If you scroll through my brief list of articles here on Odyssey, you’ll see a common theme, and you’ll see it quickly. I write about mental illness. I do this because I have several mental illnesses that have been a large part of my life for several long years.
A word we often use in the mental health community is “triggered.” We use it to mean a feeling that reminds us of our illness so strongly that we have an urge to act on it.
Apparently, “triggered” is also a hashtag, with almost 1.5 million memes ranging from pro-pedophilia arguments to SpongeBob images. The meme states that someone has been made upset by a certain subject or idea, but it is also taking a stab at those in the mental health community that overuse the word.
But most of us do not know what being triggered feels like, because most us understand painful memories but do not know what it is like to rely on unsustainable, unhealthy, and often life-threatening coping skills.
So the next time you want to use #triggered, I ask you to think of the following message, because this is what being triggered feels like to me.
Disclaimer: I am not claiming that this is what mental illness or being triggered feels like to everyone; I am simply sharing my experiences.
When I am triggered, I cannot breathe. I cannot think straight. My entire mind is consumed by memories, events, and the need to destroy myself for just a moment of peace. Imagine walking on the beach with your best friend, lover, spouse- and feeling the warm sunshine on your shoulders. The cool water kissing your feet gently, your toes digging deep into the sand that closes around them, accepting your body as a part of it. Now, imagine being pushed into the water. Your head is held underneath by your scalp, bleeding as fingernails dig into them. You wonder what you’ve done to deserve this. Your lungs start to burn and your eyes are forced open by the desperate need to find your way out. Salt water stings the back of your eyes, and you can feel your skin start to tighten and crack. You know you cannot hold your breath for much longer. Your body doesn’t have the same strength. Your arms and legs feel limp. You know to give in is death. But you cannot hold out. And just as you feel the first of the briny water splash down, heavy, into your chest…
Nothing. Here is the end of triggered. You either decide to stay and fight or you decide to give up, to breathe it all in. You know death will feel sweeter, but you shouldn’t give in. You can’t keep going like this.
And the worst part of it all? No matter what you choose, you know it’ll happen again. Minutes, hours, days — it’s not a question of if it’ll happen. It’s a question of when. How strongly. And if you’ll be able to resist death this next round.
