“…Inconsequential things occur. Alarms are triggered. Memories stir. It’s not the way it has to be…” Darkness (2002) Written & recorded by: Peter Gabriel
The following is really for my own therapy. Do you type away to find some relief somewhere deep inside? It’s probably more common than I imagine. Really, I’m not sure if any inspiration can be gleaned from the below. Maybe I’m wrong.
Humanity dictates that we must be surprised by certain sudden events, words, and actions. There’s no mistake when we, sometimes out of the blue, look back and discover we have tripwires that have developed from our own personal history. I am so grateful for the benign tripwires from innocent, wonderful, and good benchmarks from my past. When those triggers are tripped, and I am flooded with memories delivered, it brightens my day. In fact, I find myself smiling a lot more often in its aftermath. Then, there are the inevitable triggers I would rather avoid altogether. Those are of a unique brand, hidden like armed mines in the underbrush of my rocky, scarred past. When the trigger is tripped, I can be swallowed up in its snare.
You know the kind I speak of. You never see it coming. Am I right? You’re walking along the path of your day when suddenly…SNAP & BOOM!
As Elvis sang, “I’m caught in a trap. I can’t walk out…”
I’m sure if you are a psychologist, you could tell me how this happens. You very well might be able to tell me how to disarm these triggers, these mines. You might even explain to me why I become trapped for many days in that same uncomfortable position, unable to shake it off. Nevertheless, I soak in it. Are you that way, too?
See if this rings a bell of familiarity. The trigger can be a word said, a certain look on someone’s face, a song, a movie, a photo, or a specific action. Whether it flickers in a deja vu method, or it hits like a sweeping tsunami, it has the strength to wash you back to a past event you’ve been running from. Pain happens. Emotional injury takes place in an instant. An injury for some, unfortunately even fatal for others.
Sure, there’s counseling for this. I’m sure I need it.
I must be extremely careful with the following. Names and details will be omitted because of the very personal nature.
A few days ago, one of my triggers was tripped. Honesty suggests to me there is no way to blame the actor who walked into my scene and leveled a sincere, hurtful, and harmful line. In fact, if there’s blame to be placed, I am the guilty one for not speaking up first concerning the very sensitive ground about to be tread. Yep, that’s right. I had some warning it was coming, but I thought I was strong enough to stand. So in an indirect way, I opened the gate myself. The act occurred, words were spoken, and I was slain. To the onlooker, if there had been one, the event would’ve seemed rather innocent. However, for me, the act, the words, the laughter rushed me back to a traumatic event in my life from March 4, 2014. I could even give you the time of day when the personal earthquake shattered my world. True trauma can cause time stamps in the noggin. The event this week didn’t take much, as I was already broken. It’s a brokenness Humpty Dumpty could identify with. The act didn’t take even a day, an afternoon, or the length of a production of Les Miserables. Yet, it was 90 minutes of hell for me. The burns remain as I type this sentence.
I hate triggers. Maybe I should say, I hate the bad memories, the old wounds that can be ripped opened by them. Triggers are usually small, but the mechanism attached above the trigger, forces movements of gears and springs. Not unlike the chime of a vintage clock. Keep in mind, for a trigger to be tripped at all, it takes outside force against it. This is important to note. When these components are in motion, it releases the hammer, or striker, colliding with the firing pin, causing a detonation of a waiting ballistic shell in the chamber. The result is an explosion of energy. Such an ignition, moves, or pierces, anything in its projected path. In my case, I was greatly displaced emotionally, heart pierced.
Okay, enough said. Frankly, I am still reeling from the recent occurrence.
Please understand, I am all for healing. Healing happens. I just wish it would happen quicker than the norm. Simply put, I like relief. How about you? I like resolution. I like calm seas. More importantly, my faith must remain strong in order to add the balm needed for this injury. I’m not saying it’s easy to do. In fact, if it were easy, we would all be living in a utopia where all things are new and pain-free. Although I know it to be my future, I am not there yet. If a true, lasting faith were without struggle, then what use is it?
The faith I exercise is based on Jesus, the Redeemer, the promised Messiah. Scripture says he was familiar with sorrow and grief. Literally speaking, it means he experienced sorrow and grief, like you and I do. Understanding sorrow and grief is NOT enough. Experiencing sorrow and grief allows one to have compassion for another who is stricken by the same. There, in the mystery of faith, the darkened stained glass of faith, the fogginess of faith, is my resting place when crap happens.
So, for now, I TEMPORARILY wrestle in the wake of springs sprung.
Remembering the shackles have been unlocked is part of fuel for the race.
“Through many dangers, toils, and snares, I have already come; ‘Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far, and grace will lead me home.” Amazing Grace (1779) Written by: John Newton