For a long time, I treated my triggers like proof that I was broken.
Every reaction felt like a setback.
Every spiral felt like I’d undone all my progress.
Every moment my body panicked before my mind could catch up felt like failure.
But triggers aren’t failures.
They’re messages.
A trigger is not your weakness showing.
It’s your nervous system speaking a language it learned to survive.
Your body remembers what your mind tried to forget.
It remembers danger, abandonment, harm, unpredictability.
And when something in the present echoes the past—even faintly—it responds the way it once had to.
Not because you’re failing.
Because once, that response kept you alive.
Triggers don’t mean you’re back at the beginning.
They mean you’ve touched a tender place that still needs care.
Sometimes the message is: This reminds me of something that hurt.
Sometimes it’s: I don’t feel safe right now.
Sometimes it’s: Slow down.
Or Pay attention.
Or This boundary matters more than you think.
We’re taught to override these signals.
To push through.
To “be rational.”
To quiet ourselves for the comfort of others.
But healing isn’t about silencing the body.
It’s about listening without judgment.
What if, instead of asking “What’s wrong with me?”
we asked “What is this trying to protect?”
What if we met our triggers with curiosity instead of shame?
The crow doesn’t scold itself for sensing danger.
It watches.
It listens.
It remembers.
The flame doesn’t apologize for reacting to touch.
It responds honestly—to warmth or to threat.
So when you’re triggered, pause.
Breathe.
Ground.
And remind yourself:
This isn’t weakness.
This is information.
You don’t need to punish yourself for reacting.
You don’t need to rush the healing.
You don’t need to be “better” to be worthy.
You just need to listen.
Triggers are not the enemy.
They are signposts on the path—pointing toward the places where compassion, safety, and tending are still needed.
And that doesn’t mean you’re failing.
It means you’re paying attention.
🖤🔥🖤
Crow and Flame 