Chiggers and Triggers

We were driving home from college and it was later in the evening. I had to pee, but there were no rest areas or gas stations in sight. I had to go so badly that we eventually pulled off to the side of the road. With flashlights we headed back into a wooded area so I could finally relieve myself. My friend kept watch until I was done and then we ran back to the car. I was bladder empty and happy as can be…until the next day. When I discovered that when I had squatted in the woods, I had been attacked by chiggers. And let me tell you, ladies and gentleman, it was HORRIBLE!!!! The worst thing I had ever experienced. And it lasted for weeks. I finally went to a doctor and she said to…wait for it…to put wet tea leaves all over the area. What?! Of course, that didn’t work; nothing worked. I just had to endure. And so now, any time I hear the word chigger or see the woods at night or look at my tea bag for too long, I begin to quake.

I’ve been sick for the last 10+ days. With clogged ears and a cough. A cough so bad that for 3 nights in a row I didn’t sleep. But not only was I battling physical sickness, as is always the case when I’m sick, I also battled my mental health.

My dad (may his memory be a blessing) began a life of sickness and addiction to prescription drugs when he was in his 40s. It’s all I really knew of him growing up. He seemed to constantly deal with migraines and ulcers and depression. As a result, when I get sick, even though I know that I’m not my dad, I get nervous and panicked that I’m going to end up like him. Never getting well. I worry that THIS sickness is “the beginning.” In fact, I worry that every sickness that comes my way is “the beginning.”

I know it’s stupid, but there it is. Just the thought of getting sick, having to some day begin a regiment of taking a daily pill, experiencing unwellness for longer than a day or two - causes me to quake. It was worse in my 40s, what I assumed would be the starting point of my eventual decline. It didn’t happen and hasn’t happened. Because getting sick, for me, is obviously and simply a trigger.

Trigger. A word that most everyone is familiar with. It explains the over-the top-reactions. It’s a word that, in a way, lets me off the hook when I admit to it and apologize for it. But, as I think about it now, that’s just not good enough. Because it means that I've gotten comfortable or accepting of my triggers. When I should be treating them more like, well, chiggers.

Getting a chigger bite is the most irritating experience in the world, affecting my body and my peace of mind. But triggers have an even greater impact - outside of my sickness trigger, my other triggers affect my relationships. So, why wouldn’t I address triggers with the same intensity as I do chiggers, doing everything in my power to never experience them again? Because who wants to live with the threat of chigger bites and relational triggers wherever they go?

So, here’s what I’ve decided. From now on, I’m going to be calling my triggers chiggers. (say that a few times). To remind myself that triggers are a horrible experience. I’m going to go to work on them, getting the help I need to address my triggers. So that I can enter the woods, so to speak, fearless and confident, knowing that no surprise bites will come at me. Because my chiggers, of all kinds, have all been eliminated so that I never have to quake under the impact of another excruciating uncomfortableness again.