What it Feels like to be Really, Really Triggered

One aspect of being disordered that I think is difficult for many of the non-disordered to understand is the causation, function and outcome of being "triggered." According to the Eating Disorders Glossary (access online), a trigger "Refers to a person, place, thing, event or emotion that sets an eating disorder in place. This is a controversial term, and used in several ways that can be confusing. The word 'trigger' is very often confused or conflated with 'cause,' leading to more confusion. In much of the eating disorder community, trigger is used to describe things that are upsetting and lead to eating disorder behaviors. It is common to hear a patient speak of being 'triggered' by specific foods, situations, and interactions. Another school of thought and use of the word is to describe events that lead to actions or emotional states that activate an underlying brain disorder. For example, people often refer to dieting or athletic activities as triggering an eating disorder biologically by putting a person into a state of malnourishment or negative energy balance." This is one of the best definitions that I've ever heard for a trigger because it encompasses both the emotional and physiological aspects of being triggered. One can be triggered to act out on their disorder by some outside event and then become further triggered by the physiological reaction to eating/ acting disordered. It's a cycle.

Last week I was triggered multiple times in the span of 48 hours and then was dumbfounded when I awoke from a series of frightening dreams in a state of deep depression. After a useless day, I realized that my mental capacities were totally drained by the emotional roller coaster. What's difficult to understand is how such a variety of seemingly unrelated things can become so passionate and convoluted in the disordered mind. Let me walk you through it.

I can break triggers down into two main categories: historical danger zones and spur-of-the-moment explosions. The first of my ill-fated series of triggers was a weekend full of drinking, eating, and celebrating. In fact, one of my greatest prides is my re-incorporation of drinking, dining out and celebrating into my life; I can weather these events with barely an emotional tug, but it still takes considerable self-coaching to do so. Still, it's easy for me to justify working out a lot and eating less when I've got a party every evening to attend.

I got through the weekend of historical danger-zones. Then, the day after the last party a close acquaintance accused me of restricting my carbohydrate intake. She had mentioned that I was looking a bit thinner, which I appreciated so much. But when I felt like she was watching everything that I was eating I was appalled; since she didn't know dietary exchanges she also had no idea how many carbohydrates I was actually taking in. The most triggering aspect of that conversation was actually the fact that I had watched her skip dinner the night before. Comparisons are another historical trigger.

There are some times when the world presents triggers and other times when you pick up the gun and load it yourself. I can explain to you the difficulty in weathering triggers and the many things that can set me off but I cannot explain to you why sometimes I seek to be triggered, why I let myself go into those dark places knowing full well the havoc they may wreck on my soul. I'm sure it's the same reason an alcoholic takes a sip. Something drives us to hurt and test, and yet we become completely ashamed when we don't pass. We set ourselves up to fail and then hate ourselves for doing so.

One thing I've never been able to let go of is breaking up with my ex-boyfriend nearly two years ago. Whether it's relevant, I place so much of the blame on my eating disorder. I feel more guilt and shame regarding that break-up and am still in love with him (ouch). For the past two years I've followed his and his new girlfriend's blog. It had been several months since I'd opened that wound. Then, one night last week I was a little bored and curious. "I'm over him, really, so it won't do anything," I convinced myself.

BANG! goes the trigger, historically dangerous but with spur-of-the-moment damage. His girlfriend's latest post was about his style, featuring pictures of him wearing clothes that I had bought him. It was like jumping out of a hot-tub into the snow, except I was not partying with friends in a cute bikini. My little world turned into a black pin-prick. As I drove to my next event, I missed two exits and have no idea what was on the radio.

My next meeting was a focus-group. Focus-groups are another one of my "funny-money" income sources. I walked in with my head in the clouds and then got hit by a passing plane: someone from my high school was there. My cheeks turned bright red and my intestines fused with my kidneys. What would he think about me, former student body president with a destiny to rule the world, attending a focus-group for extra money? I spent the evening darting behind various tall people and pieces of furniture to avoid having to speak with him. Surely he pitied me; I pitied me at this point. What if he asked me if I was still dating my ex? O my god, he looked like me ex! BANGBANGBANG.

The next morning I woke up. I rolled over and went back to bed. I woke up again and completed a robotic work-out, far from my body. I tried to work on proposals and strategies for my clients but felt too frail to render any creative energy. I mostly ate fruits and vegetables and cake. It was one of those days when nothing I did was enough and yet I didn't have enough in me to do anything. I just counted the hours until I could go to bed. I gave up on the day. It was just depressing.

The next day I woke up bright, shining, and ready to go. The storm had passed and I was grateful for having let it do so. Still, I can't afford to allow triggers to render me useless for 24 hours straight. I look back and wonder what I could have done in the moment to handle the emotions rather than retreating into my safe warm hole once the predator was already hovering over it.

When I was sick and these days happened I would judge myself for them. I'd hate that I became so crippled, willing myself to work harder and be stronger. Now, I am proud of the self-care that I undertook and proud that I rallied so naturally once I gave myself the space. Actually, writing this blog has made me (dare I say it?) excited for the next trigger. I know that my hand will not be on it and I know that I will recognize it when it comes. Can I act in the moment, rather than after the fact, to take care of my bleeding heart? I know I can. We cannot undo the experiences we've had, but can only learn from them. I'm excited to see what the world fires at me next.