Tag: wisdom
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How Expectations Can Drive People Away and How to Let Go of Control
“I’m not in this world to live up to your expectations and you’re not in this world to live up to mine.” ~Friedrich Salomon Perls
About five years ago, I had a falling out with a close friend. I was irritated because she didn’t do the things I thought she should and she didn’t give as much as I did. I felt I had been very generous with her, and I expected her to do the same. I felt she owed me.
My anger became unmanageable and started seeping into pretty much every interaction we had. She began cancelling dinner plans and camping trips. She wouldn’t call me back after days of me leaving a message. It happened out of nowhere, and of course everything was her fault.
Except that it didn’t. And it wasn’t.
Not too long ago, I was a bit of a control freak. I didn’t know it, of course, and I would have described myself as open-minded and easy going. In reality, I was tormented by my own expectations.
Since I was a child, I had an image in my head about who I was supposed to be. What my family was supposed to look like. What house I was supposed to live in. What career success was supposed to mean. That’s a lot of supposing! I had always assumed these expectations were my future.
I am an artist by trade, and in my art studio, I have many tools. Paintbrushes, sanders, stencil cutters, and paper punches fill shelves up to the ceiling. However, I tell people that the most important tools I use are flexibility of mind and a practice of not having expectations as to the outcome. This allows new and amazing techniques to be discovered and yields paintings that continuously surprise and delight me. I find these tools are useful outside of the art studio as well.
As time went on and distance grew between me and my friend, I began to feel enraged by her apparent apathy toward me and everything that I “had done for her.”
I thought to myself, “I would never treat anyone that way. How dare she do that to me?” and “After all I’ve given her, she should want to give back!” Every thought I had praised me for all the good deeds I had done and blamed her for ruining our friendship. I was the victim and she was the wrong doer.
One day, I sat down to enlighten her about how she had negatively impacted our relationship. Her reaction was horrifying to me. She said she was going to take a step back from our friendship.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I mean, I was telling her how she could singlehandedly improve things. What was wrong with her that she didn’t understand that? We stopped speaking and I didn’t see her for a long time.
Then something life changing happened—sobriety. In the first year after I quit drinking, I learned a lot about myself and my need to control just about everything in order to meet my expectations.
I learned how my expectations of others (unexpressed, by the way, because “I shouldn’t have to say it!”) and the anger that followed when people didn’t act the way I thought they should, actually drove people away.
The entire time our friendship was breaking down, I thought that if she would just do the things I wanted her to do, not only would our friendship be fixed, but everyone involved would be better off. I knew better than she did. My way of living was better than hers. She, of course, ran away from me like I was on fire.
My need to control others was unfounded, unrealistic, and unattainable. It was a hard thing to admit that my way wasn’t better than her way and, in fact, people weren’t abandoning me. I was driving them to leave. I saw that other relationships in my life were also going down this path. I had to change.
One day after surfing, I went to sit on a bench overlooking the water. One of the “old guys” we surfed with, who lived across the street, came and talked with me as the sun was setting over the ocean and I was lamenting about the stresses in my life. He said one of the most important things anyone has ever said to me: “I don’t do stress. Stress is optional.”
WTF? How on earth does one not get stressed? Teach me, Oh Wise One. I thought deeply about this and about my issues with expectations and control. I needed control in order to meet my own expectations. When those expectations were not met, anxiety, anger and depression followed. Where does stress fit in?
The stress comes from trying to control actions that I think can bring my expectations to fruition. Have you ever seen the YouTube video of the zoo keeper trying to take a photo of all the baby pandas together? He expected a cute shot. All he got is a video of him trying to put baby pandas in a line, as one by one they continuously wandered off.
I know that’s kind of a cut and dry example, and life isn’t always cut and dry. However, the primary reason that I would get so pissed when my expectations were not met is rather simple: “My way is superior to everyone else’s way. How can people be so stupid and disrespectful?”
I don’t want to be an angry person. I don’t want to be unhappy with the people in my life. At some point, I realized that all of the control I was attempting to put on others was really me trying to make others meet my own expectations. That doesn’t work. Like ever. And it creates a huge amount of stress and frustration akin to trying keep baby pandas in line.
