From Trigger to Tenderness: A Map for Moving Forward

I am not a therapist.  Do I need therapy?  Probably.  But I am hyper independent and I need to work things out on my own.  I also know how self-aware I am - I don’t think a therapist would even know what to do with me.  I work through so many things through my writing.  Sure the guides give me nudges to point me in the direction they want me going and sometimes that breaks things wide open in me.

Writing the judgement piece, made me realize that I haven’t quite dealt with some things that I thought I had dealt with.  Self-worth being a big one.  Vulnerability another.  I’ve come a long way - especially in the vulnerability department.  A year ago - there was zero chance that I would be writing ANY of this for people to see.  And weirdly, with all of the crazy things that have happened to me in the last year, I’ve also developed some fun, new insecurities!

As I write this companion piece to the Judgement: The Mirror of Your Soul post, I am scared. I am afraid that digging into people’s shame could break something open in them that I’m not qualified to fix.  But I also know that this is something that I need.  I need this to figure out how I am going to move through these things so that I can move forward.

Sure, it might uncover emotions long tucked away.  But when you weigh it against the alternative of living a life where you don’t get to fully be yourself? I’ve lived both lives and I know which one I’m choosing every time.

In my experience, the break downs have lead to some pretty significant break-throughs.  When we get honest about what hurts, what hides, what holds us back - that’s when the healing can begin. We just need to start noticing.

---

The Hiding Places

It starts with the naming. There may be hundreds of scenarios that align with your particular triggers, but at the root, most of them trace back to six core emotional undercurrents: Shame, Belonging, Worth, Vulnerability, Fear & Blame. These aren’t just feelings—they’re hiding places. And once you’ve identified what’s being stirred in you, the real work begins.

Below, you’ll find each of these six core areas, along with a few questions designed to help you recognize where your tender spot might be. These aren’t meant to fix or analyze. They’re here to help you pause, notice, and feel your way toward what’s really asking to be seen.

Shame

What are you hiding—even from yourself?

This is the part of you that believes it’s bad, broken, or unworthy of love. Shame says, “If they knew this about me, they’d leave.”

• What’s the thing you hope no one ever finds out about you?

• Is there something you’ve never said out loud—even to your closest person?

• Where do you carry a quiet, persistent sense of “wrongness” about who you are?

• What do you envy in others that feels impossible or off-limits for you?

Belonging

Where do you feel like you don’t fit?

This is the ache of never feeling quite at home in your skin, your circles, or the world. Belonging says, “If I show who I am, I’ll be cast out.”

• Where do you feel like a chameleon—always adapting, never quite authentic?

• Have you ever believed that being different made you less lovable?

• Do you hold back your truth so you don’t disrupt the group?

• What part of you was always “too much” or “not enough” for others?

Worth

What makes you question your value?

This is the part of you that ties identity to output, status, approval, or perfection. Worth says, “If I don’t earn it, I don’t deserve it.”

• Do you measure your value by how much you do for others?

• When do you feel most like you have to prove yourself?

• Do compliments or recognition feel untrue or undeserved?

• What makes you think you haven’t “done enough” to rest?

Vulnerability

What feels too risky to share?

This is the place where openness meets fear of rejection.Vulnerability says, “If I’m seen in my mess, I’ll lose love.”

• What emotions do you hide to avoid appearing weak?

• Do you share from your scars or your wounds?

• Where do you feel pressure to “have it all together”?

• What would happen if someone saw the full truth of who you are?

Fear

What keeps you from moving forward?

This is the invisible tether—often disguised as hesitation, resistance, or distraction. Fear says, “If I try, I might fail. And if I succeed, I might lose everything.”

• What dream are you secretly afraid you’re not good enough to reach?

• Where do you delay action because the outcome feels uncertain or unsafe?

• Are you afraid of being seen? Or afraid of being invisible forever?

• What feels easier to sabotage than to fully commit to?

Blame

Who are you holding responsible for your pain?

Blame feels protective—it points the finger outward, making sense of why we are the way we are. And sometimes, it’s true: things happened that shouldn’t have, people caused harm, circumstances shaped us. But staying in blame keeps us tethered. It takes away our power to shift, because the responsibility sits outside of us. Even if those people changed, would it heal what’s inside you?

• Who (or what) do you quietly believe is the reason you’re stuck?

• What story do you repeat about how someone else “made you” this way?

• If that person apologized tomorrow, would it erase the ache you feel?

• What would change if you took back the power to work with what’s yours?

---

Compassion

Once you’ve identified your tender spots, it’s time to meet them with compassion. That begins with curiosity. Not the kind that demands answers or tries to make sense of it all—but the kind that listens. The kind that stays. The kind that asks gentle questions like: What is this part of me trying to say? What does it need most right now?

Shame

What does this part of you need most?

Shame thrives in silence, but healing begins when we bring it into the light with gentleness. This isn’t about exposing your wounds—it’s about offering them safety.

• What does this part of me believe would happen if I were truly seen?

• Who taught me that this part of me was something to be ashamed of?

• When did I first learn to hide this?

• What would it feel like to hold this part of me with gentleness, not judgment?

• If I could sit with this part of myself without trying to change it—what might it say?

