Last week, I posted a silly video to YouTube, TikTok, and Instagram, wherein I talked about how sometimes I’ll hear a song out of the blue, and it’ll trigger a strong emotional response in me. In this video, I specifically talked about “All That She Wants” by Ace of Base, and how I only needed to hear the first three seconds of the song, before any lyrics played, for me to know what it was and then yell “Fuck you” at the Universe. My mind had thought the Universe was being cruel and telling me I wanted another child at a time when I’m no longer in communication with the last person I’d considered having a child with. Without him in my life, I don’t actually want another child. I already have two, both teenagers, including a fully grown adult. Another baby at this stage doesn’t seem right for me.
In the comments I received on TikTok, someone pointed out that the song wasn’t actually referring to an actual baby, but rather a romantic partner. I had no idea, and thanked them for the knowledge because perhaps that was more in line with what I would like in my life. Someone else responded to that to say that was really obvious from the lyrics (and my mind added “if you’d bothered to pay attention”). My gut reaction to that second comment was a sense of shame, as if I was being made fun of. It took me back to my high school years when I was teased for not knowing things that other people thought I should know. Things that made me feel like I was an idiot. I found myself feeling defensive. Indeed, my response was somewhat defensive, but also calm. I merely pointed out that not everyone listens closely to lyrics, that the song was released when I was still a kid, and I probably hadn’t heard the song with any kind of regularity since I was a teenager. My emotional response to the song was before I even listened to the lyrics at the time.
I have no idea if the commenter meant to shame me or if they were commenting from a place of curiosity. When you live with various levels of rejection sensitivity dysphoria (RSD), it’s easy to jump to the conclusion that sounds more like someone is rejecting you, making fun of you, even if that is not their intent. If I hadn’t been developing a much stronger sense of self over the past year, or the comment had come from someone whose opinion mattered to me rather than a complete stranger, I might have felt a lot more shame and reacted much more defensively, from a place where I could’ve caused a rupture to the relationship.
This is a pretty tame example of recognising a trigger and short-circuiting my automated thought patterns. It’s a lot easier to do when I’m triggered by someone who I have no kind of relationship with. But what happens when I’m triggered by someone whose opinion does actually matter to me? That’s something I’ll explore more throughout this post.
It can sometimes be very challenging to identify what triggers our defensiveness, or our automated fear/survival responses (fight, flight, fawn, freeze). We might be able to recognise our patterns, and see when we are stuck in a cycle of triggering someone and getting triggered in return, but it’s harder to identify what actually triggered us. Then harder still to short-circuit the reaction, because the trigger isn’t even necessarily about the reality of the current situation, but rather a reminder of a past event. Like that TikTok comment that took me back to high school.
I’m going to discuss a much bigger trigger that I recently identified as I tried to manage my automated responses, and I’m going to do my best to discuss it in a compassionate way that does not lay blame on the people who said or did something to cause me to feel triggered. People are rarely taught how to deal with these situations, so we can only manage our side of things and hope that when we can respond with more compassion, it’ll teach others to start responding to us differently, too. However, if we change the way we start to reframe these situations and practise responding differently, and the other people do not show signs that they are open to trying to do the same, then it’s okay to give yourself permission to take a break from those people until they are. Sometimes, not knowing how to handle these situations, because we were never taught to, can trigger our shame so much that we aren’t willing to take the necessary steps to learn how to handle things differently. Instead, we get stuck in the mindset that we should just already know and that we must just suck if we can’t do it. Or, we’ll put all of the responsibility to handle the situation better on other people rather than ourselves.
As I discussed in my last blog post, you can’t control another person, but you can control how you react and respond to them. I’ve recently been reflecting on a specific type of situation that triggers me because I’ve now noticed it’s been a pattern from multiple romantic partners I’ve had. I believe the trigger started as a result of the years I spent listening to my ex-husband telling me I didn’t care about him because of x, y, and z reasons that he had observed. For a while, that sent me into a state of feeling like I had to try and prove to him that I did. I hadn’t yet learned how to handle that kind of situation in a healthy way. Right now, I’d like more opportunities to practise how to handle them in the healthier ways I’ve since learned, when they arise, as this is likely something I’ll experience in any future romantic relationship when I have a partner who feels triggered by some kind of distance I’ve unintentionally created because of autism hyper focus on a special interest. I think it’s also a common comment from people with RSD, anxiety, or self-worth issues (speaking as someone who has also been on the side of making such comments), who hyper focus on signs that someone doesn’t care about them… and I have a history of being attracted to these types of people, so I can’t guarantee I’ll just stop dating someone like that.
