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Yahoo
08-08-2025
- Yahoo
15 Reasons You Become So Triggered At The First Sign Of Conflict
Conflict is ugly, messy, and never-ending. It's that chaotic swirl that makes your heart race and your mind shut down, leaving you feeling like you're caught in an emotional tsunami. No one escapes its grasp, but some of us collapse under its weight like a soggy stack of cards. Why does it hit so hard? Here are 15 reasons conflict gets under your skin and makes you want to disappear. 1. You're Wired For Peace You grew up in a world where peace was the ultimate prize. Conflict feels like a violation, a jarring note in the symphony of life that you've been conditioned to avoid at all costs. According to a study by the University of California, Los Angeles, people with a strong desire for harmony tend to suffer more when faced with discord because it shatters their idealized world view. So when conflict appears, you freeze, hoping it will dissolve if you stay very still, very quiet. Your brain craves equilibrium, and it panics when that balance is disrupted. It reacts as if conflict is an existential threat, triggering the fight-or-flight response that's been honed since the dawn of humanity. But you weren't equipped with the tools to fight, so your response skews toward flight, even if that means shutting down. It's a survival tactic for a world that's anything but nurturing. 2. Your Negative Emotional Memories Are Triggered Conflict drags up the ghosts of arguments past, unearthing buried emotions you'd rather forget. When conflict arises, it's like your brain opens a filing cabinet of past grievances, feeding your anxiety with each remembered slight. You're trapped in a loop of emotional déjà vu, as old wounds resurface to color your perception of the present moment. You can't escape the echo of harsh words and stinging rebukes that linger long after the dust has settled. It paralyzes you, making you feel powerless and fragile, as if any response might shatter you entirely. Your emotional memory is a relentless beast, always ready to remind you why conflict feels like a losing game. You shut down because reliving old pain is the last thing you want. 3. You're A People Pleaser You've spent your whole life trying to be everything to everyone, contorting yourself into whatever shape someone needs you to be. Conflict threatens that delicate balance, exposing the raw truth that you can't please everyone. According to Dr. Harriet Braiker, a psychologist and author of *The Disease to Please*, people pleasing is rooted in a deep-seated fear of rejection and failure—making conflict feel like a personal indictment. Every clash feels like a failure of your duty to keep everyone happy, reinforcing feelings of inadequacy. You shut down because the conflict is a mirror reflecting back all the ways you believe you're coming up short. You'd rather retreat into a cocoon of silence than deal with the wreckage of unmet expectations and inevitable disappointment. 4. You Feel Uneasy With Vulnerability Opening up in conflict feels like wearing your heart on your sleeve in a battlefield. It breeds fear that your vulnerabilities will be exploited, leaving you exposed and defenseless. You shut down because silence feels safer than the risk of being torn apart by sharp words and harsh judgments. Your mind plays tricks, convincing you that guarding your emotions is the only way to survive. Vulnerability is a dicey gamble you're not willing to take. It's easier to withdraw into yourself, putting up walls instead of bridges. In your silence, you find a false sense of security, even if it means isolation. 5. You Deplore Power Dynamics You've been on the losing end of power plays before, and conflict feels like a rerun you're tired of watching. The imbalance of power can make standing your ground seem impossible, leaving you feeling small and voiceless. A study by the American Psychological Association found that perceived powerlessness can exacerbate stress responses, making conflict feel even more insurmountable. When your voice feels insignificant, shutting down becomes the path of least resistance. You retreat, not necessarily because you want to, but because it feels like the only option. The power dynamics of conflict can crush your spirit, convincing you that silence is your only currency. You shut down because speaking up feels like speaking into a void. 6. You're Afraid Of The Fallout The aftermath of conflict looms large in your mind, overshadowing the present moment. You fear the repercussions, the fractures in relationships that might never heal. Conflict feels like a grenade, and you're terrified of pulling the pin, even accidentally. You shut down to avoid the chaos that follows when things explode. Your imagination runs wild with worst-case scenarios, paralyzing you with fear of what might come next. The cleanup feels daunting, and you're not sure you have the emotional energy to deal with the wreckage. By staying silent, you hope to keep the peace, even if it's a fragile, tentative one. You shut down to protect yourself from the storm you dread. 