Did you get hurt, or did you give yourself a fright?
Understanding past hurts and present reality.
Laughter and giggles instantly turn into high-pitched screams and crocodile tears. O, with all his energy, fell down while running through the house. His mom patiently walked over and asked, “Did you get hurt, or did you give yourself a fright?” Through sobs and big breaths, O said, “A fwright.” His mom asks this question each time he falls, knowing that tears are the body’s way of asking for comfort. When O cries from pain, he needs a bandage, a kiss, maybe an ice pack. But when he cries out of fear, he needs to know he’s safe and seen by the one who loves him most.
And I wonder, too—what if we could ask ourselves, “Am I hurt, or did something give me a fright?” What if we could look at our relationships and, with gentle curiosity, notice how sometimes it’s reminders of past pain that bring fear. Often, the person or situation stirring this fear isn’t trying to harm us; they’re simply touching on something we still carry.
A student once sat on my couch, expressing her deep desire for a relationship, yet feeling an intense fear of being “boy crazy.” She worried about her friends’ reactions; afraid they’d look down on her. This fear kept her from being fully known, blocking her from the meaningful friendships she truly longed for.
As we explored her fear, we gave it shape, color, and texture—a green, slimy blob sitting in her stomach and throat. I asked her, “What age is this green, slimy blob?” She looked puzzled at first, but then, as she thought, she was able to trace this feeling back through memories: to her freshman year, to moments in high school, even middle school.
"This is dramatic!" she said, laughing at the memories. She hadn’t expected to uncover middle school pain or her sorority days, which felt “silly” in comparison to her current life.
But as they say, anything that’s hysterical is often historical. The strong emotions we carry often come from past experiences that left a mark. Through our conversation, she began to see that her longing to connect and her fear of vulnerability were her younger self’s way of saying, “I was hurt before, and I’m scared of being hurt again.”
With this awareness, she found an invitation to self-compassion. She had come in hoping for a bandage, a quick fix. But she realized what she truly needed was a warm embrace that communicated, “You’re safe now.”
For a few years, The Body Keeps the Score has been a popular book, giving us insight into how the body stores trauma. One of my favorite phrases to explain this is, “What happens in vagus stays in vagus.”
We all have a nervous system, some more sensitive than others. This system is like a best friend whispering secrets all day long through a process called neuroception. Neuroception tells our body whether it’s safe to rest, to flee, to fight, or to shut down. And we trust these whispers—our best friend knows what’s best, right? Our bodies hold onto past experiences as truths, shaping our responses in ways that aim to protect us.
To this day, I can’t eat a roast beef sandwich. I’ll never forget standing barefoot on our cold tile floor, my plate slipping and shattering, feeling my stomach churn just at the thought of eating. A new plate was quickly made for me, but I couldn’t stomach it. That moment seared into my memory: roast beef equals sickness. It doesn’t. I’m not allergic, it’s not dangerous, but to me, roast beef sandwiches = vomit.
This happens in relationships, too. Someone has a certain tone or says a specific word, and suddenly, we’re back to that one painful memory. Without realizing it, we fall into patterns of protection—avoiding certain people or holding back in conversations, just to keep ourselves safe. We reach for the metaphorical bandage when what we might need is to comfort ourselves and remember, that was then, and this is now.
In those moments of discomfort, take a pause and gently ask yourself, “Am I truly hurt right now, or did something give me a fright?”
If you realize you’re hurt, consider whether you might need to:
Set a boundary
Communicate your needs
Walk away from this relationship
Examine your expectations
And if it’s just a fright, you might need to:
Name the story you’re telling yourself
Offer yourself compassion
Process past experiences that linger
Remind yourself, “I am here, now.”
Here’s to being gentle and kind to yourself in your process of becoming.