It happened again. It was a moment that shouldnโt have been significant, but it left me reeling. Itโs strange how small interactions can stir up big feelingsโhow 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 meโfeelings of utter adoration and also infuriating anger. Iโve 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. Itโs 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 playfulโher 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 somethingโsomething that would wound me. It wasnโt 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 wasnโt prepared for it, mentally or emotionally, and that only amplified my reaction.
Afterward, I couldnโt stop thinking about why this simple touch triggered such a visceral response. I found myself pondering whether it was because of the physical abuses Iโve 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 didnโt feel worthy of her recognition? After all the time Iโve spent longing for connection with her, was my mind telling me I wasnโt 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 wasnโt to lean in, but to withdraw. My bodyโs reflexes betrayed the very thing I had been wanting all along.
I know it wasnโt her intention. Her playful gesture wasnโt meant to hurt me or send me spiraling. But thatโs the tricky thing about being triggeredโitโs not always about the other person. Itโs about how past experiences, unresolved emotions, and buried fears suddenly resurface, often in the least expected ways.
Iโve had a complicated history with her. Our interactions have been emotionally charged, filled with moments where Iโve felt both inspired and unseen. I admire her deeply, but Iโve also been left wanting moreโa closer connection, a mentor-mentee bond that just hasnโt come to fruition. And perhaps thatโs 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 respondedโhunched over, eyes down, wanting to disappearโwas my old defense mechanism. Itโs how Iโve reacted in the past when Iโve felt vulnerable, uncertain, or overwhelmed. But in that moment, it felt like I was slipping back into an old version of myself, one that Iโve been trying to outgrow.
Triggers have a way of reminding us of the things we still carry. Even though Iโve done so much work on myself, itโs moments like these that show me how much those old wounds still linger. The playful touch wasnโt just a touchโit was a reminder of the vulnerability I feel in this particular relationship. It brought up the fear that Iโm 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 shouldersโsomething that should have been light and casualโhad such a profound effect on me. It wasnโt just the physical touch; it was what it symbolized. It was a reminder of the emotional push and pull Iโve 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.
Iโm learning that being triggered isnโt a sign of weaknessโitโs a sign that thereโs still work to be done, still layers of healing that need to unfold. Itโs not about blaming the other person, but about understanding why certain interactions provoke such strong reactions in us. In this case, itโs 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 didnโt handle the moment perfectly. My instinct was to retreat, to protect myself. But Iโve also come to realize that healing doesnโt mean I wonโt get triggeredโit 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