7. You Weren't Taught How To Resolve Conflict Conflict is an art you never learned, leaving you ill-equipped to navigate its turbulent waters. Constructive disagreement wasn't modeled for you; instead, you learned to either avoid or escalate, with nothing in between. Research from social psychologist Dr. John Gottman suggests that unresolved conflict can lead to long-term relational distress, underscoring the importance of healthy conflict management skills. Without a blueprint, conflict feels like a minefield, with disaster lurking at every step. You shut down because you're terrified of making things worse, of saying the wrong thing and causing irreparable harm. You've never been taught how to wield your words like a scalpel, so you remain silent instead. For you, conflict is a battleground where every move feels fraught with peril. 8. Your Inner Critic Makes You Feel Like It's Your Fault Conflict amplifies the voice inside your head that tells you you're not enough. The inner critic seizes on every argument, using it as evidence to reinforce its narrative of failure and inadequacy. You shut down because engaging in conflict feels like a confirmation of all the harsh judgments you already believe about yourself. Your mind is a minefield of self-doubt, making it difficult to articulate your thoughts and feelings. You freeze, overwhelmed by the cacophony of negativity that drowns out your voice. Conflict becomes a confrontation not just with others, but with the unrelenting critic within. Silence hides the turmoil, but it never truly quells the storm. 9. You Become Overwhelmed By Uncomfortable Emotions Conflict triggers a tidal wave of emotion that threatens to sweep you away. The intensity is paralyzing, leaving you struggling to find words amidst the chaos. You shut down because expressing yourself feels impossible when you're drowning in a sea of feelings. Your emotions swirl in a vortex, making it hard to breathe, let alone speak. You want to find the calm in the storm, but it eludes you, leaving you feeling lost and out of control. By retreating, you hope to regain your footing, to find a moment of peace amid the emotional upheaval. You shut down because it feels like the only way to survive the flood. 10. You've Been Burned Before Past conflicts have left scars that still sting when touched. The wounds didn't heal; they festered, leaving you wary and distrustful. You shut down because you've learned that engagement often leads to pain, and your heart can't take another blow. Memories of betrayal and broken trust haunt you, coloring your approach to conflict. You're reluctant to open old wounds, to risk tearing them wider in the heat of battle. The fear of getting hurt again keeps you silent, hopeful that avoidance will shield you from further harm. You shut down because the cost of confrontation feels too high. 11. You Crave Control In conflict, control slips through your fingers like sand, leaving you desperate to regain your grip. You loathe the unpredictability, the chaos that spirals beyond your grasp. You shut down because it feels like the only way to maintain a semblance of control in an uncontrollable situation. Your mind races, trying to anticipate every move, but conflict is a game without rules. The lack of control is disorienting, making you feel vulnerable and exposed. In your silence, you find a false sense of stability, a refuge from the unpredictable nature of conflict. You shut down to shield yourself from the chaos you can't control. 12. You're Exhausted From Chaos Conflict is draining; it siphons your energy until you're running on fumes. The emotional toll is immense, leaving you feeling depleted and overwhelmed. You shut down because you don't have the energy to engage, to battle through the noise and chaos. Every argument saps your strength, making it harder to face the next challenge. You're tired of the fight, tired of the emotional roller coaster that leaves you reeling. Silence becomes your safe haven, a place to rest and recover from the emotional barrage. You shut down because, sometimes, peace feels better than winning. 13. You're Afraid Of Losing Conflict feels like a contest, and you dread coming out on the losing end. The fear of failure looms large, leaving you paralyzed and silent. You shut down because the possibility of defeat is more than your fragile self-esteem can bear. Your competitive nature wars with your fear, creating a storm of anxiety that clouds your judgment. You can't bear the thought of losing face, of admitting defeat in the heat of battle. Silence offers a respite, a way to avoid the sting of loss, even if it means forfeiting the fight. You shut down to protect yourself from the possibility of failure. 