Ptsd Triggers Quotes

Callan stared at the door. Raw and razed and present. A crucial moment—when he wasn’t the one with his finger on the trigger.

Triggers are like little psychic explosions that crash through avoidance and bring the dissociated, avoided trauma suddenly, unexpectedly, back into consciousness.

Avoiding triggers is a symptom of PTSD, not a treatment for it.

Hiding my pain and acting strong, afraid to cry and show my tears, I struggle with all this years later.

Intimidated, old traumas triggered, and fearing for my safety, I did what I felt I needed to do.

Callan sucked in a breath. As a sniper, he’d been trained by the Marines to know and recognize moments.  Moments when all the training—his focused mind, muscle memory, weapon knowledge . . .  When all the preparation—target reconnaissance, angle of attack, position scouting . . .  When all the setup—hidden amid the terrain, barrel aimed, trajectory known . . .  When everything came together in one crucial moment—when the sniper squeezed the trigger and took his shot.

The traumatic moment becomes encoded in an abnormal form of memory, which breaks spontaneously into consciouness, both as flashbacks during waking states and as traumatic nightmares during sleep. Small, seemingly insignificant reminders can also evoke these memories, which often return with all the vividness and emotional force of the original event. Thus, even normally safe environments may come to feel dangerous, for the survivor can never be assured that she will not encounter some reminder of the trauma.

Fear and anxiety affect decision making in the direction of more caution and risk aversion... Traumatized individuals pay more attention to cues of threat than other experiences, and they interpret ambiguous stimuli and situations as threatening (Eyesenck, 1992), leading to more fear-driven decisions. In people with a dissociative disorder, certain parts are compelled to focus on the perception of danger. Living in trauma-time, these dissociative parts immediately perceive the present as being "just like" the past and "emergency" emotions such as fear, rage, or terror are immediately evoked, which compel impulsive decisions to engage in defensive behaviors (freeze, flight, fight, or collapse). When parts of you are triggered, more rational and grounded parts may be overwhelmed and unable to make effective decisions.

But unfortunately, I do not have one foundational trauma. I have thousands. So my anxious freak-outs are not, as the books say, "temporal." They don't only occur when I see an angry face or someone pulls a driver out of their golf bag. My freak-outs are more or less constant, a fixed state of being. That infinite plethora of triggers makes complex PTSD more difficult to heal from than traditional PTSD. And the way the books seem to think about it, our fixed state of being also makes us more problematic.

I am continuously struck by how frequently the various thought processes of the inner critic trigger overwhelming emotional flashbacks. This is because the PTSD-derived inner critic weds shame and self-hate about imperfection to fear of abandonment, and mercilessly drive the psyche with the entwined serpents of perfectionism and endangerment. Recovering individuals must learn to recognize, confront and disidentify from the many inner critic processes that tumble them back in emotional time to the awful feelings of overwhelming fear, self-hate, hopelessness and self-disgust that were part and parcel of their original childhood abandonment.

The detection of a person as safe or dangerous triggers neurobiologically determined pro-social or defensive behaviors. Even though we may not always be aware of danger on a cognitive level, on a neurophysiological level, our body has already started a sequence of neural processes that would facilitate adaptive defense behaviors such as fight, flight or freeze. 

The reason why you need emotional support is because it's important for survivors to be heard. To be understood. To be able to express yourself without fearing criticism or harsh judgement. To be validated for your pain, suffering, and loss. For others to be there for you to encourage you, especially if you're having a bad day or feeling triggered.

Trigger warnings are counter-therapeutic because they encourage avoidance of reminders of trauma, and avoidance maintains PTSD.

vital that people who have survived violence become habituated to ordinary cues and reminders woven into the fabric of daily life.31 Avoiding triggers is a symptom of PTSD, not a treatment for

Playing nice" comes naturally when our neuroception detects safety and promotes physiological states that support social behavior. However, pro-social behavior will not occur when our neuroception misreads the environmental cues and triggers physiological states that support defensive strategies. After all, "playing nice" is not appropriate or adaptive behavior in dangerous or life-threatening situations. In these situations, humans - like other mammals - react with more primitive neurobiological defense systems. To create relationships, humans must subdue these defensive reactions to engage, attach, and form lasting social bonds. Humans have adaptive neurobehavioral systems for both pro-social and defensive behaviors.

Complexly traumatized children need to be helped to engage their attention in pursuits that do not remind them of trauma-related triggers and that give them a sense of pleasure and mastery. Safety, predictability, and "fun" are essential for the establishment of the capacity to observe what is going on, put it into a larger context, and initiate physiological and motoric self-regulation.

Hyperarousal causes traumatized people to become easily distressed by unexpected stimuli. Their tendency to be triggered into reliving traumatic memories illustrates how their perceptions have become excessively focused on the involuntary search for the similarities between the present and their traumatic past. As a consequence, many neutral experiences become reinterpreted as being associated with the traumatic past.

Because of dissociation, many victims are able to remember the abuse only when a certain object, smell, color, scene, or experience triggers a sudden, severe reaction. During a flashback one seems to see, feel, hear, smell, or taste something from the past as if it were actually happening in the present. In a visual flashback, you actually see the scene of your abuse, or you may see an object or image that reminds you or is symbolic of your abuse.

