triggers at a jiu jitsu tournament
lessons learned on becoming a witness to our pain
content note: this post contains sensitive material related to trauma.
the thing about being a survivor, and by that i mean having lived through something traumatic or many traumatic experiences (which, let’s be honest, is most of the human population), is that you never quite know when it will resurface.
when something new triggers you, you can suddenly find yourself thrown back into those murky waters of loss, fight or flight, or that subtler sensation, the chest tightening, the pulse quickening, the thoughts starting to spin.
what’s actually happening when you’re triggered is that your amygdala, the almond-shaped structure deep in the brain responsible for detecting threat and initiating the body’s stress response, can’t tell time.
your amygdala doesn’t know if the danger happened yesterday, last year, or decades ago.
so when it fires, your whole system reacts as if the original event is happening right now.
meanwhile, the part of the brain that can tell time, the prefrontal cortex, which governs logic and perspective, temporarily goes offline. that’s why it can feel like you’ve been transported back in time, reliving something that isn’t actually happening anymore.
what i’ve noticed in my own healing journey is that i’m getting better at keeping that prefrontal cortex online, even when my amygdala gets activated.
in other words, both can be happening at once.
i still get triggered, but i’m more able to stay present, to be the witness and feel the wave rise without being swallowed by it.
i no longer go completely under or lose myself in the old story.
i can sense the panic rise, feel my heart speed up, and still remind myself,
i’m safe now.
that, to me, is what healing really looks like. it’s not about never being triggered again, but about being able to meet those moments with more awareness and compassion.
today, i went to my son’s first jiu jitsu tournament, and all three of my biggest triggers came up for me, first one, then another, then the next.
i should preface this by saying it was the first time i had ever been to one of these events. and being that my adhd and neurodivergent brain is what it is, i had quite the time even signing up in the first place. my son had to remind me for a month. then, when i finally remembered to do it two days before the cutoff, i somehow managed to sign him up for a tournament in texas instead of denver.
after realizing what i’d done, i had to ask his coach for help, email the company, and get everything switched over. this is all to say that when you are navigating trauma, loss, perimenopause, neurodivergence, and single parenting four kids, you sometimes amaze yourself that any of it is working at all.
so this morning, the day of the event, i got up extra early. but then, as i always do, i told myself i had plenty of time. i came back to my favorite place, substack, to visit with my friends, read their notes and posts, and respond to comments.
sure enough, forty-five minutes later, we were running late, and i didn’t have time to make breakfast. so they ate rice crackers and a beef stick in the car. i know, right? how did this happen again?
(i think i might have an inkling of an idea...)
when we arrive, the event is in a big sports center- it’s very loud, crowded, and overwhelming to my nervous system. but we manage to figure out where to go, and i realize with some relief that i’ve actually come a long way. a scenario like this would have previously put me into an anxious spin, but this time i just feel mildly uncomfortable.
then, as i’m watching the very physical wrestling, i am suddenly brought back to when my ex-husband, after i tried to leave the marriage, attacked and wrestled me into a chokehold until i fainted.
in the past, a memory like this would have tightened my throat, raised my pulse, and made my stomach clench.
but i’m happy to report that, being an event that happened over a decade ago, and after years of deep healing, it passed through me quickly. it came as a brief memory, followed by an aha of why i don’t feel entirely comfortable watching the matches where a woman is paired with a man.
then it’s my son’s turn, and i’m able to move through that trigger into feeling so proud and happy for him, watching him compete for the first time ever.
after his match, while we’re waiting for his next turn, i notice a father gently helping his daughter change out of her gi (traditional attire for jiu jitsu), and something in me tightens.
a wave of old memories rises, having returned to me a few years ago, and carrying with it pieces of truth my conscious mind wasn’t ready to recover until recently.
because there are ongoing legal proceedings related to my past, i won’t share the details here.
some stories just need to wait until it’s safe to tell them.
but i can say this: when i see tenderness between male caregivers and children, there are times my body remembers things i wish it didn’t.
i breathe through it, remind myself i’m safe, and let the wave pass.
the third trigger came right before my son’s coach had to leave to take care of his baby at home. he’s the one who helped me navigate the sign-up and who speaks to my son with such gentle patience, like he truly sees him.
i spontaneously reach out to thank him for being so kind and supportive, and my heart immediately rises up into my throat and spills out through my eyes. i apologize for tearing up and explain that since we lost my husband and my son’s dad to cancer, it means even more to me to see a male authority figure showing such patience and care with him.
so there it was- three triggers tied to the three biggest male relationships of my life.
but i am healing.
and as i walked away from today’s event, i felt a quiet pride that i had not gone off the deep end with any of them.
and then i felt something else too, a little spring in my step as i walked to the car with my kids, realizing that when we got home, i would be sharing this very story here on substack.
and that thought made me so happy. that i have friends now who i can write to about anything and everything that comes up for me.
thank you for being here with me. it means more than you’ll ever know. or maybe you do know, since i tell you often. but still, thank you. it means the world.
thank you for being here, it truly means the world. i love hearing your thoughts, if you feel called to comment.
i am a writer, speaker, and musician devoted to healing and embodiment. i share essays, poetry, and original music through venus consciousness. i’d love to walk this path with you. 💞
This is such a beautifully articulated reflection, honest, grounded, and deeply human. You capture so well what it means to live with awareness after walking through pain. Healing doesn’t mean the waves stop coming; it means, as you said, we learn to stay above them, breathing through the rise instead of being taken under.
As a man reading this, I just want to say how much I respect the strength it takes to express this kind of vulnerability with such grace. It’s a quiet courage, the kind that reminds us healing isn’t linear, but layered, and that presence is its own form of power. Thank you for sharing this gentle reminder that survival isn’t just about enduring, but about learning to live softly again.
What a true reflection on trauma and the healing process! It’s brave of you to share your experiences, and I’m proud of you for recognizing your triggers and not letting them define you. It is hard and sometimes painful, but what you are capable of doing now is pure power! Your words resonate and inspire me. I’ll keep them close every time a trigger makes me uncomfortable. You are not alone in this. <3 Much love!