The Language of Trauma Can Also Be a Trap
This is what happens when avoidance gets rebranded as self-care.
I had a friend who used to say, “I will cut somebody off in a minute.”
She said it like a flex. And a promise. Like it made her feel powerful to walk away first.
That’s how she described holding a boundary —anytime she felt emotionally unsafe.
She said it often.
And I heard her loud and clear.
Every. Single. Time
Then one day, I watched her do it.
She cut folks off with a swiftness. No warning. No wobble. Just gone. Thank you, next.
So it shouldn’t have shocked me when she did it to me. But it did.
It wrecked me.
One of the most painful friendship breakups I’ve ever had. Left me disoriented. Hollow
I tried to make sense of it. For years. Not a typo.
Now I see it more clearly. We weren’t having the same experience.
She believed she was protecting her emotional safety by walking away, shutting down, and clipping ties, especially when she was being stretched.
Every time I heard her say those eight words, “I will cut somebody off in a minute,” I made a mental note.
Because people always tell you three things. And they almost never realize it.
Who they are behind the facade of their representative.
How they show up when things are beautiful, and when they’re falling apart.
Exactly how they’ll disappoint or hurt you.
Loving her was a risk. And I knew it. But I stuck around. Trusted. Even though she told me, out loud with her whole chest, how she coped when things got hard.
The guillotine came by text. Christmas morning.
I still remember how fast my heart was beating as I read every scathing word.
I tried to fix it. I really did. But there was no space for repair.
So I let her go. And I’ve carried that experience ever since.
It’s made me question emotional safety. And how it’s performed and misused. Usually not on purpose. But often as armor. A script. A reason to lace up your sneaks and run.
It has become socially acceptable to ghost. And to call anything that stretches us a “trigger.”
We say we’re honoring our nervous systems, protecting our peace. And sometimes we are.
But what if “unsafe” is just unfamiliar?
What if it’s a shift in the making? The contraction before the expansion? The spasm before the breakthrough?
Growth isn’t designed for comfort.
And sometimes we shut shit down, because we’re afraid of who we might become if we stay open and curious.
Discomfort isn’t always a red flag. Sometimes it’s an invitation.
xo,
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