The worst thing about having been traumatized with the look in childhood is that we can erroneously transfer and project our memory of it onto other people when we are triggered. We are especially prone to doing this with authority figures or people that resemble our parents, even when they are not sporting the look. Internal

Many freeze types unconsciously believe that people and danger are synonymous, and that safety lies in solitude. Outside of fantasy, many give up entirely on the possibility of love. The freeze response, also known as the camouflage response, often triggers the individual into hiding, isolating and eschewing human contact as much as possible. This type can be so frozen in retreat mode that it seems as if their starter button is stuck in the ‘off’ position. It is usually the most profoundly abandoned child - ‘the lost child’ - who is forced to ‘choose’ and habituate to the freeze response… Unable to successfully employ fight, flight or fawn responses, the freeze type’s defenses develop around classical dissociation.

Too often the survivor is seen by [himself or] herself and others as "nuts," "crazy," or "weird." Unless her responses are understood within the context of trauma. A traumatic stress reaction consists of *natural* emotions and behaviors in response to a catastrophe, its immediate aftermath, or memories of it. These reactions can occur anytime after the trauma, even decades later. The coping strategies that victims use can be understood only within the context of the abuse of a child. The importance of context was made very clear many years ago when I was visiting the home of a Holocaust survivor. The woman's home was within the city limits of a large metropolitan area. Every time a police or ambulance siren sounded, she became terrified and ran and hid in a closet or under the bed. To put yourself in a closet at the sound of a far-off siren is strange behavior indeed—outside of the context of possibly being sent to a death camp. Within that context, it makes perfect sense. Unless we as therapists have a good grasp of the context of trauma, we run the risk of misunderstanding the symptoms our clients present and, hence, responding inappropriately or in damaging ways.

Emotional flashbacks are sudden and often prolonged regressions to the overwhelming feeling-states of being an abused/abandoned child. These feeling states can include overwhelming fear, shame, alienation, rage, grief and depression. They also include unnecessary triggering of our fight/flight instincts.

For many survivors, authority figures are the ultimate triggers. I have known several survivors, who have never gotten so much as a parking ticket, who cringe in anxiety whenever they come across a policeman or a police car.

It might be possible that 'triggered' may not be the most helpful word ... For me, there is a felt sense of violence in this word, while 'touched and awakened' more accurately describes what happens to these sequestered neural nets. This gentler wording helps us cultivate a sense of meeting the experience every time we are so 'touched' with an appreciation for what it might be offering.

Freeze types sometimes have or appear to have Attention Deficit Disorder [ADD]. They often master the art of changing the internal channel whenever inner experience becomes uncomfortable. When they are especially traumatized or triggered, they may exhibit a schizoid-like detachment from ordinary reality.

In my personal recovery, mindfulness has helped me to become aware of my trauma responses and given me an anchor to stay present when I have been triggered. Being able to feel my triggers without reacting must be largely credited to learning to anchor myself in my body through mindful body scan meditation.

A child's (or an adult's) nervous system may detect danger or a threat to life when the child enters a new environment or meets a strange person. Cognitively, there is no reason for them to be frightened. But often, even if they understand this, their bodies betray them. Sometimes this betrayal is private; only they are aware that their hearts are beating fast and contracting with such force that they start to sway. For others, the responses are more overt. They may tremble. Their faces may flush, or perspiration may pour from their hands and forehead. Still others may become pale and dizzy and feel precipitously faint.

Maybe PTSD really is triggered by a single incident, a stressor, as it's known in the psychiatric community, and maybe the attack at Al-Waleed was that stressor for me, but as I have learned in the intervening years, I was not damaged by that moment alone. In fact, while there are specific memories that resurface with some frequency, like the suicide bomber in Sinjar or the order riot at Al-Waleed, I find myself most traumatized by the overall experience of being in a combat zone like Iraq, where you are always surrounded by war but rarely aware of when or how violence will arrive. Like so many of my fellow veterans, I understand now how that it is the daily adrenaline rush of a war without front lines or uniforms, rather than the infrequent bursts of bloody violence, that ultimately damages the modern warrior's mind.

Many psychologists use the term existential to describe the fact that all human beings are subject to painful events. These are the normal recurring afflictions that everyone suffers from time to time. Horrible world events, difficult choices, illnesses and periodic feelings go abject loneliness are common examples of existential pain. Existential calamities can be especially triggering for survivors, because we typically have so much family-of-origin calamity for them to trigger us into reliving.

When I'm triggered, I think, "This will last forever" or "What if this lasts forever?" I get thoughts about how I should give up, run away, hide, protect myself. These thoughts, I cannot change. What I can change is how I respond to them. Will I unconditionally believe these ideas, or will I accept them as side effects of the temporary experience of pain? Will I act on each thought that arises in the burning fire, or will I hold myself gently and say, "It'll be okay. I know it hurts. I love you"? My power lies in these choices.

Avoiding triggers is a symptom of PTSD, not a treatment for it.

She could see that the outer critic typically triggered her into a very old feeling and belief that “People are so unreliable – they always let you down –they just can’t be trusted!

