triggered but thriving
how my nervous system guides my healing
The Gift of Suffering
The last four years I’ve been going through a process of healing my nervous system. We all have a “window of tolerance” — how much we can tolerate before our systems go haywire — and I exceeded my threshold by a very wide margin during the pandemic.
It was years in the making. A combination of childhood experiences, communication style, traumas, genetics, and beliefs inherited from society. The tip of the iceberg was trying to run my startup essentially by myself and pushing away everything that mattered. It wasn’t just one variable, but a perfect storm that broke me down.
The beauty of this whole thing is that it left me completely lost and broken down. All the usual trappings of success and what I thought would make me happy were clearly not working. For some they call this the midlife crisis, or the quarter life crisis for me. At the bottom, the only way is up.
It was a gift to have this crisis sooner rather than later, so that I could course correct and rediscover a way of living that was more balanced and heart-centered. It opened up a spiritual path that I never could’ve predicted. There is lots of healing happening on a daily/weekly basis. Sometimes these moments are tougher than others.
The Rollercoaster Ride
The most recent flare-up of my nervous system happened on a family holiday. The first day was wonderful, but I “rolled the dice” too much—a term I use with my therapist. “Rolling the dice” means doing things I know might stress my nervous system, but I gamble because half the time, it’s fine.
This time, I drank coffee after a long break, ran a lot in the morning, and jumped into cold water. Combined with air travel, lifting a heavy baby, and getting more sunshine than usual, it was too much for my nervous system in one day. I had surpassed my window of tolerance, which has grown more resilient over the years but can still be shaky in the right conditions.
On the surface, these activities seem enjoyable, and they were. But my nervous system reacts to stress differently. When that threshold is exceeded, it triggers a cascade of mental, physical, and emotional side effects. Trauma often amplifies this, with bodily sensations getting “stuck” and tied to past memories as though they’re happening now.
The next day, fatigue and crankiness hit. It started with body-based symptoms like heightened sensitivity, then evolved into intrusive thoughts. These thoughts usually target my partner, sounding negative, whiny, and afraid: “Does this person really love me?” or “Is this the right partner for me?”
Healing Through Awareness
The mismatch is striking because we were having a great trip. These thoughts stem from an insecure attachment style that hasn’t fully become secure. The source is clear: years ago, on our first trip together, I struggled to express myself. My mind spiraled into stories that weren’t shared and stayed trapped. Now, they resurface during similar situations—almost only when we travel!
Over the last ten years, our relationship has deepened immensely. We are at a stage where we openly discuss our insecurities. These intrusive thoughts are now wispy and fleeting but grow stronger when my nervous system is activated. Instead of resisting them, I invite them in. I see them as parts of me that are hurt and want to be heard, not as “me.”
Writing and talking to my partner helps dissolve the tension. Typing these words right now allows me to see the pattern clearly. Trust and vulnerability have taken years to build, especially when sharing difficult feelings directly related to my partner. The big shift is that there’s no shame in feeling and expressing it anymore.
Discovering a New Definition of Love
Speaking of love, many people mistake romantic feelings for love itself. Those feelings wax and wane, as does every emotion. I prefer bell hooks’ definition of love: “the will to extend oneself for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.” It’s an ongoing process of growing together, full of ups and downs.
This trip also showed me growth in other ways. For example, while riding to a tour, the driver had hidden the seat belts under a tarp. I hesitated to ask about them, thinking, “It’s not a busy road; he knows what he’s doing.” But a few minutes later, I spoke up, and he removed the tarp. Having a child has made me more courageous.
Another realization was remembering my love for writing while traveling. I used to write daily on Quora for nearly two years. Writing in the mornings gives me a sense of completion and confidence—a feeling of “mission accomplished.” It spills into the rest of the day, making me feel more connected and present.
Yet, for the past few years, my writing has been sporadic. Sitting down to face the blank page takes more effort now, but the rewards are the same: freedom and clarity. Writing helps me express myself, and that self-expression is healing.
Triggered but Thriving
So my nervous system journey continues. Once, I thought the ups and downs would break me. Years of loving-kindness meditation and somatic experiencing therapy have changed my relationship to it all.
In Buddhism, there’s the idea of the Two Arrows: the first arrow is the inevitable pain of life; the second is our reaction to that pain—our suffering. The ups and downs of my nervous system haven’t totally disappeared (the pain), but my perspective has shifted (less suffering).
Now, the ups and downs feel less like obstacles and more like invitations to grow —teachers guiding me towards further healing.