The real questions are: Who do I think I am? Why do I think I can control anything? What does it really matter if people are late, or my flight is cancelled, or my hat got lost when it flew off the top of the car.
Do these things affect my life? Sure, they can. Is it worth having an explosive hissy fit and making myself and everyone around me miserable? Uh, that would be a no. (Embarrassingly, the loss of that damn hat came close to ruining our evening.)
Advice from an Artist—Three Ways to Let Go:
1. Have zero expectations about how anything is going to turn out in the end.
It’s easier said than done, but if I went into the art studio expecting a certain painting to be created, I would be disappointed all the time. It’s so much easier to have an open mind and go with the flow.
This is also true when it comes to other people. By accepting the fact that people are not predictable, I am not attached to outcomes about how they “should” be.
2. Stop trying to control everything.
My passion is creating, but I can’t always get in the studio to paint. And guess what? I don’t pitch a fit. I simply do what needs to be done to continue on.
For whatever reason, this is easy for me to apply to my business, and harder to apply to situations that involve people. I have to peel my fingers from the white-knuckle grip they have on how people should be and be okay with the possibility of “my way” not being an option. Perhaps somebody else has an awesome way I’ve never even thought of.
3. Be flexible and don’t be attached to outcomes.
I choose to open my mind to all the possibilities. In the studio, experimentation and the ability to adjust comes very easily. In life, not so much. Last minute changes in dinner plans aren’t going to kill me. When someone is “inconveniencing” me by wanting to meet at 8:00 instead of 6:30 I don’t get pissed anymore. I go for a hike because now I have time to.
Does that sound too simple? I don’t think it is.
My old friend and I have begun to repair our friendship. She moved away and I miss her dearly. We have talked about the past, but not in great detail. I try to show her that my thinking has changed and I don’t want anything from her but her friendship. It’s a hard thing to repair when you live far away but it’s mending little by little.
I no longer expect her or anyone to think like me. When I start feeling superior, I have to remember that I’m no better and no worse than any other person on the planet. I hope she forgives her wayward friend. At the time, I really thought that I was doing her a favor by showing her a better way to live. It was hard to realize that my ego was running the show.
When I’m working on a painting and I make a mark that I didn’t intend to, I don’t look at it as a “mistake.” I look at it as an opportunity to go down a road I may not have seen had it not been for that out of place mark. This is how I strive to live my life now. When a monkey wrench is thrown in, I put it in my back pocket figuring that a wrench may come in handy at some point.
And if it doesn’t, that’s okay. Just as with my art, I choose to live open-minded to all experiences. Also, just like my paintings, life isn’t only made up of straight lines. There are twists, turns, and interruptions. The question I must ask myself is, do I want to put up a fight whenever something unexpected happens, or go with the flow and gracefully see where this new road leads?
We can’t control other people and situations. But we can choose to set expectations aside and not put so much emphasis on how things are going to end up. After all, it truly is about the journey. And the destination? Well, sometimes the most beautiful views are the ones that we stumble upon unexpectedly, while on the way to where we’re “supposed” to be.
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License to Hurt: What We Really Need When We’re in Pain
“We’ll light the candle together when she’s ready. For now I’ll trust the darkness for us both.” ~Terri St. Cloud
Over breakfast one morning recently, Jeff and I started reminiscing about past years, and something was said that brought back a painful memory for me. My boss at the time had been unimaginably small-minded. He had hung me out to dry. “I still can’t understand why he did that,” I said.
Jeff looked at me levelly. “You need to get over it, Jan,” he said. “It was years ago.”
Wise advice, without question. The only problem was that I didn’t want it just then.
Why is it that we are so seldom allowed a few moments just to hurt? After a serious heartbreak like the death of a loved one, sure, we’re given all the leeway we need. But the run-of-the-mill slights and small, persistent sorrows are treated as something we should quickly move past, even when they’re deeply painful.
Jeff, poor guy, was just trying to help. I couldn’t fault him. I knew I was being a bit ridiculous. But what I longed for was someone to acknowledge my outrage, let me sit with it, live into it for a few moments—and then gently remind me that it’s time to get over it.
