It happened again. It was a moment that shouldnβt have been significant, but it left me reeling. Itβs strange how small interactions can stir up big feelingsβhow past experiences can unexpectedly flood your body, dragging you back to places you thought you had moved on from.
I recently found myself triggered by someone I both admire and, at times, struggle to navigate. She evokes strong feelings in meβfeelings of utter adoration and also infuriating anger. Iβve looked up to her as a mentor, hoping to forge a strong connection, but that connection never fully materialized the way I wanted it to. Itβs been a source of quiet frustration for me, a dynamic that feels both magnetic and out of reach.
The trigger this time was something small, seemingly playfulβher hands on my shoulders. A light touch, nothing more, but in that moment, it felt like so much more. The physicality of it, the suddenness, sent my body into overdrive. My shoulders rolled in, instinctively trying to protect myself. I avoided eye contact, my gaze falling to the ground, and all I could think about was getting away, running from the discomfort that flooded me. It was as if everything around me went dark, and I was completely consumed by the need to escape.
What made it worse was the fear that she was about to say somethingβsomething that would wound me. It wasnβt just the touch that caught me off guard; it was the possibility that whatever followed would be hurtful or dismissive. The entire thing felt so sudden, as if I had been blindsided. I wasnβt prepared for it, mentally or emotionally, and that only amplified my reaction.
Afterward, I couldnβt stop thinking about why this simple touch triggered such a visceral response. I found myself pondering whether it was because of the physical abuses Iβve endured in the past. Hands on the shoulders can be a dominant or even aggressive posture, and perhaps my body, remembering past harm, reacted in defense. Or was it something more subtle? Was it because, deep down, I didnβt feel worthy of her recognition? After all the time Iβve spent longing for connection with her, was my mind telling me I wasnβt deserving of this moment?
What struck me most was how strange it felt that, in this rare moment of connection, my mind and body responded in a way that was completely opposite to what my heart desires. After all the longing for closeness, my instinct wasnβt to lean in, but to withdraw. My bodyβs reflexes betrayed the very thing I had been wanting all along.
I know it wasnβt her intention. Her playful gesture wasnβt meant to hurt me or send me spiraling. But thatβs the tricky thing about being triggeredβitβs not always about the other person. Itβs about how past experiences, unresolved emotions, and buried fears suddenly resurface, often in the least expected ways.
Iβve had a complicated history with her. Our interactions have been emotionally charged, filled with moments where Iβve felt both inspired and unseen. I admire her deeply, but Iβve also been left wanting moreβa closer connection, a mentor-mentee bond that just hasnβt come to fruition. And perhaps thatβs part of why I reacted the way I did. In that brief moment of touch, all those feelings of closeness, distance, hope, and frustration seemed to collide.
The way my body respondedβhunched over, eyes down, wanting to disappearβwas my old defense mechanism. Itβs how Iβve reacted in the past when Iβve felt vulnerable, uncertain, or overwhelmed. But in that moment, it felt like I was slipping back into an old version of myself, one that Iβve been trying to outgrow.
Triggers have a way of reminding us of the things we still carry. Even though Iβve done so much work on myself, itβs moments like these that show me how much those old wounds still linger. The playful touch wasnβt just a touchβit was a reminder of the vulnerability I feel in this particular relationship. It brought up the fear that Iβm not good enough, not seen the way I want to be, and that my efforts to connect might always fall short.
Afterward, I reflected on the moment. I thought about why her hands on my shouldersβsomething that should have been light and casualβhad such a profound effect on me. It wasnβt just the physical touch; it was what it symbolized. It was a reminder of the emotional push and pull Iβve felt with her. The mentor I want so badly to connect with, but who feels just out of reach. The admiration and the frustration. The hope and the hurt.
Iβm learning that being triggered isnβt a sign of weaknessβitβs a sign that thereβs still work to be done, still layers of healing that need to unfold. Itβs not about blaming the other person, but about understanding why certain interactions provoke such strong reactions in us. In this case, itβs about recognizing that my response is tied to my own unmet expectations, my desire for closeness, and the vulnerability I feel when those desires go unfulfilled.
I didnβt handle the moment perfectly. My instinct was to retreat, to protect myself. But Iβve also come to realize that healing doesnβt mean I wonβt get triggeredβit means that each time, I learn a little more about myself and how to manage those moments of emotional overload.
The truth is, triggers are a reminder that we are still in progress. And while I may not always be able to prevent them, I can continue to face them, with compassion for myself and understanding of where they come from.
Tully XO