Trigger

5 ways I turn my grief triggers into a Tigger.

I want you to think about Tigger in Winnie the Pooh. You know the one–orange, black stripes, kooky laugh. Think about how he’s “bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!” I’m going to draw a strangely odd, yet fitting, parallel that hit me as I sat in a meeting.

Now, think about a trigger. One minute you’re doing dishes and staring out of the window and the next minute, you realize that your husband should’ve been home 5-minutes ago so clearly he was in an accident and the police will show up any moment and tell you the news. That’s rational, right? No? I know but that’s a tigger … I mean a trigger.

Some days we think we have our grief “sorted” once and for all and then… we get hit by a bouncing cannonball. Much like Tigger (see what I did there?). Grief bounces around, not caring what it’s going to knockdown. It’s like, “Oh! You just got engaged?! BAM! Guess who’s not here to witness the big day!” “My daughter is seven! Better put her in a bubble so she doesn’t get hit by a car!” (I really had to fight that urge). “My parents are leaving on a vacation. I hope they are safe.” “Matt and the girls are going out. I need them to tell me when they get there.”