A few hours later, after I’d licked my wounds and was feeling better, I began to wonder: Might I also be failing to honor the sorrows of others?
Everything I’ve learned in the past eight years, since the death of our son, has pointed me to the same lesson: The most important thing we can give each other in times of pain is compassion, a simple, “Oh, I bet that’s really hard.” We should offer that before—or instead of—advice on how to cope.
Even worse are the times when we immediately turn the conversation to ourselves: “I know just what you mean. I’m going through something like that too.”
I catch myself doing this way too often. My intent is to signal to the person that we’re partners in pain and can support each other. But the comment shifts the focus away from my companion’s heartache to mine.
Or we may inadvertently belittle our friend’s sorrow with stories of how we’ve overcome the same challenge.
Recently I overheard a conversation between two elderly women. One was talking about how emotionally wrenching she was finding it to give up her home and move to a retirement facility.
“Oh, you won’t miss it a bit once you get settled,” the other woman said.
She had already been through the experience and knew without question what lay ahead. I wanted to break in and hug the first woman. When we are in pain, the last thing we need is someone who knows without question what lies ahead.
Many of us find it deeply uncomfortable to be in the presence of suffering. And no wonder. We live in a culture where we’re taught from childhood to hide our hurts, to buck up and get over them. We don’t want to display them, and we don’t want to see them in others. Yet unspoken pain is all around us.
I’m talking here about a way of caring for each other that hews a fine line, because I in no way want to encourage my friends and loved ones to wallow in their sorrow. I want to honor it for what it is but never give it the power to rule my life.
It’s true that others may be able to benefit from what I’ve learned—but not immediately after suffering the same kind of hurt. And it’s entirely up to them whether or not they want to learn from me.
To show love for another in sorrow asks more of us than empathetic gestures. It asks us to try and understand exactly what the other is feeling, and even to risk getting a taste of that pain.
At a retreat in Maui in 2001, Ram Dass drew a clear distinction between empathy and compassion.
“Compassion for somebody else is that you are one with them and you hurt with them. That compassion comes out of the oneness of your heart, the oneness with all beings . . . ” He continued, “It’s not just empathy. It’s not one person feels empathy for another person. It’s got to be one person.”
How will I ever reach the point where I can feel as one with someone who’s hurting? In this I’m like a child learning to walk; I can only stumble and try again.
I’ve lived most of my life cultivating the image of myself as a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone’s help. Reid’s death showed me how wrong I was. My task now, I think, is to be present for others who are hurting, because I know what suffering means. This knowledge is a bittersweet gift that’s been given to me by life. I’m trying as hard as I can to use it.
I do not always succeed.
This is what I know for certain: I can’t tell others how to heal. All I can do is sit with them—and when they’re ready, help them light a candle to find their way out of the dark. Doing this kindly, without giving voice to how I think they should move forward, is a practice I will struggle to follow the rest of my life.
One last thing: A few weeks ago, when I had another setback with work, my dear Jeff came to me and enveloped me in a hug. He held me close, hurting with me. And only then, after several minutes, did he remind me that it wasn’t all that important—that in fact I had plenty of reasons to let it go.
I responded by giving him the biggest, longest kiss I’ve given him in years.
Photo by mhx
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Why I Forgave My Father and How It Set Me Free
“There is no love without forgiveness, and there is no forgiveness without love.” ~Bryant H. McGill
The day I chose to forgive was the day I became free
It happened on an ordinary weekday. It was just another ride on a crowded train. It’s been years since it happened, yet I can still recall the faintest details of that moment.
There they were, sitting directly across from me. She pulled out a small mirror and began to apply her lipstick. He playfully nudged her, causing her to mess up. She got mad. He laughed. She couldn’t help but smile despite her aggravation. She said, “Daaad, don’t do that.”
Before I knew what hit me, I felt warm streams of tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t control them, and there was no way to hide them. It’s as if years of suppressed pain came swarming up my spine and took over all my senses.
This was the day I realized I really missed a father figure in my life. The funny thing is, I did just fine for seventeen years of my childhood until this very moment. This moment was the straw on camel’s back to my bottled up emotions.
