Emotional Triggers: The Trigger That Took Me Back to Childhood

Content note: family emotional abuse, childhood wound.

There’s this guy who really triggers the hell out of me.

He’s the kind of person who always needs to let you know he’s ahead. More experienced. More insightful. In authority. When I share something, he finds fault with it. When I offer input, he dismisses it.

He tries to keep me small.

I’ve known for a long time that this man affects me more than he should. When I interact with him, my whole nervous system responds, like fight or flight flicking on. There’s that familiar feeling of shadow boxing, of blind but futile rage, and then the aftertaste, rumination, replaying the conversation, imagining what I should have said.

What Happened

I’m part of a meditation group that means a great deal to me. It’s a sacred space where people show up with open hearts and support each other through this work of awakening.

This man isn’t part of our group. But recently, he got involved. And he convinced one of our members that he wasn’t good enough to stay, that he should step down.

And this dear person did.

The impact rippled through our whole group. There was hurt. Confusion. A sense that something precious had been interfered with by someone who had no right to interfere. Our group chat went quiet in shock.

When I found out this man was behind it, something in me broke open. All the old feelings came flooding up, anger, hurt, that hot, familiar “how dare you” energy.

I wanted to write him a message and tell him in no uncertain terms that he had no right, and basically make him see that he was an ass.

The Pull Toward Blame

I sat with those feelings for a while. And I noticed something.

There’s a comfort in blame, isn’t there? When I make it all about him, I don’t have to look at myself. I wanted to throw this huge tantrum that would finally force him to see me, hear me, and take me seriously.

Being a victim can feel good, because it comes with sympathy and solidarity. It’s very clear cut, I get to point at someone else and say, “There. He’s the problem. Not me.” And all my friends get to say, “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

And sometimes we need to rest there for a while. We get to be right, which can feel like safety.

But I’ve also learned, gently, over many years, that when I stay in that place, nothing changes. The same patterns keep finding me. The same kinds of people keep triggering me. And I keep being surprised, as if it has nothing to do with me.

The Wound Beneath the Wound

Here’s what I know about myself, and I share it with you tenderly because I suspect you might recognise something similar in your own story.

My father had strong narcissistic traits.

I spent my childhood learning to shrink, learning that my voice wasn’t welcome. I was told over and over I was “pathetic” and “stupid.” Because people like this need you to stay small. They need to be the most important person in the room. And if you’ve got something great going on, they experience it as a threat.

And I thought I’d healed this. I’ve done so much work over the years. But childhood wounds have layers, don’t they? You think you’ve reached the bottom, and then someone comes along and shows you there’s deeper still to go.

This man certainly isn’t my father. But he touches the same wound. Every time he dismisses me, every time he talks down to me, every time he makes sure I know he’s in authority and I’m not, it’s like he’s pressing directly on something that still festers.

And my whole system responds as if I’m six years old again, trying to survive in a house where I wasn’t allowed to exist fully.

Why am I so triggered? The Uncomfortable Truth

Here’s what I’ve come to understand, and I offer it gently because it’s not easy to hear.

Not everyone reacts to this man the way I do. Some people would find him mildly irritating and move on. Some people wouldn’t even register what he’s doing. Some people even like him and lean on his authority and insights.

And that’s how I know, even when I don’t want to know it, that this isn’t really about him. I’m triggered by someone, and that makes my reaction so much bigger that it’s out of proportion.

It’s about the wound he keeps poking his finger into.

He didn’t create that wound, but he keeps showing me it’s still there, still tender, still waiting to be healed.

This is one of the strangest things about emotional triggers. The present moment is real, and also, it’s not the whole story. A trigger can feel like a current insult, but it’s often a doorway into an older pain. Not because you’re weak. Not because you’re “too sensitive.” Because the nervous system remembers what the mind would rather forget.

The Harder Path

So I found myself at a crossroads, the same one I suspect you find yourself at too, at times.

