When I was twelve years old I was given a shotgun for Christmas.
It is a single shot twenty gauge Winchester.
When I pull the trigger, the response is almost instantaneous.
When I pull the trigger, there’s no going back.
There is very loud sound.
There are smells.
There is smoke.
The gun explodes backward into my shoulder.
The shot blasts out of the muzzle.
It is a brief, dangerous and violent process.
When people discuss emotional triggers, it makes me think about how actual triggers work in reality. I do not think that trigger is a very good term.
Let’s start with the etymology of ‘trigger’
"device by means of which a catch or spring is released and a mechanism set in action," 1650s, earlier tricker (1620s), from Dutch trekker "trigger," from trekken "to pull" (see trek). Tricker was the usual form in English until c. 1750. Trigger-finger "forefinger as used to pull the trigger of a gun" is attested by 1814. Trigger-happy "ready to shoot (or otherwise react violently) on the slightest provocation" is attested from 1942.
How can a living adult in the world justify being ‘triggered’? People, though impulsive and emotional, are not ‘a mechanism set in action’.
If we are responding automatically to being pulled or tripped, we might want to consider the version of the word from the 1620’s - ‘Tricker’. We’ve been tricked into thinking that triggers are more dangerous than they are.
People are not guns.
People do not have ‘triggers’.
Discussion around triggers is essentially irresponsible.
Avoiding triggers is either a way for people to avoid a feeling or sensation - typically shame, rage, powerlessness or sadness.
Or
It’s a way that people asking “don’t trigger me” as the world to help them avoid a feeling or sensation like shame, rage, powerlessness or sadness.
I get it.
Memories or things that bring up feelings we don’t like can be pretty shitty. And they are an echo, a report of the original incident, not a fiery ball of shot bursting from the barrel of a gun.
These echos, these reports, brings people a reminder of their original injury. And the danger has passed.
Remarkable fools deal with triggers differently
The way to deal with triggers?
Find support.
Figure out how you sooth yourself after they are pulled.
Then find ways to get triggered and recover.
Get better at the recovery.
Practice getting triggered and recovering.
With awareness, seek out ‘triggering’ situations and circumstances. Explore what else is there beyond the fire and the furry.
Or live like a common fool, convinced that you are merely a mechanical process, afraid of it’s own noise.
It’s like the old saying goes:
If you want to fight crime, wear Batman underpants
"Figure out how you sooth yourself after they are pulled.
Then find ways to get triggered and recover."
I agree, the current use of the word always felt weird to me. Triggering feels more like a slap in the face or a punch on the gut for me. "Slap. Remember when this was your truth? Slap."
I am sure we've all had these moments. My reactions have varied. The most successful reactions involved my following the slap with the reminder that I am now safe; opening the door to the event's emotion and letting it wash over me. Crying is a thing; sometimes tears, sometimes shaking sobs. It isn't a one and done experience. Slap, rinse (in tears), repeat. I've noticed that the triggered feeling is a sign I am ready to heal, to have a safe experience of the emotion. Before the triggering, I was just tight and eventually through repetition, also fearful when the triggering would happen; typically not acknowledging that the real life event happened. Just experiencing the fear, the sensation of not breathing, the physical memory of fear or anger, but no connection or processing of the emotional memory is now what I can recognize as Step 1 to healing.
"Find ways to get triggered and recover." Yes, triggering is an indicator that we have unprocessed emotions. Muscle memory is a thing. It is normal for unprocessed emotions to be physical. During my first couple karate classes as a 40 something, we were instructed on making the ready to fight sound, pronounced (kee-i). I remember it coming out of me politely. When prompted to try again, ith force from the diaphragm, I turned away and tried again. It was loud and powerful and I shook with sobs and cried, quickly sucking those sounds back in. WTF? Sobs? I had never screamed before that. Always polite, even when harmed. I was finding my voice in the least expected place. Most of my processing of emotions happened since that experience. I think this is what started to open me up. The fact that this was physical training doesn't surprise me now.