Confronting Triggers: Insights from a Pickleball Experience

That Time I was Triggered by a 14-Year-Old Girl

This is an embarrassing experience for me, but I share it because many people you encounter on spiritual journeys discuss concepts like growth, change, and transformation. However, fewer delve into the specifics. When I find people who share the details of their stories, it’s incredibly helpful. I can relate, empathize with their situations, and identify commonalities in our experiences, allowing me to use them as building blocks for my own growth.

That’s what I aim to do here. Some may judge me—what kind of person gets triggered by a child during a game? That’s fine; those individuals may not need or be ready for this message. But I hope it resonates with those who might benefit from it on their own journeys.

Some of you may be saying, what is a trigger? A trigger is a sensory reminder that causes painful memories or specific symptoms to resurface. Others, mainly parents, might be saying, “No kidding—who hasn’t been triggered by a teenage girl?” I get that. My situation, however, is a bit different. I don’t have children, and I had never met this girl before. I was playing pickup pickleball at the local courts. For those unfamiliar with the game, it may seem lighthearted due to the wiffle ball, but pickleball can get intense. There’s trash talk, injuries, and snobbery regarding who plays with whom. The dynamics are a wild mix of personalities, and I admit I’ve sometimes forgotten that it’s meant to be fun. I’ve been triggered many times in this game, prompting some to question why I even continue to play.

This particular situation was different. For the first time, I was truly conscious of the event. I was on a team with the 14-year-old girl, and her brother was on the opposing side, trash-talking her. Luckily for him, he had a much better partner. There are various ways to play pickleball, and one of my least favorite—but a popular method—is the “clobber,” where players hit the ball as hard as they can with every shot. It lacks the finesse of other styles and usually takes me a while to adjust. Both siblings were masters of this technique. While clobbers often score spectacular points, they may lack accuracy throughout the game.

As I warmed up, things weren’t going well. The people-pleaser in me was apologizing left and right. The girl responded, “Don’t apologize to me; apologize to that ball you just walloped out of the park.” Trigger engaged. In that moment, 46-year-old Courtney—who has an enriched life filled with travel, hobbies, and amazing friends and family—was transported back to the late 1980s and early 1990s (figuratively, of course—no crimped hair or jelly shoes, just emotional trauma). The awkward teenager, lacking self-esteem and terrified of criticism, felt attacked in the current 2024 pickleball game.

I silently seethed, growing angrier by the minute. I felt personally attacked by this confident girl who dared to trash-talk an adult. I had been a people-pleaser my entire life, seeking validation and fearing criticism. I had always tried hard to be perfect to avoid feeling inadequate. Yet here was this 14-year-old girl, assured of herself, trash-talking me. I allowed my anger to consume me for the remainder of the game and during the ride home. It may seem silly to some, but this was my trigger. It struck at my core wound of not feeling enough, and I let my inner child run wild, experiencing feelings of self-doubt reminiscent of my teenage years, mean comments from peers, and the embarrassing situations we face while trying to figure out who we are.

I dwelled on my anger longer than I’d like to admit, and then it dawned on me to ask why. I took some time to reflect on my feelings and traced them back to their roots. I identified the emotions bubbling up and recalled moments from my past where I felt similarly. I played the scenario through my mind, looking at it from a new perspective. I was playing a game, supposed to have fun, getting exercise, and enjoying the outdoors. I am not a professional pickleball player; my needs and wants from the game are the only ones that truly matter. It doesn’t matter what others think of me.

14-year-old girls experience their own storms of growth and emotion, and their words aren’t always kind. Adults can be just as unkind. Ultimately, it isn’t about me. I needed to remember this and treat others the way my healthier self wants to treat them. This includes giving grace to a 14-year-old girl who may not know better, a boss under pressure, or a significant other stressed from work who snaps over something seemingly trivial.

I’m not sure what made this situation different. I truly believe that pickleball can trigger the best of us. Perhaps it was the girl’s age and the synchronicity of the universe that opened my eyes. Eventually, I stepped outside myself and felt empathy for her, despite the behavior that had initially sent me reeling. Don’t get me wrong; I still experience triggers, but this was an “aha” moment for me. Whenever my stomach drops and I feel like I’m about to crash and burn in an emotional situation, I think of pickleball.

I’m not saying it doesn’t still hurt or that I don’t feel the emotions, but being able to identify them and play the scenario through has helped me give situations their proper importance in the grand scheme of things. Not everything is a fight-or-flight response anymore. My stomach may still drop, and it may take seconds, minutes, or even hours to process the experience, but it takes less time than it used to. It’s progress, not perfection. I hate to use a cliche, but they exist for a reason. Every step you take on your path is a step closer to consciousness and inner peace.