Identifying Trauma Triggers See Me Sparkle

What are triggers anyway?

We’ve all become familiar with the term “trigger” as it relates to trauma and the distress that a triggering moment can cause. Yet identifying trauma triggers that affect us personally can be quite challenging. They can be as subtle as a smell, song, sight or sound, or as obvious as content that describes or portrays an event resembling specific trauma we have experienced.

The distress evoked by a trigger can vary greatly as well, likely dictated by the intensity of the trauma itself. We’re told we should be aware of our triggers so we can either avoid them altogether or prepare for them as adequately as possible.

This seems simple enough. So, as a person who has experienced her fair share of trauma, why is it so difficult to recognize my triggers?

The trigger response without trigger awareness.

I have had plenty of significant, trigger-type responses. These can range from depression that rises to the surface for days or weeks at a time to withdrawing and isolating from the world.

But I find that it is rare, if ever, that I am able to pinpoint anything specific that leads me into these tailspins. Oddly, I am able to calmly navigate seemingly obvious, triggering circumstances even when they come with a “trigger warning.” Yet when I find myself in a sleep coma for a full 24-hour period, I have no idea why.

The relevant incident.

A few days ago, I was driving my daughter to school and was approaching the entrance to the parking lot where the long car line for drop-offs awaited us. I stopped for a student who was about to cross the sidewalk that ran parallel to the driveway where I needed to turn in.

As the student began to walk by, the police officer who directs traffic at that spot each morning put up his hand in front of me, another indicator to stop and wait for the student to cross. Once the coast was clear, the officer waived a signal at me to proceed. I waved a friendly acknowledgment back to him and slowly began taking the right turn into the parking lot.

Before I realized what was happening, the officer was next to the window of my car pointing and clearly shouting at me. I rolled down my window to gain clarity as to what I had done wrong. It was quickly evident that his last hand signal was actually directing me to remain stopped so the cars waiting in the left turn lane could enter the lot first.

I apologized to him and quickly tried to explain that I had misunderstood his signal, but he had no interest in my reasoning. He continued yelling and concluded with, “You might as well just keep going now!”

The trauma trigger breakthrough.

I finished pulling into the lot and settled in my place in line. Desperately fighting back tears that emerged out of nowhere, I was completely distraught. The intense urge to sob was building in the back of my throat, but I was determined not to break down in front of my daughter.

I was doing everything possible to hide my overflowing tears. Embarrassment set in as I assessed what I perceived to be my emotional overreaction to the situation. I made a mistake – an honest mistake – but a mistake nonetheless. One that resulted in a harsh scolding by an officer who probably hadn’t had his morning coffee. I felt like I was five years old.

And then it hit me. I had just been triggered.

Something about that scenario sent me back to my childhood, where mistakes were not tolerated. When they did occur, the result was a fierce and frightening admonishment. This environment created such fear in me that I didn’t allow myself room to make mistakes. Perfectionism was the result, followed by self-inflicted disappointment and loathing when I would fail to achieve it.

In that moment, I WAS five years old again.

Awareness is key to identifying trauma triggers.

My daughter kept looking at me, then asked if I was crying. I knew if I spoke I wouldn’t be able to hold back the emotion. Before I had a chance to respond, she asked, “Is it your allergies?” I nodded to her while simultaneously recognizing that there was no reason for me to feel shame for my reaction.

Later that night we talked about what had happened and I gave an honest explanation that was suitable for a 10-year old. I wanted her to know that I have struggles like everyone else, and that moms are not always strong. We are human.

I feel a weird sort of pride at having identified my first, distinct trigger. While it’s not typically worthy of an award or celebration, for me, this speaks to the work I have done to heal from my trauma. Perhaps once we are able to begin facing and accepting our trauma, we are also able to develop an awareness of the things that can trigger us. We can then make a connection between the two and become skilled at identifying our triggers proactively.

Based on that logic, I am making progress. And THAT is worth celebrating.