A dark part of me wishes I could tell you a tragic story of how my father passed away at a young age and how I never got to know him. That didn’t happen though. And I think it’s one of the very reasons it hurts so much.
My father was alive and well. Still is. He simply had different priorities and was not the kid loving type. You see, he was “there,” but he was never there for me.
I got to see him on weekends from time to time, but most of our “quality time” was spent with him taking care of his personal errands and me waiting in the car.
Many times he canceled plans at the last minute, and sometimes didn’t show up at all. On birthdays he made a quick appearance to drop off a gift and quickly took off to take care of other more important things.
Sometimes he’d call and ask for my older sister, and they would chat for a while as I patiently waited for my turn to talk to daddy. Most times my turn didn’t come. I watched in hopeless silence as my sister said “goodbye” and hung up the phone.
It stung a little extra the day I overheard my mother reminding him that he has another daughter and that he should ask to talk to me too. To me, he was a mystery. A tall, manly figure with gold chains and strong cologne.
I remember looking up at him from the corner of the room, hanging on every word that came out of his mouth. I’m not sure if it was fascination or intimidation that drove this curiosity. Probably a little bit of both.
He was the life of the party. He drove an Audi in a town where most people walked, me and my family included. I was a shy little girl who wanted nothing more than to be loved by her big and strong daddy. I didn’t understand why he didn’t seem to care.
So there I was, a seventeen-year-old girl on a morning train trying to wipe the tears without smearing my mascara. It was too late, mascara was everywhere. After this day, over the course of many years, I experienced a kaleidoscope of emotions. Mostly anger.
I hated him. I blamed him for not being there for me when I needed him most. Over the next few years I acknowledged a series of behaviors that were direct outcomes of my ”daddy issues.”
I was extremely insecure, which caused an enormous amount of jealousy that led to endless fights with my lovers. I sought out friendships with men, mostly because I needed their attention. I continuously victimized myself, and it was all his fault. I blamed that selfish, arrogant jerk who was too cool to hang with his little girl.
Years passed this way. I dwelled. The anger and sadness resonated inside me. Tears came to the surface at every darn daddy scene in the movies. I pretended Father’s Day didn’t exist. I felt bad for myself every chance I had. It was exhausting. I avoided his rare calls and slight attempts to “build” a relationship. “It’s too late,” I told myself.
This went on for years. So much of my time was wasted on accusation, pain suppression, and avoidance. “This is just the way things are,” I told myself. I didn’t think there was another way.
Some say time heals all wounds; others believe it’s up to us to heal them. In my case it was a little bit of both. On my long journey to recovery, I did a whole lot of soul searching and self-realization. I began to slowly and cautiously unravel the layers of hurt and blame.
I consciously and diligently started working on improving my confidence, and with the help of a steady and healthy relationship with a wonderful man, I started to learn that not all men were bad. More over, I began to understand that men, just like women, can be wonderful, caring, loving, and supporting beings that make this world a beautiful place.
As I dove deeper into studying the human psyche I learned that all of our behaviors are taught, and if there is no positive influence to teach us right from wrong, there is a big chance we can go astray from what is right. My father was no exception to this rule.
His father wasn’t nurturing or loving or any of the other things I wanted my father to be. He never learned those fatherly tendencies that I so desperately needed from him. While he certainly had an opportunity to change this pattern, as we all do, he didn’t, and for that I empathize with him.
I’m sorry he didn’t get to feel the love and admiration I felt for him. I’m sorry he wasn’t there to rejoice in my accomplishments. I’m sorry he wasn’t the one to show me how amazing a father’s love can be. I’m sorry he missed out on a life long connection with a caring and loving soul he himself created. I’m sorry he missed out on so much love.
Today, as I watch my incredible husband play with my son, my heart smiles. I cry happy tears that he will never feel the void that haunted me throughout my younger years. He won’t have to wonder why his daddy isn’t there, why he didn’t call, or when he’ll see him again.
The presence of his parents’ love will teach him that life is full of loving and caring people who come together to grow and foster unity in the safety of their loving home. He will know love the way he’ll know his name.