I have learned that trying to defend myself and point out all the reasons why someone’s perception of me is wrong is not conducive to getting them to change their mind. They don’t want to hear about why they’re wrong, they want their feelings validated and justified. They’re comfortable with the conclusions they’ve come to because they spent a lot of time thinking about them before voicing them. Therefore, the healthier choices, depending on how much I care about them, are either a) engage them in conversation by validating their feelings and asking for clarity to understand what is beneath their beliefs (e.g. find out what they’re afraid of when they think these things are true), or b) disengage and walk away. If they’re set in their perspective, they’re not going to listen to your opposing perspective at least until they feel like they’ve been heard, and even then, probably only if they ask you for your side of things.
What I’ve managed to ascertain is that the specific phrasing is my trigger—if I hear what comes across as an accusation that I don’t care about a person and it contradicts what I actually think I feel about them, then it sets off my defensiveness and causes me to be irrationally angry. It’s very challenging for me to take a step back and want to ask for clarity to understand what is underneath the accusation, because I feel like I have to fight to prove them wrong. What do I mean by an accusation? It’s the difference between saying “You don’t care about me because x, y, and z” (accusation) and “I feel scared that you’re not interested in me because x, y, and z” (invites curiosity and conversation so you can dive deeper and figure out a solution to help you feel less scared). I’ve been on both sides of this. I’m trying to lean into the sharing my feelings over my assumptions that come across as accusations now too.
This was at the heart of why I wasn’t able to handle things as well as I could have with my most recent ex, Lee, when I approached him in person last May/June and he told me he’d interpreted some words I wrote on Facebook to mean that the time I spent with him in January last year didn’t mean anything to me. My brain couldn’t process it—I flew to Malaysia to try and sort things out with him; why else would I do something like that if he didn’t mean anything to me? So every time I tried to communicate with him after that, I was coming from a place of defensiveness. It wasn’t until our final conversation when I confronted him to find out why he didn’t meet me for lunch when he’d agreed to do so and he told me that he didn’t want to hear my explanations or excuses that I finally had the clues I needed to eventually process what had happened. Over the last few months, I’ve gotten better at recognising that I’d been getting defensive rather than approaching him from a place of looking for clarity and wanting to understand him better that had actually been my goal when I last flew out to Malaysia to try and talk to him. I’m not sure if I’d have reacted that way if he hadn’t first accused me of not caring about him, but now that I know I have that trigger, I am finding it easier to spot.
I don’t blame Lee for the reactions he had, because I know I triggered him, too. We’re much more prone to triggering the heck out of the people who matter to us the most, because those are the relationships where the stakes are the highest if we lose them. All the more reason to try and stick to communicating with each other when we’re not in that triggered state, when we may say something that is more likely to cause a rupture to the relationship. I think this is why shutting down is one of Lee’s automatic defense mechanisms—it at least prevents him from saying something he’ll later regret. I’ve come to appreciate this defense mechanism more than being on the receiving end of the one where someone lashes out at me.
I can find it really enraging when I can identify things I have done to show I care about a person, and those things get overlooked in favour of the things I haven’t done, that I sometimes haven’t even been asked to do, especially when those efforts don’t feel reciprocated. That was a common aspect of my marriage that I lived with for years. It’s one of the most challenging parts of being involved with someone whose mind spends more time looking for signs that they’re going to be rejected instead of focusing on the things that are going right. That doesn’t mean the other person’s feelings are wrong, per se, but it might require a deep dive into understanding where those feelings stem from before they can begin to challenge the narrative in their mind and see your perspective. And when you’re feeling enraged or defensive yourself, it is difficult to step outside of that in order to seek clarity about the other person’s perspective. Which is why this is a good time to turn inward and start looking for answers for yourself about where your own rage or defensiveness is coming from. Are you ashamed? Do you feel like you’re not good enough, just as you are? (Shameless Bridget Jones’s Diary reference). Do you feel like you’re in trouble? Once you’re right with understanding yourself, accepting that part of yourself and offering compassion to it, it’s easier to be more open to discovering what is going on with someone else’s internal thought process and offering compassion to them, too.
