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The Goal Isn’t to Never Be Triggered

7 days ago
6 min read

At the start of this series, I called it What to Do When You’re Triggered.


This blog post is a part of my What to Do When You’re Triggered series. Sign up for future reflections in your inbox and get free access to Beyond Blame — a workshop on transforming conflict into connection. 
This blog post is a part of my What to Do When You’re Triggered series. Sign up for future reflections in your inbox and get free access to Beyond Blame — a workshop on transforming conflict into connection. 

Perhaps that title carried a little bit of hope that somewhere along the way there might be a final answer. A way to stop getting triggered. A way to stop arguing. A way to finally become the kind of person who can stay calm and conscious no matter what someone else says or does. Like the image we paint in our minds when we think of a stoic monk.


I hear this hope all the time in my work.


When I ask a new client what they would most like to get out of working together, they often say something like:


“I just want us to stop arguing.”


Or:


“I want to stop getting triggered.”


And I really understand that longing.


But if there is one thing writing this series has reminded me of yet again, it is just how human being triggered is, and how incredibly easy it can be to get lost inside the response that is trying to protect us.


Our bodies and nervous systems are constantly taking in information about what feels safe, unsafe, painful, familiar, threatening or important.


Sometimes a trigger is telling us something about what is happening right now.

Sometimes it carries an echo of something much older.


Often it is a mixture of both.

So I hope you are not too disappointed that I don’t have a final, magic antidote to offer at the end of this series.


If anything, the invitation to myself and you is almost the opposite.


Keep being triggered. Keep being human.

But perhaps become a little more curious about what happens next and each time develop a practiced awareness of the choices you have around how you can react.


So what can progress actually look like?



If progress is not about never getting triggered or never arguing with the people we love, then what does it look like?


I’m genuinely curious about this, especially if you have been following this series from the beginning.


Have you noticed anything changing in the way you show up before, during or after a trigger?


For me, writing this series has been a powerful reminder that the earlier I catch the signs, the more choice I have.


There are still moments when I feel the pull to get my story in.


To defend my corner.

To make sure my side is understood.

To keep explaining because I am convinced that if I can just say it in the right way, the other person will finally understand me.


And sometimes, if I’m honest, there is that very human urge to have my words be the ones that are heard last.


What I have been noticing more is that I don’t always have to follow that pull.

Just because someone is saying something I don’t like does not mean I have to meet them inside the story and fall into the co-created trap of spiralling together.

Sometimes I can catch it earlier.


Sometimes I can notice:

We are both getting pulled somewhere that is not helping either of us.


And sometimes the most useful thing me to do  is simply to say:


This doesn’t feel like a good moment for us to have this conversation.

Then create some space.


Regulate.

Come back later when there is more capacity to actually hear each other.

That does not always happen neatly. I still forget. I still get pulled in.

But I notice the pattern sooner than I used to.


And for me, that matters.


Remembering that there is more than one way



One of the Marshal Rosenbergs teachings I have returned to again and again throughout this series (and my life) is the idea of letting go of our favourite strategy or way to meet our needs.


When I become very attached to one particular way that I think my need has to be met, I can feel trapped incredibly quickly.


For example:

You need to say this. OR that means you do not care for me

You need to understand this. OR that means you are not listening

You need to respond in this particular way. So that I know you sharing responsibility for our communication


And if that exact response or action doesn’t happen, it can feel as though there is nowhere else to go.


But there are rarely only one or two ways of meeting a need.


Remembering that again and again and again is incredibly freeing for me, each time I re-learn this principle it feels like a weight has been lifted. When I am stuck in  “my way or the highway” I feel increasingly frustrated, annoyed, hurt and alone.


This does not mean giving up on what matters to me at all.

For me it is an opportunity to become more creative, fluid and flexible about how I care for what matters, opening the door to many wonderful solutions instead of the only 1 thing you are not doing which leaves me feeling desperate.


Sometimes that means making a different request.


Sometimes it means meeting a need somewhere else, with someone else.

Sometimes it means giving myself something I was desperately trying to get from the other person.


Sometimes it means recognising that what I am asking for simply may not be available in that relationship.


And sometimes it means making a difficult choice, and ending a connection or holding a new boundary or a refocusing of my attention.


For me, this is one of the places where I feel the difference between reacting from a trigger and responding with a little more freedom and choice.


Not because I am suddenly calm or unaffected.


But because I have more than one option to ensure my deepest needs and desires are met by life.


This work can not aim for perfection



I think one of the dangers of writing about communication and relationships is that it can accidentally sound as though there is some enlightened destination we are all supposed to arrive at, or that I may have arrived at.


A place where we become self-aware enough, regulated enough, compassionate enough, that conflict stops happening.


That has not been my experience at all, sometimes painfully so. If it has for you please email me and tell me what has worked for you? I genuinely would love to learn from your experiences!


Writing this series has actually reminded me that this work is much more cyclical than that.


I remember.

I practise.

I  forget.

I get pulled into something painful yet again.

I catch myself.

I repair.

I learn something.


And then, at some point, I forget again. And become re inspired to learn again, sometimes through the same avenues, sometimes through new ones.


That does not mean the work is not working. That I am not changing or growing..

For me, the question has become less:


“Did I get triggered?”

and more:

“What happened next?”


Did I notice what was happening?

Did I have even a tiny bit more choice?

Did I take responsibility for what was mine?

Did I stay connected to what mattered to me?

Did I manage not to reduce the other person entirely to the story I had created about them?

Did I know when to pause?

Could I come back?

Could I repair when I stimulated hurt in you?

And could I stay connected enough to myself to recognise when something genuinely was not okay for me?


That feels like a much more realistic measure of growth.


What I hope this series leaves you with


If I could leave you with one thing at the end of this series, it would probably be this:


The goal is not to never lose connection. It is to become more able to find your way back.


Back to yourself.

Back to your body.

Back to what you actually need.

Back to curiosity.

Back to the humanity of the person in front of you.


And sometimes back to yourself strongly enough to say:

No.

This does not work for me.

Something needs to change.


Writing this series has been a process of re-remembering these things for myself too.


I think that is partly why I wanted to write this series in the first place.

Not to offer a perfect formula.


But to keep returning to the question:


How do we stay more connected to ourselves and to one another when something difficult happens between us?


If you have been following this series, I would genuinely love to hear what your own journey has been.


What has stayed with you?

What have you noticed changing, if anything?

What are you still struggling with?

And what questions are you carrying now about relationships, conflict or communication?


I would feel honoured to hear them.

Perhaps that is the most honest way to end this series.


Not with a final answer.

But with an invitation to keep noticing what happens next.




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