What a trigger at church looks like—and what God can do

No matter what we've experienced in the past—or how it resurfaces—our Savior understands. He was there before, and He's there now. He stands by us, willing to give us a new normal.

"Hide" by Elisabeth Handelsby

It’s late on the last night of church camp, and I can’t find my car. Since my dorm isn’t within walking distance, this is a minor annoyance, because I'm tired and I want to go to bed.

A few hours later, I’ve found my car. But after settling into my comfy bed in my private dorm, I can’t sleep. My adrenaline is high, my stomach’s in my throat, and I feel anxious. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I get up for a drink of water. Now it's the middle of the night. I try to sleep, worrying about dark circles under my eyes and whether makeup will hide them. Another hour passes, and the physiological sensations in my body are worse. Suddenly, I'm crying—and I can’t stop.

The next morning, I fumble through my closing remarks to wrap up camp, then I hide like a child. Instead of exchanging cheerful goodbye hugs, I feel shame for the previous night. A familiar pull tethers me to anxiety. My throat burns, my chest is tight, and tiny pins and needles shoot down my arms whenever I think about the previous night’s meltdown. It’s confusing! I have no idea what happened or why I'm feeling such intense things.

Days later, I make the connection. But instead of relief, a barrage of thoughts bring more shame:

You are a grown woman. Why are you crying and hiding at camp?

Hasn't your Savior helped you heal? You're letting Him down!

You should be embarrassed. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?!

Not having access to my room at camp late at night doesn’t immediately bring back the memory of a youth leader locking me out all night at a religious retreat. That memory is thirty years old.

Instead of remembering, I just feel the same things, as if I'm a teenager again.

The easiest thing to do at that point? Never go back to camp.

You may be thinking: Big deal—don’t go back to church camp. And you’re right. Unwanted feelings making decisions isn’t always a big deal. Say you’re in a car accident—maybe after that, you only take the bus. Or, if something bad happened to you in high school, maybe you don’t go back for reunions.

Avoidance doesn’t always affect our lives (or the universe) much. Other times, it leaves a big, gaping hole. When the past starts trying to make decisions, it feels like the adults who tried coercing my faith are winning. And while there’s some truth to that feeling—don’t go back, because no one should be pressured into settings that trigger spiritual wounds—that’s exactly what brings me full circle.

At the heart of my struggle to use agency at church as an adult is not having it in religious settings as a teen. That’s why the past keeps coming back, and why triggers try to make decisions. So, with that in mind, I carefully consider—what is it that I want? Realizing I still want the same thing I longed for thirty years ago—to feel close to my Savior, participate in His gospel, and make my own decisions about faith and belief—is only a partial answer.

So, I pray.

Usually, that prayer goes something like, If You want me at camp, can’t You make sure things like this don’t happen?

The answers that come aren’t what I expect. For example:

• If you get overwhelmed at camp, it’s okay to ask for help

• If you’re not feeling up to a task, have someone else take over

• At camp, you need breaks and enough rest

This is what camp looks like for me now.

This is how my Savior and I are making new memories at camp.

This is how He unfolds healing New Normals.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve felt my Savior replace thoughts of never going back to camp with: I need Good Shepherds at my church camps. Who better understands the needs of a struggling teen than you?

As I write this, I feel Him say, “This is what I mean when I say that my arm is not shortened to redeem.”