14. You Consider The Stakes Too High In conflict, everything feels like it's on the line: relationships, reputations, sanity. The weight of the stakes crushes you, making every word feel like a gamble. You shut down because the risk of losing it all is too terrifying to face. The pressure to get it right, to say the perfect thing, is overwhelming. You fear that one wrong move could tip the scales, sending everything spiraling out of control. In your silence, you find a measure of safety, a way to hold onto what matters most. You shut down because the stakes feel too high to risk losing everything. 15. You Doubt Your Worth And Voice Beneath the surface lies an insidious belief that you're not worthy of being heard. This doubt poisons your confidence, eroding your ability to stand firm in conflict. You shut down because you've bought into the lie that your voice doesn't matter. Every argument feels like a confirmation of your worst fears, a reminder of your perceived inadequacy. You shrink away, convinced that silence is preferable to the exposure of your deepest insecurities. In your silence, you find a refuge, a place to hide from the harsh glare of conflict. You shut down because it feels safer than confronting the worth you struggle to see in yourself. Solve the daily Crossword
Business Insider
23-07-2025
- Business Insider
Growing up, I called myself Chinese. A high school project helped me understand the difference.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Ginny Wu, 32, a Taiwanese-American UCLA graduate living in Taiwan. Her words have been edited for length and clarity. For my dad's generation, the American dream was about building a better future for their kids. My uncle was the first in his family to get a green card. He eventually sponsored his siblings, including my dad, to leave Taiwan and move to the US. I was born and raised in the States, and never expected that, decades later, I'd end up moving in the opposite direction — back to Taiwan, where their journey had begun. I grew up in a small town Both of my parents are from Taitung, a rural county in southeastern Taiwan. My paternal grandpa was the county magistrate there, and my grandma ran a rice mill business. My dad moved to America in the late 1970s. A job opportunity brought him to Santa Clara, before he moved to Anaheim and then Texas, where he co-ran a motel and even managed an emu ranch. He traveled back to Taiwan to get married, and in 1988, my mom joined him in the US. I was born and raised in Norco, a small, rural town in Southern California. My dad loved the countryside and bought a house there. The town wasn't very diverse, and I was often one of just a few Asian kids in my class. I feel fortunate that I never really experienced racism growing up. At home, we spoke Mandarin. I hated studying the language as a kid, but now I'm grateful — I use Mandarin every day. An assignment changed the way I view identity Growing up, I didn't think much about what being Asian actually meant. I'd say I was Chinese — partly because we spoke it at home, partly because that's what teachers checked on school forms. That changed in high school, when I started the International Baccalaureate program. I wrote my extended essay on how Japanese colonization shaped Taiwanese identity. None of my previous history classes had covered that Taiwan was occupied by Japan for 50 years — my parents never went through it in depth either But the topic hit home. It helped explain why my dad said Japanese phrases before meals, and why my parents used Japanese loanwords without realizing. Exploring the Japanese influences helped me make sense of it all. Exploring that influence deepened my understanding of Taiwan's story, and my own. That essay planted a seed. A few months after graduating from UCLA with a degree in economics, I was hired by Northrop Grumman, an aerospace and defense company. Over the next four years, I worked as a financial analyst in a professional development program rotation. In my last rotation, I pivoted to a different track, taking on a role as a business process analyst in aerospace systems. Despite having a stable job, I started to feel boxed in. I'd never lived anywhere else, and I wanted to see what life outside Southern California could be like. The first move That desire led me to join Anchor Taiwan, a one-month startup immersion program, in 2018. I took time off work to attend, and it changed everything. Experiencing Taiwan as an adult, without my parents and surrounded by peers, helped me imagine building a life here. By the end of the year, I'd quit my job, packed up, and moved to Taipei. I didn't have a job lined up at first. I enrolled in Mandarin classes while job hunting and eventually landed a role at Taiwan Startup Stadium. That was my entry point into the local tech world. When