There have been times when someone has thought I didn’t care about them because I didn’t reach out to them, but RSD, or just fear of rejection in general, is a common reason why someone might not reach out to someone they care about and miss. That common “if they wanted to, they would” refrain is not necessarily true. There are plenty of reasons why someone might want to do something and then not do it. I look back at the time Lee told me he’d wanted to reply to an email I sent him in 2021 (when we hadn’t communicated in about 7 years, and I hadn’t tried in 5), but didn’t because he was too overwhelmed with feelings of shame and guilt. I’d spent many of those years not reaching out to Lee because I thought he didn’t want to hear from me, but I still cared about him. Things still reminded me of him throughout the years when we weren’t in communication. I just knew there was no point in telling him when I thought of him because he’d shown me he’d be non-responsive if I tried, so I wasn’t going to keep putting myself in a position to be rejected by him. So, me not reaching out is not a sign that I don’t care about someone. It doesn’t mean I don’t still think about them. There may just be some kind of block, or some kind of ghost, in the way that prevents communication.
I’ve also found that fear of rejection can cause us to speak from that space of coming across like we’re making an accusation. So, even if we feel brave enough to finally reach out and try to (re)connect with someone we want to be more in our lives, or back in our lives, we’ll reach out from a place of defensiveness, as if to couch our feelings to protect us from the rejection we expect to receive. We may not realise that defensiveness can turn the situation into a self-fulfilling prophecy, because who wants to (re)connect with someone who thinks we’re going to reject them before we’re even given the chance to decide for ourselves? I’m sure I’ve sent multiple messages like this to Lee over the years, even when I thought I wasn’t. It’s much better to broach those situations without an attachment to any kind of desirable or undesirable reaction—if you can’t speak from a neutral place where you are open to any kind of outcome, then you might not be ready to try and (re)connect.
When we write from a place of defensiveness, fearing rejection, we might think we’re sending the message that we accept their decision to not want us in their lives, but it can feel differently being on the receiving end of such a message. It might suggest that you think the outcome you expect is a foregone conclusion, and maybe even that you don’t think it’s worth putting in the necessary work to change that.
Back in early February, I sent Lee a WhatsApp message because I was finally in a place where I felt like I’d reflected enough to be able to say a few more things I felt like I needed to say to him. Specifically relating to wanting to give him a proper apology without the defensiveness, explanations, and excuses I came at him with in June, and thanking him for being open enough for sharing the things he did with me in that final conversation. I was able to send that message without seeking any kind of desirable outcome, only the hope that he’d at least read the message. Which he presumably did, three days later, when I noticed the blue checkmarks.
What I didn’t share with Lee (because I thought it would’ve entered that “giving an explanation” territory) was that I had since learned I was wrong about which Facebook post he’d interpreted to mean my time with him didn’t matter to me, and the correct post actually made more sense to me why he reacted the way he did. It was still a misunderstanding, but enough time had passed that I was better able to see his perspective. Given the context of what had preceded that post, I could see why he came to the conclusion he did. What was the context? Me telling Lee that “I might want more next time [we see each other in person],” thinking I was conveying that I wanted commitment. It actually wasn’t until this past weekend when I was chatting with a friend that I realised there was nothing in that sentence that implied I was looking for commitment and Lee easily could’ve taken it to mean he wasn’t doing enough for me romantically and/or sexually, which makes even more sense why he’d shut down and think he wasn’t good enough for me. That interpretation was wrong from my perspective (he absolutely met those needs for me, which is why I wanted him to commit, too), but it just goes to show how easily you can run away from seeking clarity and understanding when you get triggered and start spiraling in your own internal narrative and fears. His shutting down in that moment heightened my abandonment fears (I was already in a state of fear about that when I thought about asking him for commitment), and around and round we went with triggering each other.
Now, you may be wondering why I’m blogging about this rather than trying to talk to Lee about all of this, and I guess that’s a fair question, especially if you haven’t read my tell-all blog post that I’ve since put behind a paywall. During our final conversation, he was pretty clear with me that he didn’t think we could even reconnect as friends, because my words had cut him too deeply and there was no coming back from that. The fact that I’ve sent him two messages since then (the other one was in early November when it felt important to confess to something I’d been ashamed of so that I could be more grounded in myself and help me embrace parts of myself that I didn’t like) goes against the promise I made to leave him alone. It was too much for him to even look at me, let alone talk to me, and I’ve tried to respect that. Instead, I’ve been using the experience as a way to learn more about how I can do things differently with other people going forward. This, in turn, increases my desire to share my experiences with other people so that they may also learn from them.
