A while back, my dear friend Laura visited me for a weekend getaway. As soon as she arrived, we jumped into her car, excited for a fun escape. Living more than five hours apart, our time together is precious.
That night, we decided to visit a psychic and stock up on crafting supplies at a nearby Walmart. As we entered, I spotted two teenagers dashing around the candy displays, glancing back nervously. I was about to comment on their antics when suddenly, a Walmart employee burst in, yelling for everyone to flee to the nearest exit.
Without a second thought, we ran. We were so close to the parking lot, yet it felt like an eternity. A man’s voice echoed in my ear, shouting that he had a gun and would shoot. That moment changed everything for me.
Once outside, the chaos was overwhelming. Car alarms blared as people frantically searched for their vehicles, their panic matching our own. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and it turned out the gun wasn’t even loaded. The man later claimed he just wanted “a little fun” — what a real piece of work.
Even now, I can’t set foot in a Walmart without feeling anxious. Crowded places trigger a wave of panic that leaves me breathless, especially when I’m alone with my kids.
Fast forward to last weekend, when my family and I attended a performance of Les Miserables. I noticed a sign at the entrance warning of simulated gunfire, and I can’t express how thankful I was. That heads-up allowed me to prepare myself mentally and plan for a quick exit, if necessary.
I wasn’t alone in my appreciation. Others in the audience were also grateful, and some even chose to leave during that scene. Despite the intensity of their feelings, they were able to enjoy the performance because they had been warned in advance — something I wouldn’t have realized if I hadn’t lived through that traumatic experience almost a decade ago.
Before that night at Walmart, I didn’t fully grasp the importance of trigger warnings. I had no idea how debilitating it could be to feel paralyzed by past trauma or how the smallest thing could send me spiraling. A scene in a movie, a casual conversation, or even a familiar scent can unexpectedly trigger a flood of emotions.
Being “triggered” is not a joke; these feelings are genuine and shouldn’t be dismissed, no matter how trivial they may seem to others. Trigger warnings are essential tools that help people prepare for potentially distressing situations. Mocking them only undermines those who rely on these warnings for their mental well-being.
When someone opens up about their triggers, it’s vital to take them seriously. Everyone deserves empathy and understanding. If someone needs to excuse themselves from a conversation or leave a performance, that’s their right — it’s not a bid for attention; it’s self-care.
Triggers can arise from various sources, including loss, abuse, anxiety, and trauma. That’s why trigger warnings and safe spaces are becoming more prevalent; they provide a necessary support system for those who have experienced trauma, allowing them to engage with the world in safety.
Some may not require warnings, but many do, including myself. The more we can foster understanding and compassion, the better we all are. So, the next time you feel tempted to joke about being “triggered,” consider the real impact of those words.
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In summary, trigger warnings are crucial for those who have faced trauma. They offer a way for individuals to navigate their experiences with care and respect. Understanding and compassion for others’ triggers are not just nice sentiments; they are essential for fostering a supportive community.