I Was Triggered - and I Recognized It

I’ve been trying to understand why something I went through nine years ago can still resurface in such a raw way.

A few days ago, I was talking with my sister. She was telling me about a situation her co-worker—let’s call her Angie—is dealing with at work. As she described the behavior of Angie’s boss, I felt myself getting triggered almost immediately.

That surprised me.

I hadn’t fully considered that this kind of abuse doesn’t just exist in romantic relationships. It shows up in workplaces, friendships, families—anywhere there’s a power dynamic.

But as she kept talking, I recognized it.

The subtle undermining.

The constant sense that nothing you do is quite right.

The quiet, cutting comments that are easy to dismiss individually—but relentless over time.

It was the same pattern I experienced years ago with my abuser, “Ant.”

What struck me even more is that I had actually met Angie’s boss—let’s call him Ed—years earlier when I interviewed him for a role at my company.

I remember exactly how he made me feel.

He was arrogant, self-righteous, and dismissive. He acted as though the interview was a formality, as if he was entitled to the position based on who he knew. Something about him felt off enough that I chose not to recommend him.

He was later hired by another group.

So hearing how he’s now treating Angie isn’t surprising—but it is deeply unsettling.

Because the way he behaves isn’t overt. It’s covert.

It looks like small things:

Kicking an empty box into her office and telling her to “do something with it.”

Making comments about whether she carries her passport—thinly veiled and inappropriate.

Constant, subtle belittling that keeps her on edge.

Individually, each moment could be brushed off.

Together, they create an environment where she is constantly walking on eggshells.

And that’s what triggered me.

Because it took me right back to the gradual hell I once lived through.

Not all at once—but slowly. Quietly. Confusingly.

That feeling of anxiety you can’t quite explain. The constant second-guessing. The shock of realizing, at some point, that this isn’t normal—but not knowing how you got there.

That night, I had a dream about “Ant.” I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

I think hearing Angie’s story brought my mind back to a pattern it learned long ago—one it hasn’t forgotten, even after all this time.

Not because I’m stuck there.

But because I’m calibrated now.

I can recognize the tone, the tension, the subtle erosion of someone’s confidence in a way I couldn’t before. What once confused me is now clear. What once kept me questioning myself now stands out immediately.

There’s something both heavy and powerful in that.

Heavy, because I can feel how damaging it is the moment I see it happening to someone else.

Powerful, because I know I would never mistake it for normal again.

And maybe the part that hits me the hardest is the contrast.

I’m now in a relationship that is kind, steady, and safe. There is no walking on eggshells. No second-guessing my reality. No underlying tension I have to manage.

And because of what I lived through, I don’t take that for granted for a second.

I know the difference now—not intellectually, but in my body.

I know what it feels like to be diminished, and I know what it feels like to be supported.

And that awareness has changed everything.

If any part of this feels familiar—if you find yourself constantly explaining someone else’s behavior, questioning your own reactions, or feeling like you have to get everything just right to keep the peace—pause.

Pay attention to that feeling.

You don’t need a dramatic moment to justify your discomfort. You don’t need proof that would hold up in a courtroom.

The quiet, persistent feeling that something isn’t right is enough.

You can trust yourself earlier than you think.

I end every blog with this, if you recognize you are experiencing something similar, you are not alone. Feel free to reach out to me.

#standthefuckup