Triggers and Excuses

I was talking to my daughter. Most of the time when we talk about alcohol and that whole bundle, she gets defensive and angry. The talks don't usually go well and that has been a concern for me; her not being comfortable with confronting the problem, I think, helps to keep her anchored there.  Anyway, this time was different, though I kept my antennae up looking out for those first signs of annoyance on her part. I didn't want this talk to blow up, so I was prepared.  I gingerly prodded her with questions.  Some for my benefit (my persistence to try and understand the mind of an addict) but most for her's--trying to have her see the 'enemy's' deceptions.  We talked about her triggers.  Her two big ones are her ex-boyfriend and her dad.  It's like a family tree. Those two are the first and then from them, others branch out, until everything starts looking like it could be a trigger. 

Trigger.  I use that word a lot at work.  Since I work with students with emotional disturbance, I need to know their triggers, too.  I didn't really think about the word, though, until after we were done talking. 

Triggers on a gun are benign until you pull them.  Once pulled, there is no stopping that bullet.  My daughter is like that bullet.  Once her trigger is pulled, she moves straight toward her target--alcohol, well, maybe the real target is numbness.  Regardless, she hits the bull's eye every time.  She has become a very good shot.

Talking to her, about the triggers, I asked her why she can't have some kind of arsenal of backups to prevent her from pulling the trigger.  Being aware of the trigger is one thing, pulling it is another.  (She has admitted to going onto Facebook and checking on what the ex boyfriend is doing.  'Why!?' is always my response.  "I don't know," is her's.  She knows. I think she is hoping to see a big:  "I want you back" sign addressed to her.  Instead, she sees his new girlfriend.  Bang.

So, then, if someone isn't going to look for reasons to not pull that trigger, is the trigger now, not a trigger but an excuse?  I asked her this.  She didn't answer me, but I know she was thinking about it.

During our conversation, I listened.  In the past I would jump in, in my panicked way, trying to shake her with words.  Not this time.  This time I really listened and I didn't have to try.  A few weeks ago, when I started to think differently, I found that listening to her was easier for me.  The benefit of listening was to be able to counter her reasoning, but do it in a non-threatening way. She has a very analytical mind.  Mine is geared toward the arts, hers toward the sciences.  My rationale is that if I can word things in such a way that make sense to her, maybe she can begin to see things as they are and not as her sick thinking has distorted things. Did it work?  I don't know.  The conversation was calm, though and the triggers and excuses seem to be locked away, for now.