One path is blame. It’s easier. It comes with the comfort of being right and the warmth of sympathy. But nothing changes. I stay wounded. He stays in my thoughts and keeps going round and round in my head. The pattern continues.

The other path is ownership. It’s harder. It asks me to turn inward when every part of me wants to turn outward. It asks me to feel the old pain instead of projecting it onto someone else.

First, we name what happened, then we grieve the impact, then, when we’re ready, we look inwards.

This is where healing lives.

Because here’s what I’ve learned from doing this work for so many years, when I take ownership of my reaction, I get my power back. If the problem is him, I’m helpless. I have to wait for him to change, which he may never do. But if I can work with my own response, my own wound, my own patterns, that’s mine. I can do something with that.

And when the wound starts to heal, the trigger loses its power. Sometimes the situation shifts in ways I couldn’t have predicted. And even when nothing external changes, I’m no longer caught in the same painful loop.

This is shadow work, not the internet version of it, but the real version, the quiet, honest version. The kind that doesn’t perform, it listens.

What I Did

I didn’t send the message.

My fingers hovered over the screen. I could feel the old urge to just react and lash out.

Instead, I sat with myself. I asked myself the questions I’ve learned to ask:

• What does this remind me of?
• What am I making this mean about me?
• What old story is being activated here?

The answers took me back to that little girl who learned she wasn’t allowed to take up space. Who learned she was pathetic and stupid.

This is the part people often don’t see from the outside. When you’re triggered, you’re not only reacting to what’s happening now, you’re also defending an inner child who is convinced it’s still unsafe to exist fully. That younger part doesn’t need a perfect argument. She needs safety.

I held her gently, that younger part of me, through the tears that now flowed. I told her she was allowed to exist fully now. That her voice matters. That she doesn’t have to shrink anymore.

It wasn’t like my whole life was now fixed forever. Shadow work isn’t a one-time event. But something softened. The charge around this man lessened. I felt love and warmth - for myself. And I realised the anger was keeping me from giving myself the understanding, the forgiveness, and the acceptance I needed.

This was about healing - for me.

I let that sink into my body. And I felt the comfort and strength that comes with that, not the brittle strength of “I’m right,” but the steady strength of “I’m here with myself.”

An Invitation

If you’re being triggered by someone in your life, I want to offer you this.

Your reaction is valid. Your feelings are real. And you’re allowed to rest in blame for as long as you need to. Sometimes naming the harm, and letting yourself be supported, is part of the process.

But when you’re ready, there’s another possibility. You can gently invite yourself to see what this particular person affects in you so deeply. You can turn the trigger into a doorway.

Not to let them off the hook. Not to excuse harmful behaviour. Not to try and force forgiveness for them. But to experience the healing you want for yourself. To take back the power that you gave away long ago.

This is shadow work. It’s not always easy. But it’s so worth it.

Even more than winning any argument. Trust me.

FAQ: Emotional Triggers, Old Wounds, and Big Reactions

Why do emotional triggers feel so intense?

Because emotional triggers often activate your nervous system, not just your thoughts. When something in the present resembles an older threat, especially from childhood wounds, your body can respond as if it’s happening again, even when you know, logically, that you’re safe.

Why am I only triggered by certain people?

Often it’s not the person, it’s the pattern. Someone who dismisses you, talks down to you, or acts superior can press on an old wound connected to being shamed, ignored, or made small. If you’re triggered by someone and your reaction feels out of proportion, that’s usually a sign something older is being activated.

How do I stop being triggered by someone?

You can’t always stop the trigger from happening, but you can change what happens next. Start by naming what happened, grieving the impact, then, when you’re ready, looking inwards. Ask what it reminds you of, what you’re making it mean about you, and what story is being activated. This is how emotional triggers become information instead of a life sentence.

What is inner child healing, and how does it relate to triggers?

Inner child healing is the process of meeting the younger parts of you th