You may get triggered easily because something small today resembles something older, and the reply that belonged to the older moment answers first. The person in front of you then gets a reaction shaped years earlier. That's common and human. If your reactions come with panic, flashbacks or fear for your safety, talk to a doctor or a professional first.
The cookery class in Al Satwa is on its sauces week, and Briseida's beurre blanc is, by her own standards, fine.
The chef works his way down the steel counter with a teaspoon, tasting. At the station beside hers he says, "Good. More salt." At hers he tastes, pauses, and says, "Hmm. Brave."
Something in Briseida sets like plaster.
"It's how I like it," she says. It comes out sharper than she meant, sharp enough that the woman at the next station looks up from her pan.
The chef only nods and moves on. Briseida spends the next twenty minutes chopping shallots with great force and composing a reply she'll never give: something about the recipe, something about her palate, something about people who say "brave" when they mean wrong.
In the car afterwards she turns it over. He said one word. He may even have meant it kindly. And she can't, for the life of her, explain why it landed so hard.
Why do I get triggered so easily?
Often because something small in the present matches something older closely enough that an older reply answers it. A tone, a word, a look can be enough. The reply that comes out was shaped for another time, so it's bigger than the moment, and whoever is standing in front of you receives it.
Some reactions call for more than an article. If yours arrive with panic attacks, flashbacks or nightmares, if you avoid places or people because of how you might feel, or if your temper has put anyone at risk, you included, make an appointment with a doctor or a mental health professional before anything else. If you're in crisis, contact your local emergency services. I don't offer therapy or medical care, and neither does this page. Anyone already in treatment should carry on with their doctor or therapist.
There's one more exception, and it matters most. If someone in your life frightens you, threatens you or tries to control you, the reaction you feel around them is accurate. It isn't a trigger to work on. Please contact a domestic abuse service or support line where you live, and if you're in danger now, call your local emergency services.
What is a trigger, in plain words?
Here's my own reading of it. A trigger is a present moment carrying an older postmark. The letter is delivered today and opened today, but the reply it calls for was written long ago, and it goes out before anyone has read the date on the stamp.
"Brave" was a word spoken in a cookery class on a weeknight. Whatever it touched in Briseida was older than the class. Nobody needs to know exactly where her reply was first drafted, and she doesn't either. What's visible is the size of it: a full defence of her palate, for a spoon of sauce.
So the present person, a chef with a teaspoon, gets the old reply. That's the whole shape of it, and it's why a trigger so often feels out of proportion afterwards. It was in proportion to something. Just not to that.
From another side entirely, the Who Am I? masterclass turns from what happens to you towards whoever it happens to. Enter GIFT26 at checkout and it costs nothing. Its final layer is a guided session of about twenty minutes. If you've ever felt unreal or cut off from yourself, or you're being treated for that, ask your doctor before doing that part, or leave it out; and you can stop it at any moment, open your eyes, feel the floor and call someone you trust. Receive the Masterclass. Or read on.
Why do small things set off big reactions?
Because matching is fast and measuring is slow. The part of you that recognises a tone works in a fraction of a second. The part that asks "how big is this, really?" takes longer, and by then the reply has usually gone out.
Most old replies were sensible where they began. A quick defence, a cool silence, a cutting joke: each probably protected something once, and each got used again because it worked. After enough years it's ready before the moment has finished, and it doesn't check whether this room is the room it was made for.
Some triggers press on a sentence you've held about yourself for a long time, and what are core beliefs looks at sentences like that. For the moment itself, the minute when the reply is already forming, how to respond instead of react has a small tool worth keeping.
Does getting triggered mean something is wrong with me?
No. Being stung by small things is part of being a person, and a reaction that comes from somewhere older is nothing to be ashamed of. You are not broken. You are buried. The reply that fires so fast was laid over you later, and you're still there underneath it.
That doesn't mean every reaction is an old one. Sometimes the chef really is rude, and saying so is fair. The ones worth a second look are those that leave you puzzled afterwards, out of all proportion to what happened, and hard to explain even to yourself.
How can you measure a moment against its reply?
A short written exercise follows, and it has limits. It's everyday reflection, not therapy or medical care, and any doctor or therapist you see stays in charge of your care. Nothing in it means giving up treatment, medication or support, and if you're in recovery, keep your programme and the people who walk it with you. Leave out anything involving drinking, drugs, hurting yourself, or anyone who frightens or harms you; those belong with a doctor, a support line or someone you trust. Keep partners and family out of it too. Choose from strangers, colleagues, neighbours, shop counters and queues.
You'll need a pen, a page and about ten minutes.
- Pick one small moment from the past week. Someone at work, at a counter or in a queue said or did something, and your reply was bigger than you'd have liked.
- Write down what they said or did, as close to the words as you can. Just that line, in quotation marks.
- Underneath, write what you said or did back. The words, the tone, the silence, whatever it was.
- Beside each one, draw a short line to show its size. One line for how big the moment was, one for how big the reply was. Rough is fine.
- Look at the two lines, and leave it there. If they match, that's fine. If the reply's line is longer, notice that, and don't go looking for why.
If the moment you picked turns out to hurt more than you expected, put the pen down and stop. Talk it over with someone you trust or your doctor, as much or as little as you like. If you're in crisis, contact your local emergency services.
Two lines of different lengths are information, and nothing more.
Who tends to get the most from the Who Am I? masterclass?
The masterclass is worth your time if these three hold.
- Doubt doesn't put you off. Among the things the page says you'll discover is how even doubts such as "am I really getting this?" point to what you're looking for.
- You're ready to look inward. The page is written for someone "ready to look inward, for real this time."
- The guided part is safe for you today. If you've ever felt detached or unreal, or you're in treatment for it, talk to your doctor first or skip that layer, and stop whenever you like.
The page sums the format up in three words: "Written + narrated + felt". That means something to read, a video of me talking it through, and a guided session at the end, ninety minutes in all. Its price on the page is USD 297, and GIFT26 at checkout brings that to zero.
Small moments have taught me more than most speeches.
Rayyan's words, left on Amazon under my book: "If self-improvement has stopped working for you, this explains why."
Robert Simic, guiding the remembering.
P.S. The guided session at the end runs about twenty minutes, so it suits a calmer evening than the one that stung. Receive the Masterclass