Assault survivors respond differently. There's no right or wrong way to react after being physically, emotionally, and/or sexually abused. Some people don't discuss it. They prefer to not rehash it. Others may need to communicate their shock, pain, anger, and trauma. Either way, the assault can be so overwhelming that we may respond in three ways - fight, flight, or freeze.

By processing information from the environment through the senses, the nervous system continually evaluates risk. I have coined the term neuroception to describe how neural circuits distinguish whether situations or people are safe, dangerous, or life-threatening. Because of our heritage as a species, neuroception takes place in primitive parts of the brain, without our conscious awareness.

If we ignore our abuse and trauma, it will continue to reveal itself to us. It may be subtle or it may be intense. Trauma can show up in our sleep. We may battle insomnia and nightmares. We can experience physical pain and emotional distress. We may struggle with anxiety and depression. Or we may suffer hypervigilance, dissociation, and Complex PTSD/PTSD. We may have flashbacks. We may battle triggers. Or we can suddenly be slammed with fight, flight, freeze, or fawn mode. Each of these signs are a normal trauma response. Even if we are unaware that it’s linked to our emotional trauma.

In 2017, after the Hollywood producer, Harvey Weinstein's sexual assault scandal went viral, the #MeToo movement grew like wildfire. It triggered my trauma. Flashbacks of horrific injustice. Old memories resurfaced.

Months later, I learned that what happened that first day at restorative yoga hadn’t been entirely spiritual—I hadn’t just found the exact spot on the astral plane to tap into my sacred core. Instead, my instructor’s techniques happened to be the perfect mechanism to turn down my DMN. The default mode network is so-called because if you put people in an MRI machine for an hour and let their minds wander, the DMN is the system of connections in our brain that will light up. It’s arguably the default state of human consciousness, of boredom and daydreaming. In essence, our ego. So if you’re stuck in a machine for an hour, where does your mind go? If you’re like most people, you’ll ruminate on the past or plan your future. You might think about your relationships, upcoming errands, your zits. And scientists have found that some people who suffer from depression, anxiety, or C-PTSD have overactive DMNs. Which makes sense. The DMN is the seat of responsibility and insecurity. It can be a punishing force when it over-ruminates and gets caught in a toxic loop of obsession and self-doubt. The DMN can be silenced significantly by antidepressants or hallucinogenic substances. But the most efficient cure for an overactive DMN is mindfulness. Here’s how it works: In order for the DMN to start whirring, it needs resources to fuel its internal focus. If you’re intently focused on something external—like, say, filling out a difficult math worksheet—the brain simply doesn’t have the resources to focus internally and externally at the same time. So if you’re triggered, you can short-circuit an overactive DMN by cutting off its power source—shifting all of your brain’s energy to external stimuli instead.

If ever there was a prime-time trigger for PTSD you couldn't do much better than this, but lucky for Norm, the crowd, America, the forty-million-plus TV viewing audience, Bravos can deal, oh yes! Pupils dilated, pulse and blood pressure through the roof, limbs trembling with stress-reflex cortisol rush, but it's cool, it's good, their shit's down tight, no Vietnam-vet crackups for Bravo squad! You can march these boys straight into sound-and-light show hell and Bravos can deal, but damn, isn't it rude to put them through it.

Barrett said that when we’re dehydrated, we don’t necessarily feel thirsty—we feel exhausted. When we have something odd happening in our stomach, our body doesn’t quite know if we have a menstrual cramp or a stomachache or if we need to poop. We might not even be aware for a long period of time that our stomach hurts. And this isn’t unique to people with PTSD. It’s normal, everyday bodily dissociation that we all suffer from. If we find ourselves in a shitty mood, we might not necessarily be mad about a certain trigger. We could just be running at a metabolic deficit. Our body might be screaming “I NEED FUNYUNS” while we project our hangriness onto, say, this poor sweaty schmuck who’s breathing too loud in the elevator. But Barrett said that PTSD does make these inclinations worse. It affects a variety of systems in the body, throwing them all out of whack. Our hearts might beat faster. Our lungs might pump harder. Our body budget can get tipped off-balance more easily. And when it does, our reactions to these deficits can feel outsized. “Make sure that you get enough sleep, make sure you exercise, make sure that you eat in a healthful way,” she told me when I asked her what I could do to be a better person. When I countered that that didn’t seem like enough, she kindly offered, “You know, all you can do is take as much responsibility as you can. And sometimes it’s the attempt that matters, you know, more than the success.” Then she chuckled at herself. “That’s a very Jewish mother response!” So, first step of hacking my brain: sustaining it with enough oxygen and nutrients

Through such neglect the child’s consciousness eventually becomes overwhelmed with the processes of drasticizing and catastrophizing. Drasticizing and catastrophizing are critic processes that lead the child to constantly rehearse fearful scenarios in a vain attempt to prepare himself for the worst. This is the process by which Cptsd with its overdeveloped stress and toxic shame programs sets in and becomes triggerable by a plethora of normally innocuous stimuli.