I’m also tired of feeling like I have to hide certain parts of myself in order to protect someone else’s comfort. That’s one of the big things I’ve been getting out of my Real Talk with a Vulnerable Angel & Friends livestream podcast series (I renamed it since the last time I wrote about it on this blog). It’s been a great avenue for me to share all those parts of myself that I have, in the past, been afraid to share in public or even with some friends or partners.
Whilst I am trying to learn and grow from my past experiences, and change my behaviour by slowing down and reflecting before responding, sometimes it is hard to know what the best path forward is when it seems like another person is set in their perception of the situation and not open to listening to a different perspective. That’s why when I reached out to Lee at the beginning of February, I didn’t say I was looking for anything more than giving him an apology and a desire to better understand his side of things, because the last time we communicated, he wasn’t interested in my perspective. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t be open to more than that if he showed signs of understanding my side of things and expressed regret for his behaviour like he did when he chose to come see me when I returned to Malaysia in 2023 without me even needing to track him down. That history means I know he’s capable of that. And I did tell him I thought there would always be a part of me that would like a friendship with him again in the future, but that wasn’t my goal because I’m trying to accept where he’s at, when he told me directly that we couldn’t be friends.
One lesson I want to make clear here is that as much as you might want to make assumptions and draw conclusions based on your observations, you won’t know if your perspective is accurate without hearing from the person you’re making assumptions about. I’ve thought people weren’t interested in hearing from me based on behaviour I’d observed from them, and stopped reacting to and commenting on their content because they didn’t engage with me, and I tend to stop putting effort in when I feel like it isn’t appreciated. But there have been occasions when I have learned after the fact that they were still following what I was up to, and still missed me. We can’t just paint our assumptions on people as the truth because their behaviour doesn’t conform to our expectations of how someone should behave when they care about us.
However, even when you communicate with someone and try to be clear with them, they will still view your words through their own lens, based on their past experiences and interpretations. Sometimes there is no path to mutual understanding of each other’s perspectives, no matter how hard you try. Both people in the situation need to be committed to wanting to understand the other person’s perspective and not react defensively when the perception conflicts with their own.
Knowing that there are (and have been) people who admire me from a distance, whether it’s through my photos, videos, social media posts, or blog, without reacting to any of it, has cemented this idea I have that Lee still cares about me and, if he doesn’t already, will one day reach a point of getting curious about me again and checking up on some of my public social media to see how I’m doing. He probably won’t reach out, because I think he genuinely believes I’m better off without him. But that’s just another assumption on my part, even if it is based on him telling me that a) he couldn’t give me what I needed (therefore I deserved someone better than him), and b) he thought I was doing well without him the last time we weren’t communicating. Why did he think that? Because he admitted to checking up on me through my social media posts every now and then during the years we weren’t communicating and saw me thriving. He didn’t think I missed him because I filtered him out of every post I made on Facebook anytime I made a post where I was still thinking about him.
I know the impact I’ve had on Lee’s life, so it seems impossible to me that he’d never think about me again. When I noticed that Lee opened the last message I sent him around three days after I sent it to him, I chose to believe that meant that I still mean something to him, even if he feels like we’re better off out of each other’s lives. Three days was a lot faster than he opened my messages a year ago. So I think there’s probably a part of him that misses me, and just doesn’t see a path for us to reconcile. I didn’t need Lee to reply right away or even at all. Knowing that he froze when he wanted to reply to the email I sent him in 2021 meant that I had some perspective on what might go through his head if he ever changed his mind. Knowing he opened the message meant that I felt more at peace that I’d done everything I could to make it less scary for him to contact me if he ever decides that he wants to.
Even if I’m wrong, we get to choose our perspective and how we view things, and that shapes our behaviour. I think I’m a better person if I can believe I matter to someone I care about.
It’s from this experience and perspective that I made the following short advice video directed toward the types of men I’ve been attracted to, who’ve shared perspectives about my feelings that don’t align with my reality.
Because whilst I’d love to be able to step back and be less reactive when I’m triggered, and it is something I’m working on, the fact that I have identified a trigger that has been a pattern in multiple ex-partners means it is likely there are other people out there who do the same thing. And I think it would be awesome if more people could speak in a way that is less likely to trigger a defensive response. I have another ex-partner whom I have not given the impression that I ever stopped caring about him (pseudonym Craig), and my friendship with him has been solid for more than a decade. It’s survived through getting back together and breaking up again on multiple occasions. He and my friendship with him has shown me that I don’t necessarily do something that causes men to think such things, but rather it seems to be an extension of them at some point in time putting me up on a pedestal as this amazing person they don’t think they’re good enough for, for whatever reason. They also either don’t want to make a change or don’t think they can change themselves in order to feel like they are good enough (even though I believe everyone is capable of shifting their mindset if they want something enough). I know why I’m attracted to these types of men, because my dad was the same way with my mum. We repeat the patterns we’re familiar with from our childhoods in the hope of changing the outcome.
