A trigger hits, and suddenly the whole system mobilizes.
Not just the obvious reaction—irritation, defensiveness, urgency—but something subtler: a blanket response that tries to make sure you don’t stay close to what’s actually being touched.
This is why reactivity work isn’t mainly conceptual. It’s a precision practice. You’re not trying to think your way to freedom. You’re trying to stay with what’s already here long enough to see the hidden link that keeps the pattern alive.
And in this talk, the speaker names one of the most important links of all: “I have to do something to relieve this discomfort.”
Why Precision Matters in Reactivity Work
So when working with reactivity, I want to make a point about a nuance that can be really helpful to drill down into.
When I talk about reactivity, I want to make a point that it’s often really precise work.
It’s not conceptual. It’s not complicated. It’s not heady.
It’s about looking in your direct experience, but it’s precise in that it’s helpful to structure your inquiry or investigation in a specific way.
The reason is simple: reactivity is like a blanket of response to a certain stimulus that is designed—let’s say—to at all costs prevent you from looking closely at something.
It also prevents you from feeling something.
And I don’t want to overlook that, because it really is mapped into body sensations.
What it doesn’t want you to see— and I’m giving it more volition than it really has, but it’s helpful to know this— is that there are certain beliefs there, these links.
Reactivity, Fetters, and What Falls Away
When we talk about fetter work—like fetters four and five—these fetters are like straps holding together that sense of the reactive self.
If you look closely enough, you see the fetter itself is not actually there. You have to see it viscerally. Then the fetter falls—or the need to keep reconstructing it stops.
Without precision, what happens is we redirect attention almost constantly because the blanket response says:
“Don’t look here.”
“Don’t go here.”
“Can’t stay here too much.”
“Can’t handle it.”
And it offers a thousand off-ramps. So many ways to distract yourself from feeling this.
If I were to simplify, it’s almost like we’re wired to have a few things we absolutely believe, things we can never tolerate for long, and we have to do everything we can not to see them clearly.
That’s not very inaccurate—especially in a trauma space.
Everything is trying to redirect away.
And before deep trauma work, this isn’t obvious. It doesn’t feel like “I can’t go there, it’s too much.” It feels like “I’m just not interested in that. I’m interested in this.” Your attention doesn’t even get close to the threshold.
But once you decide, “No, I’m going here. I want to see it. I want to feel it. I can see the cost of avoiding it,” the gloves come off.
That’s when you see the defense mechanisms—run away, get the hell away from this.
So that’s why precision matters. Precision and a kind of tenacity, consistency, determination to actually see through it.
You can. I’ve seen it happen over and over.
And people are surprised by the degree of freedom that’s afforded ongoing. It’s not just a moment. Not a mystical experience. It’s more like:
“Oh, shit. That’s not there anymore.”
“I didn’t realize how heavy that was.”
“I was carrying this weight of reactivity that’s just gone.”
At first it can even feel like something’s missing, because it was such a big part of your life. It got so much attention, sapped so much energy.
Where do you put the energy now? Who are you if that’s not you?
With time it gets replaced by ease, peace, flow, spontaneity.
So it does work.
But it takes precision, tenacity, consistency, and trust—because you won’t see immediate results usually.
Often you see the opposite: increase in reactivity, intensity, discomfort as you get down to the crux.
A Note on Fetters: Not Only Four and Five
Often I frame this as fetter four and five, but not always.
This nuance isn’t only about fetters four and five. It also relates to fetter 10.
Four and five are plugged into fetter 10 in a way. I won’t go into all that, but you’ll probably see it if you understand the fetters and the way we talk about them here and the way Kevin laid them out.
The Trigger Statement as a Precision Instrument
When we do this kind of work, we’re often looking at a trigger by using a statement like:
“What I wanted to happen,” or
“What I wanted a certain person to do that they didn’t do,” or
“What I wanted that’s not happening.”
We structure the statement as what didn’t happen that we thought should be happening.
Examples:
“Joe didn’t honor my boundary.”
“The neighbor didn’t put their trash cans away.”
