What It’s Like When My Triggered Self Takes Over
The past has an inconvenient way of demanding my attention
For the second time in 2024, I showed up for pre-arranged plans but the people I was supposed to be meeting didn’t show. I asked the hostess about our reservation and found out it had been canceled — six days earlier.
I checked emails and texts to see if I’d missed anything. No, I hadn’t. Apparently, no one bothered to tell me lunch was off.
As you may expect, I was angry, although I figured out the circumstances and dynamics in play. I’m closer to one member of the group than the others, and that individual was very sick this week. She’d rescheduled due to her illness, but in her compromised state, forgot to let me know.
All of the members of the group have since apologized, and I understand there was no malice intended, it was simply an oversight.
Unfortunately, a similar thing happened last month when I was meeting a friend for a catch-up lunch. I gave her a decent grace period, then finally texted to ask where she was, only to find out she was home, oblivious, having completely forgotten.
She apologized profusely and whipped over at the speed of light. We had a good time despite the glitch.
In the aftermath of these two events, I’m left with conflicted feelings. My mature adult self understands that we all make mistakes, life is busy, and sometimes everyone needs a little grace. This version of me has responded to the apologies with kindness and made a mental note to confirm plans the night before.
But there’s another part of me that reacted very differently. The unhealed child within me glowered, aching to take low blows and cause as much guilt as possible.
No one wants to be overlooked, let alone twice in a short period. But for me, it’s a hairpin trigger because, throughout my childhood and teenage years, my needs were continuously sublimated to two desperately needy family members.
As the youngest in an unhealthy household, I spent my formative years trying to make up for my mother’s terrible childhood, with no understanding that this wasn’t my job. I absorbed her barely suppressed rage, assuaged her insecurities, and did whatever I could to make her feel better about herself. Meanwhile, she gave me the minimum begrudging care required to make her seem like a doting mother to the outside world.
It doesn’t take an advanced psychiatric degree to predict the effect that had.
Compliant and eager to please, I spent my young adulthood doing the most for people who cared the least. At one point a “friend” complained no one had done anything for her birthday at a celebration dinner I planned and paid for, hand-made card in tow.
That was around the time I tripped at the office because I was so exhausted from the workload and my boss mocked me for being uncoordinated as he walked away.
Developing enough self-respect to stand up for myself has been a long and hard-won process involving extensive research, painfully delving into my history to better understand family patterns, and terrifying myself by setting lines and boundaries, certain anyone in my orbit would walk away if I wasn’t a complete pushover. Self-advocating has taken years, and it’s something that still takes a lot out of me.
So it’s not a surprise that these events happening so close to each other sent me into a tailspin. While my adult self understands they were accidents, my primal lizard brain boomerangs back to a time when I was overlooked on much more important occasions, the forgotten, unwanted, inconvenient child.
It feels like home, in the worst possible way.
Suddenly I am mentally back at a point where my needs mean nothing to anyone. But instead of just taking it like I used to, I fight. My head becomes a war zone. Whatever the real situation is, in my mind I’m fighting to make uncaring people understand, getting increasingly frustrated and upset until I finally blow a fuse, screaming obscenities until I feel weak and dizzy.
Outside I may look mildly flustered while inside I’m an emotional wreck.
At this stage in my life, I have the comfort of recognizing what my reaction is and where it stems from. There was a time when I didn’t understand these patterns and why I reacted so viscerally to certain treatment. The loss of my “right mind,” the ceding to my triggered self, was terrifying.
Now I know exactly what I’m going through. I can almost visualize the two parts of myself, the rational and the irrational, battling for control.
Generally, my emotions are well-regulated. I cry easily if I’m happy or I’m affected by someone’s plight, but I’m not one to get unduly angry or upset. I wait before I discuss questionable behavior with someone to ensure I can do it calmly and productively.
But these triggered moments are different. Everything I’ve learned about productive communication abandons me. I react without thinking it through.
When the second event occurred, I stood there trying to harness my wild thoughts and quell the stinging anger and hurt rising in my gut. I watched people pass me by with unseeing eyes while my extremities tingled.
I abandoned my own rule and called the person who should’ve told me the get-together was off, but thankfully she was unavailable so I couldn’t speak to her right away. Whatever I’d have said in that moment wouldn’t have been productive.
I don’t remember the 45 minutes it took to get home because I was so shocked and preoccupied. My body was on autopilot while my thoughts raced. I remained in this state for hours. It was 3:30 pm when I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
By then I’d calmed down somewhat but not enough to stop myself from ordering a pizza. My reasonable self, who was resurfacing, made a case for eating something healthier from the fridge. But I was still sufficiently out of control that I couldn’t listen.
There’s nothing wrong with enjoying pizza but I try to avoid using food as an emotional regulator. I want to indulge when I can enjoy it, not to quell whatever’s going on inside.
Three slices later, I was regaining control. The anger had crested and I was feeling tired and resigned. I could feel my parasympathetic nervous system kicking in, slowly restoring calm.
During this time I’d been able to keep myself from texting the relevant parties by leaving my phone out of my immediate reach.
When I retrieved it, I saw my friend had realized her mistake and tried to reach me in various ways. She gave me a heartfelt apology, which further helped to bring me back to present-day reality. You see, no one is neglecting you. Accidents happen.
I finally allowed myself to respond, and I’m happy to say I was able to accept the apology while still allowing that I was upset and would need time to process. I did it productively instead of overreacting. She was understanding.
With my mind slowing down, I was able to do some mini-meditations, closing my eyes and focusing on the immediate — what I was hearing and feeling in that moment.
This helped to refocus my train of thought, and by the time I went to bed, I was feeling much more like myself, albeit a little defeated and sad. It’s frustrating when something so insignificant in the larger scheme of things can overcome my peace of mind so completely.
Although triggers like this happen less and less frequently, I doubt I will ever fully shake them. It's disappointing — I’ve done so much work, come so far, and turned my life around in so many ways. Days like that feel like a setback. I don’t want to succumb to this spiral anymore.
Overall, I’m happy when I consider the positive changes I’ve made. I live a good life, have healthy self-esteem, enjoy strong relationships, and have more or less forgiven my mother. It’s a drastic shift from my 20s.
It’s only natural that deep wounds leave scars. I can’t see them on a day-to-day basis and it gives me the false sense that I’ve completely moved beyond my difficult upbringing. But there will always be inadvertent reminders, and those triggers will inevitably be set off.
It’s disappointing to know I can never truly leave the past behind, But at least now, when it resurfaces, I have the comfort of knowing my present-day self will eventually regain control.