When triggers speak, I find my voice. Triggers have a way of sneaking up on us. A smell, a word, a fleeting moment, and suddenly you're transported to a place you thought you'd left behind. And sometimes, you don’t even realize you’re back in that movie, replaying scenes you thought were long gone. For the longest time, my triggers felt like a thief in the night, stealing away my peace without warning.
I used to silence them, push them down, ignore their cries. But the more I silenced them, the louder they became. It wasn’t until my healer taught me to listen—truly listen—that I started to find my voice within them. Triggers, as I’ve come to learn, are messengers. They speak of wounds that need tending, stories that need to be heard, parts of me that have been stuck in trauma time.
When I started listening to my triggers, I began to understand the language of my past. They weren’t there to punish me; they were there to guide me. Each time a trigger arose, it was a chance to uncover another layer of myself, to meet a part of me that had been waiting in the dark. But this was such a hard concept to grasp, and it still is. It isn't simple. Some triggers are clear, identifiable. Others are silent, playing in the background 24/7, leaving me feeling just "off" but still functioning. Then there are those that kick me to the floor for hours... days... making it difficult to get up and live life.
My healer has been so patient, showing me, through consistent and repetitive conversations with my parts, how to engage with them. I’m learning to speak back to them, not with anger or fear, but with understanding. "I hear you," she tells me to say. "I see where you come from." I remember those early conversations with my parts. We would use two chairs—one where I sat and spoke to my part, and the other where I’d switch seats and become that part. It was so uncomfortable at first. My healer would say, "Soon you won’t need to switch chairs. You will just reference your parts as 'she' instead of 'I'."
In that dialogue with my parts, I found a voice I didn’t know I had—a voice that spoke of strength, resilience, and a deep, unyielding will to heal. I’ve encountered parts that seem to resist healing. They shut down, they dissociate, they refuse to engage. But as I've learned, even those parts, at their core, desire healing. And I’ve come to understand that the parts I haven't yet learned to hold with compassion will get their turn. It's been a learning curve to not rush the process, to trust that in time, they too will feel safe enough to be seen and heard.
My healer taught me that when triggers speak, they are asking for a voice. They are asking for acknowledgment, for compassion. After a few years of practicing parts work (IFS), I still have parts that resist healing. But in finding my voice, I've learned that I can soothe some of them—not by silencing them, but by embracing them. By turning them into songs that tell my story, a story of survival and hope. And so, we continue this parts work, allowing me to find the voice hidden deep in my bones.
These parts are now seen, held, and shown the unconditional love they always deserved. This process has become easier as I’ve allowed myself to trust and feel safe with my healer. My parts feel so safe that they can truly come to life and become me. Sometimes, this is a blessing; other times, it's a challenge. I become so blended with some very stubborn parts who just want to shut down, freeze, run, dissociate, refuse, push back. But in finding my voice, I am also learning that allowing them to have these emotions and coping strategies is the way forward. I can’t heal these parts if I don’t give them the space to express and communicate what they want. They need to feel and understand that my healer and I get just how bad they had it in the past.
Creating the Calming Triggers app is a testament to the progress I've made in this journey. It's a sign that I've done enough healing to finally speak my voice by sharing this app with the world. When I had the idea, I wanted it for myself, as a tool to ground me between therapy sessions. I never intended to share it with others. It took four months to bring the idea to life, from design ideation to launching it on the app store. That speed, building a whole app in just four months, is a testament to my "planner" parts and my motivated parts. I spent what little savings I had left from work—having been laid off 2.5 years ago—dedicating myself to this project.
I am dedicated to healing. But I'm also learning that my dedication extends beyond myself. I want to share what I've learned from my healer with others as a way of paying it forward. I still see my therapist regularly. I showed her my app once, and we haven’t spoken of it since. In a way, I feel like I am silently sharing her talent and her ability to help me heal. She’s always learning, bringing new techniques, tools, and modalities into our sessions, always excited to try new things to help me. I know I will say this until readers tire of hearing it, but she really is so inspiring. She motivates me to bring this product to the masses, to share with the world that healing is possible. It’s possible to heal and to do the work at home, between therapy sessions. And for those who can't find mental health care, it’s a tool that can offer support in those quiet, challenging moments.
Stay tuned..
"When Triggers Speak"
By: Britney Shawstad
When triggers speak,
they do not ask for silence,
but for a voice,
one that echoes in the hollow spaces
where they have lived unseen.
In the dialogue,
I find strength,
in the pause,
a breath,
a heartbeat that says,
"I am here."
Parts of me,
woven into whispers,
now given the floor,
given the space to dance
or to weep,
to be held,
in the arms of understanding.
In creating,
I have spoken,
not just for me,
but for the parts waiting
to be known.
A testament,
to healing that blooms
in the quiet hours,
a voice that rises
from the deepest roots,
saying,
"It is possible.
We are possible."
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