“My boss didn’t give me validation for the work I did.”
We use the statement as an instrument—like the tip of a scalpel—to get to where the actual reaction is, how it starts, why it’s there.
If I’m skipping over details, check out the Fetter Four and Five playlist and/or my Reactivity playlist. I’m not going into all the mechanics here.
But anyone doing this kind of work will find: when you get down to it, you touch a raw discomfort.
“I Can’t Stay Here”: Getting Used to the Threshold
At first “discomfort” might sound mild. It can be more like:
“I can’t stay here. This is too much. I have to run away.”
Everything wants to run away at first when you touch in.
The first part of what I do with people is just get them used to it.
Dip your toe in. If you have to run away for three weeks, that’s fine. Do what you’ve got to do.
But you’ll dip your toe back in. Then your foot. Then you start wading in until you’re waist deep and it’s like:
“Oh God, now I’m in it.”
And you can feel: this has been distracting you in a lot of ways, or it’s what you’ve been avoiding.
It might feel like the center of your trauma or associated with a certain trauma.
The mind offers every opportunity to get the hell out:
“I need to get away.”
“I need to distract.”
“What am I doing here?”
“This is silly.”
“Nothing’s happening.”
“This isn’t helpful.”
“I’m just confused.”
“Why wallow in my misery?”
That’s what thoughts do at first.
But you wait it out. Stay with it. Realize it is sensation. You can tolerate it.
You don’t have to like it, but you can stay for a few minutes.
That’s the first part: noticing, “Oh, I can actually stay here.”
The One Link to Investigate: “I Have to Do Something”
What usually materializes here is more than just a thought or belief. It’s not conceptual. It crystallizes into a complex of belief and action.
And the underlying thread is:
“I have to do something to relieve the discomfort.”
“I have to do something to relieve the discomfort.”
This came out of a conversation I had with someone today. It dawned on me this is a good way to explain what’s often being overlooked.
The belief is:
“If I don’t do something about this discomfort, I’m going to stay in discomfort. I have to do something or I’ll stay in it forever.”
But if you look closely, that’s not actually the case.
A certain assumption is being made that overshadows the whole thing. A lens forms here that says: “I need to do something about this.”
I’ve said before that a distinction that gets made in this work is the difference between:
“This is really uncomfortable and I don’t enjoy it.”
and
“What we think that automatically means: I need to do something about it.”
You don’t have to try to take away the “I don’t enjoy it” part. Some people get confused and try to make themselves like what they don’t like. That’s not going to work.
Rather:
This is uncomfortable.
I don’t enjoy it.
I don’t prefer it.
And the question is: does that actually mean I have to do something about it?
Do I have to ease the suffering right now? Ease the tension? Ease the discomfort?
That’s the question. That’s what we’re looking at.
Don’t Solve It Like a Riddle—Put Yourself There
If you think you have to do something about it, look at why.
Why do you think you have to do something?
What does that imply?
Another way of saying it—this is more of a clue—is:
What would happen if you didn’t?
And as I make this video, I’m hesitant: do I give the answer or let you discover it?
There’s value in figuring it out yourself. Value in seeing it.
So I would suggest: don’t approach this like a riddle you have to solve logically.
You’ve got to put yourself there.
Go into that discomfort using a trigger statement—something representative of something that actually triggered you.
Get down to that restless discomfort: “I have to get out. I have to do something. This is so uncomfortable. I really don’t like it.”
And right there, look: where does it turn into “I have to do something about it”?
If you can’t tell and it just feels like “I have to,” that’s fine.
Ask why.
Why do you have to do something about it?
What would happen if you didn’t?
What would be the result your mind says would happen?
And what would be the result actually—if you looked from a third-person point of view?
See where your sense of volition—“I have to do something”—starts to feel like a physical process.
Where is that link?
Why is it on you?
That’s what I want you to look into.
I’m not going to give an answer to this here.
Hopefully I didn’t give too little, but if you really get yourself into that discomfort, even investigating this—even if the answer doesn’t suddenly come—is very valuable.
It’s valuable to get down into that discomfort, that gap.