The Only Training We Got: Thoughts with Chess

When Avoidance Isn’t an Option

We all struggle with emotional triggers—those sudden hits that throw us off balance. Most people try to avoid them until they can’t. Then, they hope the personal growth, therapy, or self-help they’ve done will be enough to carry them through. But what happens when there’s no warning? When the trigger itself becomes the only training you get—live and in real time?

What do you do when the moment chooses you before you’ve chosen the tools?

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My Response

Most of us don’t rise to the moment—we crash into it. And when that happens, who taught us what to do? Most of us didn’t grow up with therapy, emotional toolkits, or examples of calm in the chaos. So we fumble through it, trying to learn as we go. And sure, this is about family, but it hits even deeper.

If my grandparents didn’t learn how to regulate their emotions and didn’t teach my mom, and she didn’t teach me—and if the same is true for my dad’s side—how am I supposed to just know? And if your family didn’t pass it down either, how are we going to teach our kids?

Emotional skills don’t just appear. They aren’t automatic. They have to be sought out, practiced, and earned. Without them, the cycle keeps repeating. Kids grow up unprepared—emotional time bombs who could’ve been leaders, healers, or creators.

I wanted to say this to my sister: how can you be mad at me for losing control when you lose it first? And if you were the one who pushed me there—by doing something objectively hurtful, something you should’ve known not to do to family—then how does that even make sense? The same people who made you think that behavior was okay are the ones who taught both of us how to lose control. So if we’re both a mess, it’s no surprise. But the real question is: what now?

This doesn’t have to be a story of sinking. We can adapt. The chaos isn’t going anywhere—and let’s be honest, neither are the assholes. And hey, you’ve got every right to be one about 10% of the time. We all do. The key is doing the work. Being intentional. Giving grace—both ways. That’s where the real transformation happens.

And the crazy part? The ones who trigger you the most are usually family. Something in us expects them to know better, to treat us better. But ironically, it’s those exact moments—the ones that cut the deepest—that give us the biggest chance to grow. Life doesn’t hand out grace lessons through strangers. It hands them out at the dinner table.

In a perfect world, growth wouldn’t come at the hands of your immediate family. But that’s not the world we live in. A lot of family members want more protection than they give, expect loyalty they don’t return, and get offended when you choose yourself over their mess. They’ll throw it in your face when you walk away—but couldn’t lift a finger when you asked for help unless someone with authority told them to. Because for some folks, morality is performative. Like my mom said: “It’s on them, not in them.”

And maybe that’s the hardest part—when the person who triggered you is the same one blaming you for the reaction. But if they were taught it was okay to mistreat you, and you were taught to respond with chaos, then neither of you had a fair shot. You’re not broken. You were just handed the same broken instructions.