The PTSD stress response can be triggered by powerful memories. The emotional attachment to the memories is so strong that it can cause the same chemical reaction as the actual event. My thought was that if a body could be trained into this constant state of stress, then it could be trained out of it. I came up with a plan. If Ryan’s stress trigger was the emotional charge attached to his old memories, then we would defuse those memories by creating new, more powerful ones.

And here’s what makes complex PTSD uniquely miserable in the world of trauma diagnoses: It occurs when someone is exposed to a traumatic event over and over and over again—hundreds, even thousands of times—over the course of years. When you are traumatized that many times, the number of conscious and subconscious triggers bloats, becomes infinite and inexplicable. If you are beaten for hundreds of mistakes, then every mistake becomes dangerous. If dozens of people let you down, all people become untrustworthy. The world itself becomes a threat.

In fact, some might argue that starting C-PTSD treatment by diving into the back of your closet and chasing out your scariest, most deeply buried skeleton is a terrible idea. You could find a murderous clown in the storm drain of your life, and he could start haunting your everyday existence. You could dig up something that triggers you badly and makes your symptoms worse or is so unpleasant to look at that you just quit therapy and never come back. That’s why many trauma therapists try to set up a strong framework of coping mechanisms before people launch into their foundational traumas.

Next, I called neuroscientist and psychologist Lisa Feldman Barrett, author of How Emotions Are Made. She told me that our bodies have a limited number of metabolic resources. We need a certain amount of sleep and water and nourishment in order to think, to learn new things, to produce the correct hormones. If we don’t get all of those things, our bodies are “running at a deficit.” But we don’t often understand what deficits we’re running at. We are not like The Sims, where we can see our hunger and rest and boredom levels represented as little progress bars at the bottom of the screenBarrett said that when we’re dehydrated, we don’t feel thirsty—we feel exhausted. When we have something odd happening in our stomach, our body doesn’t quite know if we have a menstrual cramp or a stomachache or if we need to poop. We might not even be aware for a long period of time that our stomach hurts. And this isn’t unique to people with PTSD. It’s normal, everyday bodily dissociation that we all suffer from. If we find ourselves in a shitty mood, we might not necessarily be mad about a certain trigger. We could just be running at a metabolic deficit. Our body might be screaming “I NEED FUNYUNS,” while we project our hangriness on, say, this poor sweaty schmuck who’s breathing too loud in the elevator.

Awakening The historical agonizing moments of hysteria mocking, left negative imprints into my tomorrow mourning, triggering constant anxiousness in the moment worrying, worrying about the past is not living for tomorrow. Awakening from historical trauma is moving forward to live today and for tomorrow. Facing tomorrow, must be living in the present day. Living at the moment, awakening begins. Feeling the moment awakening awakens. Awakening allows genuine moments to penetrate. Awakening creates new memories of the present time. Awakening aware of the past. Awakening is in the present. Awakening willing to be there for tomorrow. You have awakened from the past, living in present and facing tomorrow. You are well awaken living your life. by Tina Leung: I Face Forward poem

When we lose our fucking minds on a regular basis, we are wiring our brains into a constantly heightened state that eventually fries our circuits (and pushes away everyone we love in the process). We program ourselves to always be on the alert. So we react with far greater speed than we used to, and perceive more situations as being dangerous, hostile, or threatening. We are constantly jumping at shadows. Our brains never get to rest and recharge and we start struggling with many other conditions associated with this wiring change. Added up, those conditions are known as autonomic nervous system dysfunction. Many common health problems (heart disease, high blood pressure, food allergies) as well as many common mental health issues (depression, anxiety, PTSD) are related to a continued heightened response.

Much of my research had stated that people with PTSD had shrunken prefrontal cortices—that experiencing triggers often shut down the logical centers of our brains and left us irrational and incapable of complex thought. But Siegle told me he’d discovered that research to be flawed. He’d found that with many people with complex PTSD, the exact opposite was happening. In moments of intense stress and trauma, our prefrontal cortices were actually far more active. Normally, if you’re facing a threat, your body immediately reacts to it. Your heart starts pumping blood. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. This is all in service of getting blood to your legs so you can run the hell away from it. On top of this, you feel your heart beating faster. You recognize that you’re freaking out. That makes you even more anxious, and your heart beats even faster. But Siegle told me, “As far as we can tell with complex PTSD, in really stressful situations, you’ve got this coping skill that allows the prefrontal cortex to just shut off some of our evolutionary freak-out mechanisms and instead have high levels of prefrontal activity. So our bodies stop reacting.” In other words, in some moments of intense stress, we are super-duper good at dissociation. Our hearts don’t pump as hard. Our brains cut themselves off from our bodies, so we don’t really have that feedback loop of getting anxious about getting anxious. Instead, our prefrontal cortices blink online—we become hyperrational. Super focused. Calm. Siegle explained it this way: “If running away has never been an option for you, you have to be cunning and do other things. So it’s like, this is time to bring all of our resources online, because we’re going to survive this.