Insecurity, fear, low self-esteem, shame—all of these kinds of feelings get in the way of being able to foster healthy relationships with people. But I will not write someone off for having those feelings. I’ve been there. I’ve grown. Because people like Lee and Craig taught me that I have value and that I mattered to them. Every time they’ve come back or wanted me to be a part of their lives, I’ve learned to respect myself more and believe that I’ve been an important part of their lives. So if I can grow and change, then I believe it is possible for other people, too. I just know that sometimes they need to learn those lessons on their own, because I’m not always able to impart my wisdom in a way that sticks.
I’m not saying that I no longer experience any insecurity, fear, low self-esteem, or shame. I still have my moments. The difference is, now, when I experience those feelings, I try to sit with them and embrace them rather than trying to push them aside to protect myself by lashing out at another person or shutting down. I’ve done plenty of things I’m embarrassed about, but accepting those parts of myself has helped me act with more integrity and step up to change my behaviour because I don’t want to keep living like that. It is damn hard, but it is worth it to build more fulfilling friendships and relationships. It helps me find my way home to myself.
If you want to be listened to and heard, sometimes you first have to be willing to be the listener and really dive deep to understand what’s beneath what is being said on the surface. If you want some kind of connection with a person, be it friendship or romantic, come to the conversation with the belief that the other person also wants to make things work. Because when you come to the table with your walls of self-protection still up, so it won’t hurt so much when they inevitably reject you, you don’t realise that you’ve created a blueprint for a self-fulfilling prophecy.
It seems clear to me now that whilst silence can mean someone doesn’t care about you, if you’ve ever found yourself thinking about someone you care about from your past but choose not to reach out to that person, it is probable that they’ve also thought about you and chosen not to reach out. Especially when you’ve shared great memories together. Heck, they may even remember things that you don’t. That was one of the most fun surprises for me when I reconnected with Lee in 2023—hearing the things he remembered from our time together in 2014 that I didn’t recall. You have no idea what another person is thinking about unless they choose to tell you.
With my history, I know I’m likely to feel triggered and trigger my partner in any future relationship I have. From the psychologists and relationship experts I follow on social media, it sounds like this is a normal part of romantic relationships. Shame wounds can run so deep that we are bound to unintentionally trigger them in our partners, and that can cause a rupture in a relationship if not addressed with compassion. This means, in order for a relationship to survive, both people need to be willing to find the tools they can use to help them through those triggered states so they can feel safe to reconnect with their partner afterwards. I think this is the number one thing I’ll be looking for in my next relationship. So far, Lee is the only person I’ve been with since my divorce that I’ve felt safe enough to start working through these issues. I was able to start safely working through my fear of abandonment anxiety when I got triggered when he was too busy or in his own thoughts about other stuff to message me, because I was able to ask for what I needed to help me feel secure during those moments, and he consistently met those needs. Missing the closeness I felt with him is a big part of why I have been able to start digging into my other triggers, not because I think it’ll help me get back with him, but because I recognise those triggers helped me push him away, and I don’t want to keep repeating that pattern with other people in the future. As much as my kids like to tease me that I’m from the dinosaur age, I’m not a dinosaur. I’m not going to be the author of my own extinction. I’m going to survive.
To sum up, these are the main lessons I’m taking to heart from analysing some of my triggers and trauma responses:
- Before reacting or responding, try to take a step back and consider that the other person cares about you and is just hurting and speaking from a place of self-protection.
- Ask for clarity rather than assuming.
- If they matter to you, you probably matter to them.
- If you think about them, they probably think about you, too.
- If you must assume anything, assume good intent. Even if there is no good intent, you’ll still approach the situation with a more open mind.
- Be willing to hear another person’s perspective and open to changing your mind.
- Work on your self-esteem so you don’t project your own internal feelings about your worthiness onto a person who sees you as worthy of spending time on.
I hope that my experiences and lessons have been helpful for other people, too. Please let me know if anything I’ve said resonated with you by leaving a comment.