This part of my life taught me that while hardships are inevitable, the way we respond to them is up to us. For many years I chose to feel hurt instead of learning to forgive and looking for the light.
I chose to blame instead of seeking understanding. I felt anger instead of compassion. I chose to be a victim instead of becoming the victor. I sought happiness in others, not realizing that it has always been within me; I simply didn’t know where to look.
Today I wish my father well. I hope he lives out the rest of his days surrounded by peace, love, and kindness. The day I chose to forgive him was the day I set myself free.
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Failing Doesn’t Make You a Failure (and You Can Still Succeed)
“Remember that failure is an event, not a person.” ~Zig Ziglar
Take a second and imagine little you. running around like the little ragamuffin you were. Imagine as far back as you can—back when you were first able to comprehend feedback from parents, teachers, or whatever other authorities were around.
When considering the cause of low self-esteem, the most obvious answers fall under the umbrella of past abuses or failures: a parent who demanded straight A’s, an abusive spouse, etc. These are common forms of mistreatment that cause some people’s self-esteem to tank.
But for those who’ve lived fairly easy lives, while surrounded by reasonably supportive people, low self-esteem has no obvious root (I talked about my own experience with this here.) What’s worse is that having an issue we don’t understand can make us feel weak or defective because the problem seemingly has no cause.
So if you’ve suffered with low self-esteem, even if just occasionally or in certain situations, research is now pointing us in an interesting direction. There’s a surprising link that can help us out, and it has everything to do with effort.
How Low Self-Esteem Takes Shape
Are you one of those people who think Sigmund Freud is an absolute dunce? I don’t blame you. But he was right about something, and it’s that what happens to us during childhood shapes us—big time.
Researchers in the Netherlands discovered that parents who praise their children for innate qualities may actually do more harm than good. According to the study, parents should instead praise children for their hard work and effort.
So what’s the difference? It’s hardly possible to distinguish between a mom exclaiming, “Oh, you’re such a good reader!” and another who says, “Oh, you worked so hard on your reading assignment!” But this difference is significant.
Children who were praised for “being” something felt a strange pressure that children who were praised for their work didn’t feel: When they fail, they associate the failure with an innate quality instead of associating it with the amount or quality of work they did.
As you can imagine, associating your failures with innate flaws instead of just the quality of effort you put in can be damaging to a child’s impressionable self-image. And it can continue to wreak havoc on your adult self.
Suddenly “I didn’t study enough” becomes “I’m stupid,” or “I need more practice with painting” becomes “I’m a bad artist,” etc. The low value falls on the self, not on the action taken.
To put it another way, this kind of praise conditions us to think we are supposed to already be something without practice or trial and error. After falling short of this irrational standard a few times, self-esteem can drop quickly.
The researchers also found that parents were more likely to praise children with low self-esteem for their innate qualities, thinking it would help give them a needed boost. Whoops.
If you think this sounds like a bunch of BS, I can vouch for it personally.
For much of my life, I wouldn’t try anything that I felt I wasn’t “innately” good at. I was big on beginner’s luck and anything I knew how to do intuitively, without much effort. Everything else (especially when hand-eye coordination was involved) could suck it as far as I was concerned.
My parents were not major enforcers of hard work, so their praises were usually directed at innate qualities.
As I grew up, this subtle distinction wreaked havoc in many areas of my life. I would quit things at the first sign of trouble, becoming extremely discouraged, and sometimes even feeling ashamed at the slightest mistake.
Basically, how I behaved and my upbringing exemplified the above theory: I had no understanding of commitment and how it was the key to being talented in any area. Instead, I fearfully avoided anything that required practice and stuck to things I felt I had a “knack” for. I believed that what I did was who I was—for better or worse.
Separating Yourself From Your Effort
So ask yourself this: What is your relationship with hard work and effort? How about innate talent? How do you see yourself when moving toward a goal?
If you’ve had self-esteem issues in your life, you may be familiar with quitting or shying away from effort. Maybe you felt bad when you weren’t immediately good at a new task, thinking you just “didn’t have it in you.”