Imagine this garden; one you’ve planted from seed, cultivated with love. When the seeds break the ground, they seek sunshine, warmth, and nutrients. The seeds have no control over the weather. They are as dependent on it as we are on our minds. You may have control over the location of your garden, the frequency with which you tend to it, and the amount of care you give it, but you can’t control the weather. It may be sunny one day, rainy the next. You prop the vines in the hopes they will flourish once the rain passes. And they may, until the next rain comes. The weather changes, sometimes without warning. Sometimes you can see it coming, much like the triggers a depressed person avoids, and you try to protect the plants before the storm. The intensity of the labor can get frustrating, especially if there is no relief in sight. One day, a tornado or hurricane passes through. Even though you see it on the horizon, you can’t stop it and you may not be able to seek shelter soon enough. The plants are torn from their roots, the garden completely destroyed. You may have thought you could protect it yourself, that the storm wouldn’t be that bad, or you simply didn’t know how or were afraid to ask for help. Your neighbors and family couldn’t help or didn’t know you needed help. The garden is gone. This is the way of depression; if you don’t have it, it’s very difficult to understand this cycle.

Because the amygdala can become hypersensitive, chronic stress can make you more jumpy and anxious. This is why a war veteran with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) will hit the floor and cover his head when he hears the loud blast of fireworks. Before he has a chance to think about it, the blast reminds him of an improvised explosive device (IED) exploding or a gunshot. His amygdala triggers the fight-or-flight response—a false alarm. When you experience severe trauma or excessive chronic stress, the once-cooperative partnership between your hippocampus and your amygdala becomes skewed in favor of the amygdala. This is because the hippocampus is assaulted by excess cortisol and glutamate when the amygdala is pumped up. Cortisol and glutamate act to excite the amygdala, and the more it is excited, the more easily it is triggered.

Traumatic symptoms are not caused by the “triggering” event itself. They stem from the frozen residue of energy that has not been resolved and discharged; this residue remains trapped in the nervous system where it can wreak havoc on our bodies and spirits. The long-term, alarming, debilitating, and often bizarre symptoms of PTSD develop when we cannot complete the process of moving in, through and out of the “immobility” or “freezing” state.

Another clue that we are in a flashback occurs when we notice that our emotional reactions are out of proportion to what has triggered them.

Advanced flashback management, then, involves learning how to manage the disconcerting experience of falling asleep feeling reasonably put together and waking up in a flashback. Typically this occurs because a dream has triggered you into a flashback. If you remember the dream, you can sometimes figure out why it triggered you. With growing mindfulness you may even understand which events from the previous day triggered your dream.

Verbal ventilation is the key way that people make friends. It parallels the way tender touch, soothing voice, and welcoming facial expressions helps infants and toddlers establish bonding and attachment. When we practice the emotionally based communication of verbal ventilation in a safe environment, we repair the damage of not having had this need met in childhood. This in turn opens up the possibility of finally attaining the verbal-emotional intimacy that is an essential lifelong need for all human beings. Committing to this type of practice typically requires courage and perseverance. Authentic sharing can be triggering, and sometimes flashes the survivor back to being punished or rejected for being vulnerable. Therapy, individual or group, can help greatly to overcome and work through these obstacles to vitalizing your self-expression.

PTSD patients relive their traumatic event; they replay it every time something triggers the memory. The same event over and over in their heads. Anything can trigger it, a face, a tone of voice, a sound. It’s called hyperarousal and it’s one of the key symptoms of PTSD.

Authentic sharing can be triggering, and sometimes flashes the survivor back to being punished or rejected for being vulnerable.

stomach hurts. And this isn’t unique to people with PTSD. It’s normal, everyday bodily dissociation that we all suffer from. If we find ourselves in a shitty mood, we might not necessarily be mad about a certain trigger. We could just be running at a metabolic deficit. Our body might be screaming “I NEED FUNYUNS” while we project our hangriness onto, say, this poor sweaty schmuck who’s breathing too loud in the elevator. But Barrett said that PTSD does make these inclinations worse. It affects a variety of systems in the body, throwing them all out of whack. Our hearts might beat faster. Our lungs might pump harder. Our body budget can get tipped off-balance more easily. And when it does, our reactions to these deficits can feel outsized. “Make sure that you get enough sleep, make sure you exercise, make sure that you eat in a healthful way,” she told me when I asked her what I could do to be a better person. When I countered that that didn’t seem like enough, she kindly offered, “You know, all you can do is take as much responsibility as you can. And sometimes it’s the attempt that matters, you know, more than the success.” Then she chuckled at herself. “That’s a very Jewish mother response!” So, first step of hacking my brain: sustaining it with enough oxygen and nutrients

Keeping the kindness aspect of this RAIN step in mind, we can now move on to what it means to investigate. Investigation is the process of inquiring what your subconscious mind is trying to tell you. In the previous steps, the anecdotal characters had accepted that they were feeling a certain way and allowed it to occur. This is the step that would allow them to understand where these core wounds are coming from. Moreover, it will be indicative of what they both need in this situation. Often, without practicing RAIN, an individual would become emotionally caught up in a situation and make judgments about their external environment. However, such judgments are often inaccurate because, ultimately, everyone has their own attachment style and core wounds, and everyone assigns their own individual meanings to situations. To begin the investigation process, remember that what you are feeling when you’re triggered is everything in the current moment in addition to all of the past emotions that trigger is associated with. For example, consider someone with PTSD. When something in their external present is reminiscent of the original traumatic experiences they’ve endured, the emotions they’ll feel in response to the present event will be significantly stronger due to the past emotions they’ve stored. Therefore, it is essential to ask yourself questions like: “What am I believing?” and “What emotional response wants the most attention?” By asking probing questions, you may surface the unmet needs that the situation is calling to satisfy. Ultimately, your subconscious mind will do nearly everything it its power to meet needs that are seemingly unmet.

