Are You Triggered or Is It True?

How to Tell

I was in my driveway today, unloading groceries from my car. As I opened the trunk, I heard barking behind me. I turned to see the neighbor of our Airbnb walking by with her large labradoodle, Maple. Without warning, Maple charged up the driveway, barking aggressively.

I froze, staying calm and making no sudden moves as my neighbor called out cheerfully, “She’s friendly, she won’t bite you!” She followed her dog up the driveway, half-laughing as she scolded Maple for being a “bad girl.”

WTF?!

She then apologized and, unbelievably, offered to let me pet Maple. I declined. She took Maple and continued her walk, leaving me standing there, seething.

I felt so angry.

So…was I triggered? Or was I just angry? And what’s the difference?

I’m sharing this experience because it’s a great example of distinguishing between a trigger and healthy, appropriate anger. They’re not the same, and understanding the difference can be life-changing.

Our culture has a complicated relationship with anger. We suppress it, judge it, and deny it. But anger plays a vital role when it’s in proportion to the situation. It’s a signal — a catalyst for action. Anger gave me the strength to leave an abusive relationship. It allowed me to walk away from my mother when our relationship became toxic. Anger is what tells me a boundary has been crossed and it’s time to advocate for myself.

When anger is healthy and present-focused, it’s your body’s way of saying: “Enough. This isn’t okay.”

In this situation, my anger could have come from a past trauma, or it could have been a direct response to my boundary being violated. Or maybe it was both.

But how do you tell?

Here’s the difference:

A trigger is when your body perceives a threat where there isn’t one. It’s rooted in outdated predictions of past danger, stored deep in your body. For example, if I had been bitten by a dog in the past or had a traumatic experience with an animal, this situation might have triggered those unresolved memories. Often, we’re not even aware of the original trauma — our body simply reacts.

To find clarity, I quickly used a short process called Emotional Resolution to address any outdated predictions that might have been firing in that moment. Emotional Resolution is a somatic process that allows your body to integrate and release unresolved triggers, permanently.

Afterwards, I still felt angry.

That told me my anger wasn’t about a trigger from the past — it was about the present. My boundary had been crossed. My safety had been violated. And my anger was entirely justified.

This is a key practice I use to navigate emotions: When I resolve a potential trigger and still feel the emotion, I know it’s a valid response to the here and now.

In this case, my anger made sense. But here’s the thing: This process works for any situation, not just obvious ones like a barking dog. A trigger doesn’t require an exact match to a past event; it only needs a vague resemblance for your body to react. It’s your mind and body’s way of trying to prevent harm from happening again. And until you resolve that trigger, it will keep firing.

Here’s the kicker: Most of what we’re told to do with anger— meditation, deep breathing, counting to ten, punching a pillow, even expressing it— doesn’t resolve triggers. These actions might help you cope in the moment, but they don’t address the root cause. In fact, expressing an emotion often reinforces the trigger, solidifying the neural pathways that keep it alive!

When we allow ourselves to fully feel and process our emotions, we gain clarity about what they’re trying to tell us. Emotional Resolution helps us distinguish between an old trigger and an authentic emotional response to the present moment.

In my case, as my anger settled, I realized it wasn’t about suppressing or ignoring the feeling — it was about channeling it in a way that felt true to me. Healthy anger has its purpose: It signals that something needs attention, a boundary needs to be upheld, or a conversation needs to happen.

By speaking with my neighbor and reflecting on this experience, I turned what could have been just a frustrating moment into an opportunity for growth and connection.

In the end, honoring our emotions — listening to them, learning from them, and choosing how to act — is one of the most powerful ways we reclaim our sovereignty. Emotions don’t have to control us. They can guide us. When we let them do that, we navigate life’s challenges with clarity, integrity, and purpose.