So you need to begin catching yourself in these thought patterns. A failure of any kind does not reflect that you are a failure. It is simply that your action failed to have the impact you wanted.
So begin to:
1. Consciously separate these two things in your mind. Each time you recognize this pattern, remind yourself that a failed attempt at something does not equate to a failed person.
2. Suspend negative self-talk and replace it with a more neutral belief. For example, if you intensely feel that you’ve failed at something, remind yourself that it is probably a common mistake and getting good at any task requires patience.
3. Truly begin to understand that failure is necessary for success in anything. View failures (as best you can) as learning opportunities that will propel you to the next stage.
The book The Talent Code: Greatness Isn’t Born. It’s Grown. Here’s How does a great job of debunking the “innate talent” myth. The author explains where talent and skill actually come from. (Spoiler alert: it’s practice)
“Every expert in every field is the result of around ten thousand hours of committed practice.” ~The Talent Code
Extraordinary innate talent is sort of a myth, perpetuated by meaningless phrases like “you either have it or you don’t!” Of course, it’s safe to say that we all have propensities for certain things, but that does not bar those who don’t from practicing and developing that skill too.
So the next time you hold yourself to unrealistic expectations, remember: You are not your effort.
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How to Identify Your Emotional Triggers and What to Do About Them
“Awareness is the birthplace of possibility. Everything you want to do, everything you want to be, starts here.” ~Deepak Chopra
Ever wonder why some people respond in the same destructive way over and over even though they keep getting the same bad results?
Many of us can relate to having unhealthy coping mechanisms and responses to things like stress, fear, or other agitating emotional states. Often, we are unaware of the subconscious processes going on and we may, for example, instinctively reach for an alcoholic beverage at the end of a long, hard day, never realizing we are setting ourselves for an addictive pattern that may one day claim our health, or possibly our life.
I know this was certainly my situation. But, I was unable or unconscious of how to get out of this pattern of behavior—until I learned to identify my emotional triggers and re-route my unhealthy habitual responses.
Addiction or other self-destructive behaviors or habits are learned responses to environmental and emotional triggers. You can un-learn these responses and create new ones, thus building a healthier way of engaging with the world, your emotional landscape, and your family and friends.
An example of one of my triggers is when someone downplays something I’ve achieved. One day I was talking to my husband about an accomplishment at work. His response? “Anyone could’ve done that.”
I felt dismissed and belittled, as if what I had accomplished didn’t mean anything and had no value. Any time I felt dismissed in this way, I used to lash out in angry ways. Or worse, I’d get myself a large glass of wine and then another, and another.
Was this a healthy or productive response? No. Did it resolve anything in a useful way? No. Was I in a position of power acting this way? No. In fact, I was allowing other forces and factors to control my behavior.
It wasn’t until I realized where this emotional trigger came from that I began to recognize my actions for what they were: a reaction rather than a calm and poised response.
I realized that I grew up with a perfectionist mother who would often criticize me if she didn’t feel like I was living up to her high standards. This often left me feeling devalued as a person, or “less than.” So, whenever I felt devalued, I lashed out in anger.
I suppose this is a natural defense mechanism. But it was harmful to me in many ways because I never really acknowledged my pain, nor did I ever address it in a healthy way. Instead, I would often turn this anger inward upon myself and, in order to numb the pain, drink it down.
This was an ongoing cycle for years and how I dealt with any kind of emotional pain: anger or sadness turned into inward hatred, and I drank to dull the pain.
When we don’t recognize our triggers and our unhealthy reactions to them, it can lead us down a long, tortuous path.
Part of my recovering from a debilitating substance abuse problem involved understanding how triggers work and also learning healthier ways of responding to them. This is why now when I feel dismissed or rejected, I give voice to those emotions. I open my mouth and say, “You know, that hurt my feelings because…”
I have found that by giving my pain a voice, I no longer have to turn it inward upon myself and suppress it with alcohol. This helps keep me sober to this day.
Let’s go over a few other emotional trigger examples:
- A person who felt ignored and dismissed growing up might start yelling whenever they feel they aren’t being heard.
- A person who had emotionally unavailable parents (or partners) may get insecure whenever someone isn’t there for them.
