Are You Triggered Yet?

This week’s Ritual Post is really long, It’s basically a 3,000 word essay. So my expectation that people will actually make it to the end is low. But that doesn’t matter, because I wrote this for me. To move through my own pain a little more fully. To document my healing and growth. To show myself how far I’ve come. 

If you make it to the end, I hope that this note speaks to you, brings you healing, or gives you space to be more understanding of the pain others carry with them.

I truly believe that whether or not you’ve taken the time to feel and process something emotionally can make all the difference in how you perceive it, and in how it impacts you. This is why healing is so important.

Last week, I had the opportunity to move through some really old stuff. I’m talking two-decades, plus. Things that shaped me in my formative years; things that have continued to shape me and how I present myself to this day.

I don’t know if I would have had the opportunity to face these things in such a positive way, were it not for the amazing community I have access to, and the support they provide me in my healing.

My awareness is expanding into some of my blind spots, and I now have a whole new level of clarity regarding certain aspects of myself and the walls I’ve put up. 

This is the magic of getting support in your healing journey. You’re granted a fuller picture of yourself and access to spaces you couldn’t see before. I think this is true for everyone.

But for me in particular, (because let’s not forget who this newsletter is about…) community seems to be a key element. Without community, I can only go so far. Thus, as my community expands, so too, does my capacity for healing.

Guys…

The younger versions of me have been hurt by people, a lot. 

Now, let me be clear. I’m not here to label anybody as the bad guy; and I’m not here to play the victim game. I’m just saying something that is true for me and through my experience. Just trying to point out the foundation of some of the pain that I’ve needed to heal. 

So I’ll say it again. The younger versions of me have been hurt by people, a lot. I have felt my heart crumble in response to the words and actions of some of my closest friends, again and again. And I’m going to share some instances with you here, but let me begin by sharing how it has impacted me…

I am scared to just be myself – to let myself be me. 

This isn’t earth-shattering, and I don’t think I’m alone in this fear. It also isn’t news to me. I’ve known for a long time, but only on a certain level. Last week brought me a much fuller awareness and understanding of just how deep this fear really goes, and how big of a role it plays in my life.

Of course, there’s always been a part of me that has known and understood all the ways in which I hold myself back or suppress my own energy. However, there is an equal but opposite side of me that has been blind to this truth for at least 2 decades. 

There have been times when I questioned myself about this fear. Why do I feel like I can’t express myself fully around others? Why am I so scared to be seen? Why do I have a hard time letting people get close to me?

It’s something I’ve truly tried to work on, over and over. But I haven’t been able to make major breakthroughs because of the pieces that have lived in my blind spots.

I’ve even thought that maybe this struggle is just part of my reality because of my 12th house sun; and while I do think that’s part of it, I also know that it’s not the whole truth. (If you don’t know what that means, that’s okay. It’s not really important).

But, over the last year, the expansion of my community has helped me experience uncensored moments of my truth – blissful and carefree moments of feeling like Joyful & Authentic Me. As a result, I have become aware of just how self-suppressed I’ve truly been and why.

So it’s not really that I’m afraid to just let myself be me. What I’m actually afraid of is triggering other people by simply existing. Because this is something I have done over and over, and at no fault of my own. People trigger people sometimes. That’s just part of life. Especially when so many of us are walking around with unfelt, unprocessed and unreleased emotional pain – primed and ready to be triggered.

This is not the beginning, but this is where I’m choosing to start…

When I was eleven years old, I made friends with a girl who was severely traumatized. Of course, I had no idea, and we became fast friends (not that I would have avoided her had I known about her trauma. I was eleven).

Over 8 years of friendship, this girl got angry with me again and again. She would go from telling me I was the best friend in the world to telling me I was a terrible friend or that I had betrayed her. Sometimes she wouldn’t even tell me that; she would just stop talking to me all together, ignore me, pretend I didn’t exist.

And during these moments, I would rack my brain for what I had done wrong. I would recount every step and every action I had taken since the last time we’d spoken. I would cry heavy, sorrowful tears. I would retreat into myself, and cradle my pain alone. 

When other people noticed – my friends, my mom, my sisters – I would talk to them about it. They would listen and every single one of them would tell me she was crazy. It didn’t matter, though, because I knew her better than they did.

And no matter how mad she got — sometimes a day, sometimes a week, sometimes a month later — she would always forgive me. She was merciful.

Most of the time, I had no idea what I had done wrong. She wouldn’t tell me. And once she’d forgiven me, she wouldn’t even acknowledge that she had ever been angry. It was as if it had never happened. 

One time, in the 10th grade, I do know that it was because another friend and I accidentally got directed into the wrong section of the gym for a pep-rally. Embarrassingly enough, we were put with the freshmen instead of the other sophomores. 

My friend was convinced that we’d chosen to sit with the freshmen on purpose to avoid sitting with her, and no matter how hard I tried to explain, it didn’t matter. Obviously, in my moments of confusion and distress about being put in the wrong section, I should have been thinking about how she would feel about sitting by herself with the rest of our classmates. (I had triggered her). So naturally, I was dead to her

During that particular instance, she went a whole month without speaking to me. Within a week, she was already speaking to our other friend again, but not to me.

Still, every time she decided to forgive me and act as if nothing had happened, I would just accept it and lovingly welcome her back into my life – no matter how many times I’d promised myself, this was the last time. I was always just glad that she had forgiven me and we could go back to being friends.

