I’ve had several
conversations with a friend recently about getting triggered what choices we
have in that moment. Those conversations and last week’s post about disarming
triggers inspired me to further examine what happens in me when I’m triggered.
In each
interaction I have with a trigger, one of three things occurs:
1. The
trigger maintains its charge.
If I stick
to my pattern and react the same way, the next time that trigger is tripped it
will have the same charge.
2. The
triggers charge is increased.
If the
situation that set off the trigger is also highly charged and I react the same
way, I give the trigger more fuel. The next time it comes up the trigger will
carry the momentum of the most recent encounter in addition to its original charge.
3. The
triggers charge is lessened.
Each time I
am able to respond rather than react, I take a bit of the charge away from the
trigger.
When I’m triggered
I can either react, respond or do nothing. Whether or not to react is a choice,
even though it may not feel like one. If I react, I default to my old pattern.
Once I’ve chosen to react, what happens next is largely unconscious because
I’ve surrendered my power to the trigger.
Responding
requires a more conscious choice to do whatever I can to stay out of my old
pattern and act differently. Reacting and responding to a trigger can look very
similar. Moving from reaction to response takes time and some trial and error.
Until the new response to becomes solidified as part of me, it usually looks
like a variant of my old reaction. I’m not completely repeating the same pattern,
but the new response is still coming from the same emotional charge. Even if
the response looks similar to my old reaction, I feel different in the moment
because I’m more aware of what’s going on.
Doing nothing when
I’m triggered is both challenging and ripe with opportunity. The sheer force of
the trigger pushes me to do something right now. When I’m able to let that
almost instinctual push to “do something” pass, more choices open up.
If I’m in the
process of moving from reaction to response, doing nothing is very
uncomfortable. I often feel frozen between not wanting to repeat my old pattern
and not knowing what to do instead. If the trigger got tripped during an interaction
with another person, this still space is an opening for me to say “I need a
little time. Can I get back to you later?”
I don’t think
there’s ever a convenient time for a trigger to come up, but some situations
are better than others. If the catalyst for being triggered is a friend who I
trust, I can ask for help exploring what’s happening in the moment.
But what about the
times when I get triggered and, due to the circumstances, am not able to deal
with it as it’s happening? This most often comes up for me either in a session
with a client or when I’m supporting a friend in processing something.
Being triggered
by clients is inevitable. When a client shares her wounding with me and I have
a similar wound, I’ll probably get triggered to some degree. In that situation
my primary commitment is to be present for and with the client. It’s not okay
for me to take a break and deal with what’s coming up for me.
Taking a breath
and allowing the emotional charge to pass lets me shelve the trigger until I
have the space to look at it. Shelving a trigger or any emotionally charged
situation is not the same as repressing or ignoring it. Repressing or ignoring
is a largely unconscious choice. The decision happens in a millisecond. Before
I’m really aware of the trigger it gets pushed away into my shadow.
Like doing
nothing, shelving a trigger requires a conscious choice. What a trigger really
wants is my attention. Until I acknowledge it the emotional charge will keep
pestering me like a two-year-old trying to get his mother’s attention. Once I’ve
acknowledged the trigger I can take a breath, step aside and let it pass.
Stepping aside
means minimizing how engaged my mind gets with the story I’m carrying about the
trigger. Giving all my attention to the triggers story is another form of surrendering
my power to the trigger. Once the story has my attention it’s much harder to
allow it to move through me.
The motion of
stepping aside and allowing the trigger to pass me is akin to something I
learned taking tai chi in my twenties. My instruction was a woman of average
height and build. One of my fellow students was a muscular, six foot tall man.
My instructor was able to reliably put him face down on the mat.
She did this by
not resisting or countering the forces with which he attacked her. Rather than
trying to stop him or push back, my instructor turned to the side and used the man’s
own momentum to thrown him on the mat.
When I shelve a
trigger, I move into it rather than away from it. I use the triggers momentum
to let it move through me. Then it’s up to me to make time to look at what I’ve
shelved. If I chose not to that, shelving becomes stuffing.
I use the same
technique when I get triggered listening to a friend process. We’ve all
experienced saying something we didn’t entire mean or saying something in a
hurtful way when we’re angry or upset. When a friend is venting and says something
that triggers me doing nothing is usually the best option.
My primary commitment
in that moment is to be present for and with my friend. If I react or respond
to being triggered I derail my friend’s process by shifting the focus on to
what’s going on with me. Here again I can shelve the trigger and look at it
later.
Often I find by
the end of the conversation whatever tripped the trigger has been resolved. If
there is a leftover I need to address with my friend, I can do that after I’ve
looked at my trigger.
My triggers aren’t
ever going to go away. There are as much a part of me as my curly hair and my love
of drawing. Acceptance is essential. Before I can work lessening the charge of
a trigger or chose an option other than reacting, I have to accept that it’s
part of me.
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