- A person who felt controlled in the past might get angry when they think they’re being told what to do.
- A person who felt helpless for years might panic when they’re in a situation over which they have no control.
Do any of these emotional triggers resonate with you? Ask yourself, “How do I handle it when this occurs?” Many of us turn to food, alcohol, or other substances to dull our pain when faced with unresolved anger or other emotions.
A trigger is simply a stimulus that evokes upsetting feelings, which may lead to problematic behaviors. We all have triggers, and we all have unhealthy ways in which we deal with them. But, we have the power to stop our automatic responses and re-route. The challenge is learning to identify our triggers and then recognizing them when they are happening.
“Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” ~Viktor E. Frankl
Often, our triggers are experiences, situations, or stressors that unconsciously remind us of past traumas or emotional upsets. They “re-trigger” traumas in the form of overwhelming feelings of sadness, anxiety, or panic.
The brain forms an association between the trigger and your response to it, so that every time that thing happens again, you do the same behavioral response to it. This is because what fires together, wires together.
This means when neurons fire in the brain, they wire together the situation, emotions, and responses that caused that firing of the neurons in the first place. Sensory memory can also be extremely powerful, and sensory experiences associated with a traumatic event may be linked in the memory, causing an emotional reaction even before a person realizes why he or she is upset.
Habit formation also plays a strong role in triggering. People tend to do the same things in the same way. For example, a person who smokes might always smoke while he or she is driving; therefore, driving could trigger an urge to smoke, often without the smoker’s conscious thought.
Because our responses to triggers usually occur at the subconscious level, and we are completely unaware of the firing and wiring we have created, we are doomed to repeat self-destructive behaviors until we identify our triggers.
Once we know our triggers and begin to recognize them when they happen, we can see them for what they are—over-reactions to a perceived threat. Then, we can learn to respond in ways that are more life affirming, useful, and healthy for us.
There are two different types of reactions to triggers:
Emotional
We get stuck in negative emotions such as anger, sadness, or anxiety and react in extremely emotional ways—getting violent, yelling and screaming, withdrawing completely, etc.
Physical
We crave certain substances (food, sugar, alcohol, drugs, etc.) This happens because the emotional pain triggers our habitual way of indulging in some kind of physical activity that we are using to suppress the emotion or dull the pain.
When it comes to physical reactions, it helps me to create space by doing something else, for example, taking a walk.
For emotional reactions, it helps me to clearly communicate my feelings. Mostly I had to learn to understand my emotions, acknowledge them, and then give them a voice.
Instead of unconsciously reacting to a trigger/stimulus, you can learn to consciously respond to them by doing what I call The Trigger and Response Exercise.
Start by taking a sheet a paper and creating three columns. Title them: Trigger, Current Reaction, and New Response.
In the Trigger column, write each one of your triggers. You can think of these as things that “push your buttons.”
In the Current Reaction column, list how you normally react when this button is pushed.
In the New Response column, write what you could do as a conscious response instead of your normal knee-jerk reaction.
Below are a few examples:
Example 1
Trigger: When I feel that my spouse dismisses my comments or feelings about something
Current Reaction: I get angry and yell at him.
New Response: I’ll tell him my feelings were hurt.
Example 2
Trigger: When I feel insecure about my body
Current Reaction: I eat a bag of cookies.
New Response: I’ll go for a walk around the block.
Example 3
Trigger: When I get overwhelmed and stressed
Current Reaction: I binge drink.
New Response: I’ll practice deep breathing.
Now that you’ve written your list of triggers and changed how you’ll respond, you’ve got to learn to make these responses your habitual way of being.
Keep this list handy and use it as a guide. You can add new ways to manage your triggers as they come to you.
Don’t get discouraged if you falter, as it takes time to learn new ways of being. Just keep practicing them, until over time, they become your new habits. In this way, you are powerful in that you consciously own and choose how you respond to people, situations, and circumstances. You aren’t blindly reacting anymore.
Life is full of triggers, know this. But, also know you have the choice and the power to respond to those triggers in ways that are healthy and achieve better outcomes. In this way, you transform your life for good.