Through this experience of repetitive trauma that I exposed myself to by continuing the friendship and allowing myself to be treated this way (again, this started when I was eleven), I learned to believe that I was somehow responsible for other people’s feelings. I learned to believe that I could make people angry with me simply by existing, by not living up to standards that I didn’t understand, and by not being who they needed me to be. I learned to believe that there is something inherently wrong and bad about the way that I just am. That no matter what the truth is, other people’s perceptions matter more than mine, and therefore, are the reality.

Side note: this is actually a pattern in my life, and I’ve had this experience with more than one person, and, more recently than I would like to admit.

So, I learned to alter how I behave — to become as small and unassuming as possible. To follow the rules as best I could, even if I didn’t always know what they were. To this day, at the back of my mind, I’m always worried about breaking some sort of unspoken rules.

When I was a kid, I had a big, silly personality. I still do. I just don’t always show it. Mostly, it stays safely tucked away inside my brain.

But let’s talk about it…

Did you ever play dress up as a kid? Dress up was one of my favorite games, and every time I adorned myself with the perfect outfit to play whatever character I wanted to play, I truly became that character. Or rather, I became a version of me that was most like that character.

I have always felt most connected to the Joyful & Authentic version of Me when I have found clothing that makes me FEEL like Joyful & Authentic Me. Clothing that helps me embody the essence of who I am. When I get dressed with even just one piece of clothing that connects me to my essence – clothing that feels like a piece of art capable of expressing the depth of who I am and how I feel –  that is when my most joyful and authentic self comes out.

This has always been true, but for a long time, I have felt disconnected from this part of myself. This is because, as I have done my best to avoid triggering other people at all costs, I have naturally avoided any kind of clothing that unearths this magic within me.

I never stopped loving dress up, but I had to stop playing a long time ago.

Picture a teenaged version of me, THRIVING in my own personal game of dress up. I had just purchased a pair of shoes that made me feel fully connected to Joyful & Authentic Me. I pranced around school like a proud little pony. I was playful, I was magical, I was glowing with whimsy… all the way up until lunch time, when my very best friend – my past-life love and my once favorite person in the world – made the decision to shut me down. (This is not the same friend mentioned in the stories above).

“You are such a little poser,” she said, her voice sing-songy, her head shaking. She didn’t say it to me quietly. She said it in front of everyone. Embarrassment burned through my entire body. And worst of all, she was smiling. Not in a playful or teasing sort of way. It was the way she smiled when she knew she was beating me at something. When she knew she was winning. 

I will never forget the sinking feeling that overtook my entire body. The shock waves that frayed my nervous system. The deep emotional pain that collected around my heart like thick, sticky sap, before crystallizing and fossilizing in a life-altering way.

And the worst part is, I believed her. Because, why else would she say it? Expressing myself joyfully while wearing my new shoes – shoes that were not typically associated with people who express themselves joyful, I suppose – must have meant I was being a poser.

Now I don’t know why this friend really decided to say that. Maybe she did think I was acting like a poser. Or maybe she was in some way triggered by my behavior. Maybe it made her jealous to see me so freely being me in front of all our friends. Or maybe it embarrassed her.

In any case, this was just another experience that shaped my perception about who I was and wasn’t “allowed to be.”

So for years, Joyful & Authentic Me has been safely tucked away, encased in the solid embrace of the rock-hard sap wrapped around my heart.

In truth, this trauma runs really deep. And I have been working to heal it for a long time. Not long ago, sharing these experiences would have felt too raw and painful, like the act of doing so might be enough to shatter me. It would be like revealing a truth about myself that I try to hide – that I am actually a really bad friend. That I am nothing but a disappointment. That I am not capable of meeting people’s expectations. That I am not worthy of friends who love me for who I am rather than what I do for them. That how I choose to exist is wrong.

Then, last week, I had a breakthrough. And through my community — my friends — I had the kind of support I really needed to see things more clearly, move through my trauma more fully, and heal just the slightest bit more.

The hard work of healing from these experiences has required feeling my own pain and crying thick, sticky tears that originate from the crystalized core of my fossilized heart. 

It has required journaling, thinking out loud, and writing letters that were never meant to be sent. Learning to love myself wholeheartedly, regardless of what anyone else thinks. To put myself first, even when I know someone else’s behavior may be driven by their own pain. Taking big, bold steps towards the things that scare me and excite me at the same time. Learning to trust people again, to let down the walls I’ve built up around myself, and open myself up to authentic connection. Sharing my pain with others and creating community around the version of myself that I want to be. Exploring my personal style and how I express myself through fashion. Forgiving the people who have hurt me. And most importantly, building relationships with people who don’t just accept me for who and how I am, but who truly celebrate my Joyful & Authentic Me.

I know that my experiences do not come with one person who is a bad guy or one person who is a victim. That my own perception of these experiences is my reality, while other people’s perceptions are theirs. I know that my actions may indeed have really hurt people, because I may have triggered them. But I am not responsible for other people’s triggers. I am not responsible for other people’s feelings. I am only responsible for my own.

I know from experience that each time I get triggered, it’s just another opportunity for me to heal. And the same is true for the poeple that I trigger in return.

Over the years, keeping myself small and holding people at arm’s length has felt safe. But it has also been damaging to my mental health, my perception of self, and my overall experience with life.

I have a big, beautiful personality, and I’m learning to recognize that not only is it safe for me to be my Joyful & Authentic Self, but it is totally okay. I am allowed; even if I trigger people sometimes.

But just because I can, doesn’t mean I always have to, or even want to. How, and when, and with whom I share my Joyful & Authentic Self is my decision. It is my gift to give.

xoxo,