Research shows that when we can’t get to a new normal, it’s because the brain’s ability to process the experience is disrupted during the first thirty days after the trauma happened. This is why PTSD cannot be diagnosed in the first month. We don’t know yet if we’re going to get our shit back together or not.

In those early days at the VA, we labeled our veterans with all sorts of diagnoses—alcoholism, substance abuse, depression, mood disorder, even schizophrenia—and we tried every treatment in our textbooks. But for all our efforts it became clear that we were actually accomplishing very little. The powerful drugs we prescribed often left the men in such a fog that they could barely function. When we encouraged them to talk about the precise details of a traumatic event, we often inadvertently triggered a full-blown flashback, rather than helping them resolve the issue. Many of them dropped out of treatment because we were not only failing to help but also sometimes making things worse. A turning point arrived in 1980, when a group of Vietnam veterans, aided by the New York psychoanalysts Chaim Shatan and Robert J. Lifton, successfully lobbied the American Psychiatric Association to create a new diagnosis: posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which described a cluster of symptoms that was common, to a greater or lesser extent, to all of our veterans. Systematically identifying the symptoms and grouping them together into a disorder finally gave a name to the suffering of people who were overwhelmed by horror and helplessness. With the conceptual framework of PTSD in place, the stage was set for a radical change in our understanding of our patients. This eventually led to an explosion of research and attempts at finding effective treatments

Parenting two young children was triggering Renee’s childhood memories, and she did not have sufficient resources to handle these feelings.

Complex PTSD is a result of prolonged or repeated trauma over a period of months or years. Here are some common symptoms of Complex PTSD: reliving trauma through flashbacks and nightmares dizziness or nausea when recalling memories avoiding situations or places that remind you of the trauma or abuser hyperarousal, which means being in a continual state of high alert the belief that the world is a dangerous place, a loss of faith and belief in the goodness of others a loss of trust in yourself or others difficulty sleeping being jumpy—sensitive to stimuli hypervigilance—constantly observing others’ behavior, searching for signs of bad behavior and clues that reveal bad intentions low self-esteem, a lack of self-confidence emotional regulation difficulties—you find yourself being more emotionally triggered than your usual way of being; you may experience intense anger or sadness or have thoughts of suicide preoccupation with an abuser—it is not uncommon to fixate on the abuser, the relationship with the abuser, or getting revenge for the abuse detachment from others—wanting to isolate yourself, withdraw from life challenges in relationships, including difficulty trusting others, possibly seeking out a rescuer, or even getting into another relationship with an abuser because it is familiar disassociation—feeling detached from yourself and your emotions depression—sadness and low energy, a lack of motivation toxic guilt and shame—a feeling that somehow you deserved to be abused, or that your failure to leave earlier is a sign of weakness destructive self-harming behavior—abusing drugs and alcohol is a common result of ongoing trauma; this can also include overeating to soothe and self-medicate. The flip side can be harming yourself through not eating. These behaviors develop during the period of trauma as a way to deal with or forget about the trauma and emotional pain.

Trauma occurs when attack or abandonment triggers a fight/flight response so intensely that the person cannot turn it off once the threat is over. He becomes stuck in an adrenalized state. His sympathetic nervous system is locked “on” and he cannot toggle into the relaxation function of the parasympathetic nervous system.

More and more, I realize PTSD is bigger than the triggers and the flashbacks and the anxiety and shit. It’s affected my mental energy in a big way, making me want to curl up into a ball and sleep. It’s only been lately that I’ve not only had the physical energy to do something but the mental power as well.

Self-destructive behavior: When someone has been in a controlling relationship long enough, they carry on with the feelings of shame and fault even after the relationship has ended. This can flow over into forms of self-harm and substance abuse to continue with what the abuser did to them. ●     Overly obliging: Being forced to make the needs and wants of another person a number one priority from wake up until bedtime can result in extending the people-pleasing into other areas of your life. ●     Trust issues: Being mentally abused to the point where a person doubts themselves, or doesn’t even trust themselves or others, it can create severe trust issues. This can even lead to more severe concerns such as social anxiety. It instills mistrust of what others say, what they really mean and their sincerity. ●     Emotionally disconnected: It’s not uncommon to not understand how to emotionally respond to situations or people, or even express emotions at all. ●     Cognitive issues: This can be the result of the ill-treatment itself or the physical symptoms impairing health. Lack of sleep can result in many of the symptoms listed earlier as can digestive issues. Additional concerns also include memory loss, inability to concentrate, losing focus performing basic tasks or “spacing out”. ●     Inability to forgive the self: Feelings of unworthiness, shame and blame dissipate over time they never completely go away. Similar to PTSD, one small trigger can be all it takes to relive the trauma. Another aspect of this is a damaged self-worth that causes us to not make an effort to reach goals or dreams, or we self-sabotage because we’re convinced we don’t deserve happiness or success.