• What might this part of me be protecting?

Belonging

What would feeling truly seen look like?

The longing to belong is about more than fitting in—it’s about being accepted without having to shrink, filter, or perform.

• What would it feel like to stop shape-shifting and simply be?

• Can you think of a time you felt safe enough to show your full self? What made that possible?

• Whose acceptance have you spent your life chasing? What has it cost you?

• What part of yourself have you hidden to stay included?

• If you didn’t need to belong to them, where might you already belong?

Worth

What does this part of you need most?

The voice of unworthiness often echoes old conditioning. Healing comes when you begin to separate your value from your performance—and remember you were never meant to earn your right to exist.

• Who taught me that love had to be earned or proven?

• What would it feel like to be worthy just because I’m here?

• When did I first start measuring myself by achievement or output?

• What part of me still believes that rest must be justified?

• How do I speak to myself when I “fall short”?

• What might I gain if I let go of the need to be perfect?

Vulnerability

What does this part of you need most?

Vulnerability doesn’t ask you to overshare—it asks you to be honest. Healing begins when you stop protecting others from your truth and start allowing yourself to be seen with care.

• When did I learn that showing emotion made me less safe?

• Who told me I had to be strong all the time?

• What would it feel like to be held, not fixed?

• Where might honesty create deeper connection, not distance?

• What part of me is longing to be met in the mess?

• If I didn’t have to be “together,” what would I let myself feel?

Fear

What does this part of you need most?

Fear doesn’t always shout—it often whispers through distraction or delay. Healing begins when you listen with tenderness, not urgency, and let this part of you feel safe enough to move.

• When did I first learn that failure wasn’t survivable?

• Who taught me that success would come with a cost?

• What am I afraid will change if I actually get what I want?

• Where am I playing small to avoid being fully seen?

• What would it feel like to trust myself with the unknown?

• If fear wasn’t in the way, what would I do next?

Blame

What does this part of you need most?

Blame often masks hurt we haven’t yet felt safe enough to face. Healing begins when you stop waiting for someone else to make it right—and gently begin asking what you need to move forward.

• What part of me still hopes someone else will fix this?

• When did I decide that my healing depended on someone else's behaviour?

• What emotions have I avoided by staying focused on what they did?

• What would it feel like to shift the story from what happened to me to what I now choose to do with it?

• If I stopped pointing outward, what might I find waiting inside?

---

Finding the Blessing

When we meet what’s been buried with compassion, we begin to see it differently. Even the hardest parts of us were trying to help in some way—trying to keep us safe, connected, or seen. These questions are an invitation to gently uncover the gifts inside your pain.

• What did this part of me protect me from?

• What did it teach me about what I value, what I need, or what I long for?

• How has carrying this shaped the way I show up in the world?

• What strength did I develop because I had to carry this?

• Is there a softer, wiser version of this pattern that I can carry forward with love?

• Can I thank this part of me—not because it was easy, but because I see it more clearly now?

You don’t have to love what hurt you. But you can honour what it made possible. This isn't bypassing the pain—it’s reclaiming power and meaning from it.

---

Changing the Story

Now that you’ve met this part of yourself with truth and tenderness, you get to decide what comes next.

The stories we tell ourselves shape how we see the world—and how we see ourselves within it. Many of those stories were never ours to begin with. They came from pain, protection, survival. But when we outgrow the patterns, we have to update the narrative.

This is where you reclaim your voice.

• What story have I been repeating that no longer feels true?

• Whose voice shaped that story—and do I want to keep listening to it?

• What would I say to a younger version of myself who believed this?

• How can I speak to myself now with the compassion I offer others?

• What new truth do I want to anchor in its place?

• What’s a phrase or affirmation I can return to when the old story tries to sneak back in?

This isn’t about forcing positivity. It’s about creating a new inner language—one that aligns with who you’re becoming, not who you had to be.

---

Coping Differently

Awareness doesn’t make the discomfort disappear—but it does give you choices. When old wounds flare or familiar patterns creep in, you can notice them without being pulled under.

This isn’t about bypassing or avoiding hard feelings—it’s about creating new ways to support yourself when they arise.

• What do I usually do when this pain shows up?

  (Numb, scroll, fixate, over-function, shut down, lash out…?)

• Is that strategy helping me feel better—or just keeping me from feeling?

• What would it look like to pause instead of react?

• Can I offer myself care instead of control?

• What support tools help me stay anchored when I'm triggered?

  (e.g., journaling, movement, breathwork, stepping outside, asking for help)

• What’s a small shift I can make next time—something that honours my needs, not my fear?

  
  

You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to notice—and choose again.

---

You’ve named what’s been hiding.You’ve met it with curiosity, not judgment. Now it’s time to tend it.

Healing doesn’t ask for grand gestures—it asks for consistency, tenderness, and truth. The work ahead is about gently integrating what you’ve uncovered into how you live, how you speak to yourself, and how you show up in the world.

That means noticing the old stories—and choosing a new one. It means offering yourself compassion in the places you used to self-criticize. It means recognizing your coping patterns—and reaching for something softer, something truer.

You don’t need to have it all figured out.

But you are allowed to begin living like your healing matters.

Because it does.