Dear Reader,
Yesterday I experienced an extensive range of emotions all triggered by starting a new service commitment. Throughout much of my life I refrained from doing new things out of fear of failure or being laughed at or ridiculed.
As a child, I would be full of tears as my mother dropped me off at summer camp. Psychologically there may be many reasons for the fear; my point here is the "trigger" of doing something new with little previous training or exposure to the task at hand.
In such moments, there always seemed no glimmer of hope that summer camp would be happy, joyous and rewarding. Over the years by stepping into new situations and learning new skills to cope with my fears, I have been able to reap the benefits of new jobs, new experiences, and new levels of happiness. Yet the anticipation of something new continues to trigger the 'catastrophical tape'.
It is precisely in such situations that I begin to look for glimmers. Glimmers such as recalling all the times that I have gotten out of my comfort zone and found great fun and joy in a trip or an event. Learning something new can carry the excitement of self-growth and discovery. The overall result is to build "confidence in confidence and confidence in me!" as the song rhymes.
While triggers can activate stress responses and hinder recovery, cultivating glimmers can support nervous system regulation, emotional healing, and long-term well-being. In recovery, we often learn to identify our triggers—the people, places, and memories that stir pain, anxiety, or the urge to escape. Triggers pull us into survival mode. They hijack the nervous system, shrink our sense of safety, and make healing feel just out of reach.
But what if we gave just as much attention to their opposite?
Glimmers are those small, almost fleeting moments that help the body feel safe again. The term comes from the work of Deb Dana, building on Stephen Porges’ Polyvagal Theory, which explains how our nervous system responds to danger—and to safety.
Where triggers activate our sympathetic system (fight or flight), glimmers awaken the ventral vagal state, the part of the nervous system that lets us rest, connect, and feel at ease in the world. It’s where we can breathe deeply. Speak calmly. Laugh. Pray. Trust. Love.
Glimmers might look like this: The warmth of the sun on your face. A favorite piece of music. The quiet presence of a friend. A meaningful prayer or a verse that stirs your spirit. The smile of a child. The feeling of being heard.
These moments are small, but they’re not insignificant. In fact, they are micro-moments of healing—invitations for the nervous system to remember what it feels like to be safe, to be at home in the body and the world. In recovery, we're taught to take things one day at a time. Glimmers invite us to take things one moment at a time—to notice the good, the safe, the sacred as it quietly enters our day. While trauma addiction may have trained our bodies to stay on high alert, glimmers gently retrain us to trust. They don't erase the past, but they offer us glimpses of the future: a future where we can live from a place of peace, rather than protection.
Scripture teaches us, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Stillness—true stillness—can only come when we feel safe enough to let our guard down. Glimmers are the gentle moments that lead us there.
So, today, look for the glimmers. Don’t just avoid the triggers. Let healing find you in the light, in the laughter, in the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
Because recovery is not just about avoiding danger. It’s about learning to live again.
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