As it turns out, there is a consensus among cognitive behavioural therapists that trigger warnings are counter-productive when it comes to trauma recovery. As Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt explain in The Coddling of the American Mind (2018), ‘avoiding triggers is a symptom of PTSD, not a treatment for it’. They quote Richard McNally, the director of clinical training at the Department of Psychology at Harvard University, who writes: ‘Trigger warnings are counter-therapeutic because they encourage avoidance of reminders of trauma, and avoidance maintains PTSD’.

Perfectionism also provides a sense of meaning and direction for the powerless and unsupported child. Striving to be perfect offers her a semblance of a sense of control. Self-control is also safer to pursue because abandoning parents typically reserve their severest punishment for children who are vocal about their negligence. As the quest for perfection fails over and over, and as parental acceptance and nurturing remain elusive, imperfection becomes synonymous with shame and fear. Perceived imperfection triggers fear of abandonment, which triggers self-hate for imperfection, which expands abandonment into self-abandonment. This in turn amps fear up even further, which in turn intensifies self-disgust, etc. On and on it goes in a downward spiral of fear and shame-encrusted depression. It can go on for hours, days, weeks, and for those with severe Cptsd, can become their standard mode of being.

When we learn about threats as children, and they are accompanied by strong emotions such as fear, they can remain embedded in the neural circuits of the hippocampus for life. Neuroscientists call these “deep emotional learnings.” Like the old posters, they may have no use in the present. They may even be triggering us to react to threats that are entirely imaginary. Yet once learned, and reinforced by conditioned behavior, they are hard to change. Like the dusty posters in the pubs, they may hang around long after they’ve outlived their usefulness. When the hippocampus isn’t sure what to make of a piece of information, it refers it to the brain’s prefrontal cortex (PFC). That’s the brain’s executive center, the seat of discrimination and knowledge. It takes incoming information from the hippocampus and determines whether the apparent threat is real. For instance, you hear a loud bang and are immediately alarmed. “Gunfire?” wonders the hippocampus. “No,” the PFC tells it. “That was a car backfiring.” The reassured hippocampus then does not pass the alarm to the amygdala. Or perhaps the PFC says, “That group of young men hanging out in the parking lot looks suspicious,” and the hippocampus then signals the amygdala, which puts the body on Code Red. Using that path from the emotional center of the brain to the executive center is crucial to regulating our emotions. Because it involves a feedback loop with information going first to the PFC and then back to the hippocampus from the PFC, it’s called the long path: hippocampus > PFC > hippocampus > amygdala > FFF. The long path is the default for people with effective emotional self-regulation. 3.8. The long path. 3.9. The short path. In people with poor emotional self-regulation, such as patients with PTSD, this circuit is impaired. They startle easily and overreact to innocuous stimuli. The hippocampus cuts out the PFC. Instead of referring incoming threats to the wise discrimination of the primate brain, where the bang can be categorized as “car backfiring,” the hippocampus treats even mild stimuli as though they are life-threatening disasters and activates the amygdala. This short-circuit of the long path creates a short path: hippocampus > amygdala > FFF. The short circuit improves reaction speed, but at the expense of accuracy.

emotionally abandoned children often devolve into experiencing all people as dangerous, no matter how benign or generous they may in fact be. Even love, coming their way, reverberates threateningly on a subliminal level. Unconsciously, they fear that if they momentarily “trick” someone into liking them, the forbidden prize will vanish once their social perfectionism inevitably fails and exposes their unworthiness. Moreover, when this occurs, they will be triggered even more deeply into the abandonment mélange.

Especially when it came to slasher or home invasion horror movies. They triggered episodes of PTSD.

Religious trauma resides in our bodies and nervous systems in the same way that trauma from war, developmental trauma, or sexualized trauma live inside us. Though the triggers and environment of the original trauma may differ, how religious trauma lives in our bodies, on a physiological level, is the same.

Many flight types stay perpetually busy and industrious to avoid being triggered by deeper relating. Others also work obsessively to perfect themselves hoping to someday become worthy enough of love. Such flight types have great difficulty showing anything but their perfect persona.

I learned that when I was feeling especially judgmental of others, it usually meant that I had flashed back to being around my critical parents. The trigger was usually that some vulnerability of mine was in ascendancy. In response, I then over-noticed others’ faults so that I could justify avoiding them and the embarrassment of being seen in a state of not being shiny enough.

For the budding codependent, all hints of danger soon immediately trigger servile behaviors and abdication of rights and needs.

