Trigger

I’ve always hated the term “trigger”, as in “emotional trigger,” for some reason. Maybe because I didn’t want to have any. I didn’t want to feel like I was at the mercy of a stimulus, like I was weaker than some event or object or circumstance that is otherwise pretty inconsequential and powerless. Triggers make me feel powerless, which sucks because I actually have tons of triggers now. I think the idea behind triggers is that they act as a shovel, digging up old pain from your childhood, or whatever. But I’ve had tons of new pain take root.

I just faced down a big trigger. Did I say “faced down?” I meant “basically was destroyed by.” It was ugly and lying and evil, but pretended to be caring and nurturing. And it brought back all my nightmares, all of the things that I try to push to the back of my mind. It feigned love and concern, but my, what big teeth it had. It felt like a thousand tiny shards of glass that stuck to me for hours.

It made me recognize that things are very wrong, even though I try to pretend they’re getting better. My life, my plans, my hopes and dreams. Not all of them are wrong. Some are still very well intact, but a lot are completely destroyed. Gregg was a big part of me and of all I hoped for. Without him, my trajectory is miles away from where it was. And this trigger reminded me of all of that, all at once, without giving me a chance to prepare for the weight of it.

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