What should I do when people ask triggering questions?

Q:

My 18-year-old daughter developed a severe eating disorder at the beginning of high school and has been in and out of the hospital a number of times since. You can imagine what a harrowing experience this has been for the whole family. Although we’re not out of the woods yet (I understand these things can take a long time to thoroughly resolve), my daughter is recovering. Here’s my problem: Her illness and absences from school were obviously in the public realm — everyone knows what she and we have been going through. People are generally wonderful, caring, and supportive, and I appreciate the concern of friends, acquaintances, virtual strangers, and the community at large. But now, as things are finally settling down and we’re beginning to hope for a return to normalcy, I don’t want the illness to be constantly on my mind. Inevitably, when I’m out and about, people come up to me to ask how we’re doing and if they can help. This is very, very kind. But I really wish that they would take the time to notice my response and respond to it appropriately. These days I smile politely, say something very brief like, “We’re doing better, thank you so much,” and then ask how their family is (a.k.a., I change the subject quickly). At that point, I’d like people to take the hint and move the conversation forward, but many don’t. Instead, they keep talking and talking about my daughter’s condition, asking probing questions. I’m sure they’re only trying to show interest, but I’m not over the trauma of the past couple of years and these questions really bring it all back to me in spades. They force me to dwell on a subject I’m trying to find some relief from. I’d like to say to these people, “You know, I don’t want to talk about this,” but this sounds incredibly rude, so of course I don’t. Is there any other way to help people get the hint that I don’t want to talk about it?

A: 

You’ve raised an important subject. People going through very hard times or people who are just coming out of a very difficult period are in a state of great emotional vulnerability. Especially if their situation has been traumatic (involving life-and-death situations or other forms of intense suffering), talking about it can trigger flashbacks, anxiety, despair, grief, and/or panic. A simple conversation can cause a cascade of emotions so painful that they may overwhelm the person’s capacity to stay grounded, resulting in unwanted behaviors such as tearing up or actually crying. The lack of control can then cause feelings of embarrassment and helplessness, further debilitating the sufferer. Or the person, drawing on every ounce of strength, manages to hold on to control, politely answering every question posed — but then, after the questioner departs, pays a huge price in the form of a seriously depressed mood. In short, an emotionally wounded person is usually in no position to answer questions about her current or recent struggles.

And yet, people ask.

You yourself know the kind of pain I’m speaking about. Your situation is active, meaning that while things are improving, you’re still involved in dealing with the fallout from a specific crisis as well as the ongoing, unresolved aspects of that situation. You do not have to talk about how you’re doing or how your daughter is doing or how anyone is doing, for that matter. Your tactic of quickly changing the subject is brilliant — you can give a short response and flip the question or move on to some other topic. Your response can be vague, lacking in details, or even untrue (saying you’re “fine” when you actually aren’t). The main goal is to end the conversation after the initial inquiry.

The responsibility of the inquirer is to notice that you aren’t offering much information. All of us need to carefully gauge the response of people when we ask “how are you” questions. Does the recipient want to talk? You’ve certainly invited sharing by asking. However, if the person hasn’t accepted your invitation, as evidenced by a lack of sharing, then graciously end the conversation there. Don’t continue to probe. Don’t ask a second question even if you’re really curious or interested in helping. Read the room. Change the topic.

If the inquirer lacks the necessary skill to change the topic, all isn’t lost. You can suddenly remember you have to make a call (or answer nature’s call!) and excuse yourself from the person’s presence. Again, self-care necessitates that you don’t allow yourself to be triggered. The inquirer is in much better shape than you are and will be able to withstand the slightly rejecting interaction far better than you would be able to withstand a highly triggering conversation. This commitment to protect your own vulnerable heart during the period of healing will help you get back to yourself — your regular, open, friendly self — as soon as possible.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 958)