I told my parents I was moving, my mom wasn't thrilled. Having grown up during financially unstable times in Taiwan, she valued career stability and didn't love the idea of me quitting. But she also knew I hadn't felt fulfilled. While they weren't exactly enthusiastic, they were supportive. I was lucky to have extended family in Taiwan — I stayed at my aunt's place while getting settled. I also applied for full Taiwanese citizenship so I could vote and now have my Taiwan ID. Taipei reshaped me I used to be a homebody, like my parents, but the city has drawn out a more social, spontaneous side. My closest friends are mostly locals who speak incredible English, and I feel more connected to my extended family than ever. Work-wise, the transition's actually been smoother than I thought. I'm not at a traditional local company, though — I've heard those can be pretty hierarchical and intense. Taipei has pushed me out of my bubble in the best way. It's clean, convenient, and safe. I walk or bike alone at night without a second thought. I take the bus to work, meet friends for dinner or to go rock climbing, and sometimes jog around the track near my office. Of course, there are things I miss about the US. My parents — now in their 70s and 80s — are still there, and they've never visited me in Taiwan. But I used to get anxious about the smallest things, like mailing a package or ordering a meal. Now, I navigate life in a new language, in a system I didn't grow up in. I've built something from scratch, and that feels like home. I dream of launching a business here one day.
Los Angeles Times
14-07-2025
- Los Angeles Times
UCLA vs. UC Berkeley: Which California institution is the best in the country?
Who's really the No. 1 public university in the country? UCLA and UC Berkeley have staked their claims on social media after U.S. News and World Report's global rankings placed Berkeley as the top U.S. public university. Technically, it ranked No. 6, behind five private campuses, including Harvard, MIT and Stanford. But being the top public university on the global list was enough for Berkeley. It wasn't long before an influx of celebratory boasts spread on social media saluting the oldest UC campus. UCLA said not so fast. 'Still #1' went up on UCLA's TikTok account, citing another U.S. News national ranking of public universities that came out nine months ago, putting the Bruins in the top spot among public campuses in the nation. Fans and alumni of both schools have been sparring ever since, including proud Berkeley alum and Essential California writer Jim Rainey, who was too biased to write about this himself. It depends on which list you're referring to. As my colleague Jaweed Kaleem wrote, the U.S. News and World Report rankings differ in methodology and scope. The global list — which looks at 2,250 institutions both private and public — focused on academic research, including citations and regional reputation. On that list, UCLA ranked as the third-best public university in the country, behind the University of Washington in Seattle. Yet on the national list of public colleges and universities, UCLA takes first place, with Berkeley trailing behind it at No. 2. The national list homed in on the undergraduate experience at 1,500 campuses, weighing graduation rates, first-year retention, how well students from lower-income families perform, and the results of 'peer assessment surveys' sent to college presidents, provosts and deans of admissions. Although the rankings are popular as many campuses around the country covet the lists, they are controversial. Over the years, several prominent professional schools have pulled out of providing data to the U.S. News law school rankings. In 2022, UCLA's and UC Irvine's law school deans said they'd boycott the rankings because of the group's methodology, which they said disincentivized schools from supporting public service careers for their grads. In the competing world of list-makers, Berkeley beats Westwood overall. Sorry, UCLA. I promise Jim had nothing to do with this. Both campuses are great places to study. The schools share a lot more in common than not. After all, a bruin is a bear. Sergio Carabarin writes: 'Pfeiffer Beach in Big Sur.' Wayne Bernhardson writes: 'Sculptured Beach, Point Reyes National Seashore.' Email us at essentialcalifornia@ and your response might appear in the newsletter this week. Today's great photo is from Times photographer Myung J. Chun at AGWC Rockin' Rescue animal adoption center in Woodland Hills, which has taken in pets left behind after ICE raids. Jim Rainey, staff writerDiamy Wang, homepage internIzzy Nunes, audience internKevinisha Walker, multiplatform editorAndrew Campa, Sunday writerKarim Doumar, head of newsletters How can we make this newsletter more useful? Send comments to essentialcalifornia@ Check our top stories, topics and the latest articles on
