of course I’m going to recommend you find a therapist or coach you trust and feel good working with to make the experience of your life as brilliant as you can make it.

“ ‘The future’s not set. There’s no fate but what we make for ourselves.’ She intends to change the future.”

Yeah, she does.

See you there.

From the film’s Wikipedia page

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Eve Parmiter

Therapist — Master Practitioner. Writer. Speaker.