Don't Bang Me So Hard

Harnessing Triggers: A Path to Healing and Happiness

Jun 18, 2023

“Don’t bang me so hard,” my black-belt partner, Senpai Bart, cautioned me. “Ease up and try using a little finesse.”

Several times over the last six months, other fellow karatekas (students) also told me to back off and not block and punch so forcefully. The feedback always came from a senior belt, twice from women, and in this case, it was Senpai Bart who broke the flow of our training to kindly, emphatically, tell me to take it down a few notches and not hit so hard.

Thirty-seven years ago, two things would have been vastly different when I first started training at Seido Karate’s Honbu (world headquarters) under founder and grand master, Kaicho Tadashi Nakamura.

The first is that as a junior belt, I would never be paired with a senior black belt. And two, if by chance I was paired with a black belt and executed a hard block or punch with the same intention and intensity I had used previously on Senpai Bart, the return blow would have been swift, sending me reeling backward to the floor, leaving a mark I would nurse for several days. Lessons in karate are often learned hard.

Times have changed. I have changed. I’m now 69, married almost 34 years, have two married children, one grandchild, and am undoubtedly the oldest student training at Sun Dragon Martial Arts, an LGBTQ-friendly dojo (martial arts school) in Austin, Texas. I am calmer, kinder, less flexible, more resilient, and self-aware.

After three decades, I’ve returned to the dojo, eager to train. What I wasn’t expecting was being triggered by PTSD, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

I returned to karate training in October of 2022. After eight months of training two to three times a week, I graduated from a white belt, the entry-level designation, to an advanced blue belt. Some of my previous karate training came back to me.

I still love a full-throated Kiai, a short, intense warrior yell. I remember to acknowledge my Sensei (teacher) with a loud “Osu” (pronounced “oss.”). I still get butterflies before I walk in the dojo door. I sometimes forget proper training etiquette and say, “Yes, Ma’am,” instead of, “Osu, Sensei!”

I still lose my focus during training, thinking about doughnuts, tattoos, the time remaining before the class is over, money, sex, politics, puppy dogs, and just about anything other than what I should be focusing on. Balance and memory are, well, not the same as thirty years ago. My flabby arms and belly take me aback when I glance at myself in the dojo’s floor-to-ceiling mirrors. I prefer punches to kicks (those stiff hips), day classes, and fewer pushups. I also discovered unresolved fear and anger from childhood abuse remain embedded in my cells.

As muscle memory from my former karate training returned, so unexpectedly did a visceral connection to my shame and physical pain resulting from actions perpetrated on me during my first seventeen years of life. In one reality, I’m an out-of-shape senior citizen returning to karate, and in a parallel universe, I’m a 12-year-old getting pummeled by my old man.

I’m an out-of-shape senior citizen returning to karate, and in a parallel universe, I’m a 12-year-old getting pummeled by my old man.

Damnit. I thought after years of intense therapy, being a card-carrying member of ACA (Adult Children of Alcoholics and Dysfunctional Families), a fabulous family life, a successful career, and being Christ-centered, along with innumerable moments of happiness, I thought the PTSD of my past trauma and abuse was in check. Nope. Almost without realizing I was flashing back, I numbed out several times during my karate training and unwittingly fought back against my childhood perpetrators.

Breathe. Breathe.

I caught myself and came current. Relatively quickly, I left my trauma trance and recognized what triggered me. I’ve spent my life working through this shit. I’ve spent countless hours and tens of thousands of dollars in therapy, made more stupid mistakes than I can remember, and experienced tons of shame, sleepless nights, and dark, dark times. I’ve been taught to identify the signs of PTSD. I’ve learned, when triggered, to stop, pause, breathe, and not react. I now teach leaders and couples how to be actors, not reactors. I also wrote a book, One Less. One More., on daily steps toward finding peace and happiness. But like you, I’m just human, and often, in varying degrees, I get triggered. And then I remember it’s not that you get knocked down that matters; it’s how quickly you get back up.

It’s not that you get knocked down that matters; it’s how quickly you get back up.

Long ago, I consciously decided to be a victor, not a victim. But don’t for a second think that it will ever be easy if you, too, choose this path of recovery and healing. Every day will be challenging; some days are more challenging than others.

Here’s my promise to you: If you’re willing to consider you were born with a purpose, to live your life fully, and starting now, slowly begin dropping the negative things in your life that no longer work for you or feel good, and begin filling your life with positive things that inspire and fulfill you, your life will change for the better.

Are you repressing anger, and how are you holding it? To be happy and at peace, we must understand the origins of our anger and triggers. At first blush, road rage isn’t about the person cutting you off. Making a snarky remark to your partner is likely not about the toilet paper coming over the top or out from the bottom. Or in my case, being aggressive in karate training had nothing to do with my karate training.

We’ll talk about forgiveness and self-compassion another time, but for now, healthy anger, although subjective, can be a force for change. But don’t kid yourself; anger is never an excuse for violence, aggression, brutality, or the intention to harm another living being.

Anger is never an excuse for violence, aggression, brutality, or the intention to harm another living being.

Confucius said, “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves…”

We’re all on a journey, albeit too short. We all want to live longer, live better. Happiness is not the destination. Happiness is a by-product of doing less of what no longer works or feels good and doing more of those things that inspire and fulfill you daily.

I returned to karate, was triggered by PTSD, and came out the other side of the episode more loving and compassionate to myself and others. It wasn’t the first time I had to put on my detective hat and figure out what was truly happening, and it won’t be the last. What’s triggering you? And what do you need to become less reactive?

Until next time, walk in love and light, my friend. We’re #bettertogether.

Disclaimer: The information provided here in One Less. One More. is intended to offer general suggestions and insights. It is not a substitute for personalized guidance from a mental health professional, particularly when dealing with healing from trauma or addressing aggression-related issues. If you suffer from trauma-related PTSD, it is strongly recommended that you consult with a qualified professional who can provide tailored advice based on your specific circumstances. Remember, each individual's situation is unique, and seeking professional support is crucial for a comprehensive understanding and effective management of anger. It does get better.

Robbie Vorhaus

Robbie Vorhaus is a heart-centered leadership coach, crisis and reputation management strategist, media contributor, best-selling author, entrepreneur, ordained minister, and LGBTQ-friendly wedding officiant based in Austin, Texas. He is happily married to the artist, Candace Connors Vorhaus.