When a Trigger Hits Like a Freight Train

I wish I could say my recovery only moves forward, but this week reminded me that healing sometimes takes a sharp detour. One phone call turned into a full-blown emotional flashback, and before I knew it, I was reacting like the person I used to be, not the one I’ve worked so hard to become.

Early in my 52-Week Blogging Challenge for Codependency, I wrote about subtle triggers and how I try to navigate them. But today’s post isn’t about a quiet little trigger I saw coming. It’s about the kind that blindsides you, the “walking peacefully down the road and suddenly getting hit by a freight train” kind.

Most of my recent posts have focused on the good things about my recovery and how far I’ve come. This one is about a setback. The truth is, recovery isn’t a straight line and it doesn’t have an endpoint.

This week, I got hit with a big one and I did not handle it well. I’ve taken a few days to reflect on it and dig into why it hit me so hard. For those who know me, you know I’m not one for conflict if I can help it. And when I have to face it, I aim to stay calm and level-headed, listening to the other side when needed. Well… that’s not what happened here.

It started with a phone call at 7:30 a.m. from the mother of one of my granddaughter’s friends, asking if her child was at my house. I said no. Then the father took the phone and began yelling at me, calling me a liar and blaming my granddaughter for his child’s behavior. None of it was true, and I know enough about what goes on in that home to be certain of that.

I checked my granddaughter’s room just to be sure, and of course, her friend wasn’t there. But he kept shouting, calling me more names, and even threatening to come to my house. I told him to “please do” because I had no problem calling the police, then I hung up. My whole body was shaking inside and out. I paced, trying deep breaths to slow my racing heart.

Then the mother called again, and after giving her the same answer, I hung up. I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong.

That call had already thrown me back 20 years to the fear, chaos, and constant tension of living with an abusive drug addict. My body went into high alert, eyes constantly darting to the window to watch for a car pulling up.

At 8:40, in the middle of my Zoom meeting, the mother showed up at my door. She insisted something must have happened to her child, shared her laundry list of family struggles, and revealed that this “never happens” wasn’t actually true. I told her again that her child wasn’t here, and she left, only to come back 10 minutes later.

Normally, I’m a “flight” person when fear hits. I’ll avoid, back down, and let people bulldoze me to keep the peace. But not this day. The threats, accusations, and yelling had pushed me into full fight mode. I brought her inside, told her to search my house, and yelled the whole time. I wanted her to know I wasn’t afraid of her or her husband and that if they wanted a fight, I wasn’t backing down.

She apologized, but I wasn’t interested in hearing her story in that moment. When she left, I started the long process of trying to calm myself again.

Later that day, the friend came by with texts from the mother, telling them to go stay with their godmother and complaining about wasting money on them. The poor kid had nothing with them, so I took them to Walmart for clothes and toiletries and then dropped them off at the godmother’s house.

That day, I failed. I let my fear and anger take over. I felt threatened, belittled, and thrown straight back into old wounds I thought I had healed. My body reacted as if I was back in that abusive home, and I couldn’t pull myself out.

But now I’ve processed it. I understand what happened inside me, and I see all the ways I could have handled it differently. This is part of recovery, owning the setback, learning from it, and hoping that next time a “train” comes out of nowhere, I’ll be able to stand my ground in a better way.