14/08/2026
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that a lot of reactive people become this way because they were never taught by example how to authentically communicate their needs.
They weren’t taught how to communicate to be understood, or how to listen to understand—they were taught to be right or get punished, defend themselves or get demeaned, and to keep their upsets to themselves or get shamed.
I’ve realized that a lot of people have learned offense or defense as their first language.
But what I’ve also realized is that whether it’s a laughing emoji thrown at something serious, or lashing out before even trying to understand—other people’s reactions rarely have anything to do with me.
Instead, their reactivity stems from not knowing there’s any other option.
I notice the same triggers in myself.
When someone demeans me or lashes out, my first instinct is to reach for that same weapon.
The people I admire, however, have a much different relationship to their triggers and their trauma, even under provocation.
Instead of shifting into reactivity, they pause. They soothe themselves and recalibrate back to communicating what’s most meaningful to them.
They recognize how impossible it is to be in survival mode and problem-solve at the same time. And problem-solving is always their priority.
So I try to practice this myself when I’m triggered.
Before I move to protect myself, I try to remember to soothe my wounded parts and then access the part of me that’s healing.
And from this place, when someone triggers me, even though I can still feel the contraction, the embarrassment and the intense urge to defend, I can remind myself that other people’s issues aren’t mine to carry.
Their strategies for winning an argument aren’t mine to adopt or recirculate.
And nobody has the power to erase my perspective—only expand it.
Sometimes, if I have the energy, I’ll ask: What do you mean by that? Where’s this coming from? What happened to you personally that gave you this belief system?
And many times, it’s like handing someone a door they didn’t know was there. Maybe no one ever asked. Maybe being a jerk is the only way they’ve ever been seen.
That said—I’ve also realized it’s not my job to try and get through to every reactive person. I’ve realized that some people in survival mode are too constricted to reach at all.
I still get upset when I cross paths with a reactive person, especially someone who laughs at the violation of other people’s human rights.
I wonder, do they not see that we are each other in different bodies with different circumstances? Do they not understand that it’s impossible to truly care for ourselves while being ok with the dehumanizing of others?
And yet, when I listen to their reactivity through my healed self, I can understand that they developed this callousness because in their experience, no one ever protected their humanity—so why would they extend that to a stranger?
And I also realize, that when someone’s whole worldview has narrowed to “what about me,” there’s often no conversation to be had.
I don’t give up sharing my perspective—I just give up trying to change theirs.
And every once in a while, without my own reactivity in the way, the space opens up—making room for curiosity to step in where self-defense used to sit.
JLK
(Image is a woman whose head is a toilet. Words say: Your mind is not a toilet.
Other people's crap doesn't belong there.)