When we become lost in this process, we miss out on our crucial emotional need to experience a sense of belonging. We live in permanent estrangement oscillating between the extremes of too good for others or too unlikeable to be included. This is the excruciating social perfectionism of the Janus-faced critic: others are too flawed to love and we are too defective to be lovable. A verbal diagram of a typical critic-looping scenario looks like this. The outer critic’s judgmentalness is activated by the need to escape the “in-danger” feeling that is triggered by socializing. Even the thought of relating can set off our disapproval programs so that we feel justified in isolating. Extended withdrawal however, reawakens our relational hunger and our impulses to connect. This simultaneously reverses the critic from outer to inner mode. The critic then laundry lists our inadequacies, convincing us that we are too odious to others to socialize. This then generates self-pitying persecution fantasies, which eventually re-invites the outer critic to build a case about how awful people are…ad infinitum…ad nauseam. This looping then keeps us “safe” in the hiding of silent disengagement. When it emanates from the inner critic direction, the vacillating critic can look like this. The survivor’s negative self-noticing drives her to strive to be perfect. She works so hard and incessantly at it that she begins to resent others who do not. Once the resentment accumulates enough, a minor faux pas in another triggers her to shift into extreme outer critic disappointment and frustration. She then silently perseverates and laundry lists “people” for all their faults and betrayals.

The survivor who is polarized to the outer critic often develops a specious belief that his subjectively derived standards of correctness are objective truth. When triggered, he can use the critic’s combined detective-lawyer-judge function to prosecute the other for betrayal with little or no evidence. Imagined slights, insignificant peccadilloes, misread facial expressions, and inaccurate “psychic” perceptions can be used to put relationships on trial. In the proceedings, the outer critic typically refuses to admit positive evidence. Extenuating circumstances will not be considered in this kangaroo court. Moreover any relational disappointment can render a guilty verdict that sentences the relationship to capital punishment. This is also the process by which jealousy can become toxic and run riot.

When an emotional problem is conceptualized as internal, as a disease, as a faulty personality, or otherwise, a message is being implied that such a person is innately defective; the problems in the world, in the family, and in society are simply meaningless triggers of an individual deficit rather than the problems themselves. And, if one is a victim of such disease, then it is logical to assume they have no responsibility or control over their behaviors and must, therefore, be controlled by others. By dismissing the life circumstances underlying one’s distress and blaming them for having something internally wrong with them, society is, in effect, for many re-creating the traumatic dynamics that led to the distressing experiences in the first place. This is not hyperbole; evidence has demonstrated the traumatizing effects of mental health care for many, with some meeting full criteria for PTSD as a direct result of their treatment experiences (e.g., Mueser, Lu, Rosenberge, & Wolfe, 2010).

Biologists marvel at the elegant efficiency with which the brain stores fear-laden memories, which provide a superb defense system against external attacks and an amazingly fast and effective system for physical self-preservation. But they warn that these same kind of powerful memories turn out to be extremely difficult for the brain to process when life is no longer in danger and the person desperately needs to extinguish the memory and break the cycle. The hippocampus, a small part of the brain that would ordinarily help integrate information, has a very difficult time processing the fear-imprinted memories because of the high degree of physiological stress those memories trigger. People suffering from PTSD, including some cutters, are in a sense trapped—hardwired. Their terror-bound memories can return or be reactivated by other stimuli, but they are never able to effectively process the original emotional memory for reasons that are physiological. When the door opens with a loud bang, to continue the analogy, what is replayed in their minds is a startingly real experience of a ferocious tiger charging at them.

People with PTSD cannot find refuge even in sleep, their rest ravaged by nightmares and flashbacks. Their bodies become so overrun by danger signals that they can no longer trust their physical responses for cues as to how they should react. As Cindy described, they go immediately from stimulus to response without being able to think through or often even be aware of what triggered them.

2021年本科学位约克大学毕业证办理‘咨询’202 661 4433办理York毕业证办约克大学文凭办约克大学学历办York学历办York文凭办York学位证书办加拿大约克大学2021年本科毕业证。 klSJSJKSHJKSSJKSJKSSJKSHKSJ jkSJKSJKSJKSHJKSHSKJS klJSLKJSLKSJLKS I won’t go into all the ways the last Apple TV remote was bad, but mainly so I don’t trigger PTSD. If you’ve used it, you know. The order may vary in terms of what you hate the most versus my own list, but we all have the same list. And new users, well, may you never know such pain. And you won’t because I’m happy to report that the new Apple TV remote is not just good, it’s very good. I’m not sure it replaces my old TiVo “peanut” remote as my most favorite remote of all time, but it may eventually with usage. Certainly in terms of clean design it tops that remote. And pretty much any other remote I can think of. Except for maybe the first and second Apple TV remotes, both of which had fewer buttons. Most remotes are comically complex and look like they were designed by children. Not this one.

If you encounter a trigger, breathe and move through your five senses. Observe and describe what you see, hear, smell, taste, and feel. You can also use the acronym STOP—Stop, Take a breath, Observe what’s going on around you, and Proceed (i.e., move forward with what you were doing before the trigger caught your attention).

Are you aware that deep-immersion playback can cause depression, anxiety, dissociative disorders and increase the likelihood of addictive behaviors? “Yes,” I reply. Are you aware that deep-immersion playback can trigger PTSD? “Yes, for fuck’s sake.” That’s what I’m afraid of.

Trigger – When you know something to be true about yourself but you are in denial of it.

freeze response is triggered when a person, realizing resistance is futile, gives up, numbs out into dissociation and/ or collapses as if accepting the inevitability of being hurt.