HUMAN DISCERNMENT
by Yessica Jennings
by Yessica Jennings
A locksmith story. A truth about trauma. A decision to stop passing it on.
Let me tell you a story from my real life.
I run a locksmith company.
One of our usual gigs is rekeying homes—changing locks so the next tenant can feel safe.
Usually it’s routine:
Show up. Change the locks.
Bless the doorframe with WD-40. Done.
But not this time.
We pulled up to the property and instantly felt it—
something was off.
The tenant was on edge.
His voice was sharp, shaky, full of panic:
“Don’t touch that.”
“What are you doing here?”
It felt like we had walked into a psychological thriller—
minus the popcorn, plus way too much cortisol.
His fear was loud.
Not rude—just terrified.
And the moment we approached, the energy snapped like a rubber band.
I had two locksmiths with me—both kind men.
But even they were rattled.
One of them was literally shaking.
That’s how intense this man’s energy was.
It activated all our nervous systems like we were FBI agents instead of techs in uniforms.
And then something clicked inside me.
My nursing instincts woke up.
(Yes—I used to be a registered nurse before I traded stethoscopes for screwdrivers.)
I’d seen this before in psych units:
This wasn’t aggression.
It was fear drowning in silence.
Maybe PTSD. Maybe untreated trauma. Maybe a mix of both.
So I asked one of my techs to wait in the van—not because he did anything wrong, but because
even one extra body nearby felt like a threat to that tenant.
We finished the job. We kept calm.
We left with all fingers intact. Barely.
But the emotional residue?
It lingered.
And honestly, part of me wished I could charge for “emotional pain and suffering.”
At least enough to cover tacos and a group chakra cleanse. 🌮🧘🏽♂️
That’s the thing about trauma:
It doesn’t stay quiet.
It spills into every room like hot coffee on white pants.
It zaps joy. It changes the air.
And if you’re not grounded,
you’ll start absorbing what was never yours to carry.
Back in the van, one of my techs let out a breath and said,
“That guy was something else.”
And I nodded.
“He has to live with that nervous system. We’re lucky we don’t carry that much pain.”
But here’s what I didn’t say out loud—what I knew in my spirit:
He’d likely been mugged. Violently robbed.
His trauma was reactivated by our presence.
We weren’t the threat—
we were the trigger.
That’s how trauma works.
It doesn’t react to you.
It reacts to memories buried in the body.
A knock on the door.
A stranger approaching.
To us, it’s routine.
To him, it was danger.
Most people are walking around with emotional bruises—
some from childhood, some from heartbreak, some inherited from generations of silence.
We call it baggage.
We joke about “issues.”
But let’s be honest:
They’re open wounds no one helped us clean.
When triggered?
They don’t whisper.
They scream.
Some people lash out.
Some ghost you and call it “boundaries.”
Some micromanage because control feels safer than vulnerability.
It’s not about the moment.
It’s about the bruise underneath.
🛑 This Section Isn’t About Fixing Them
That tenant? I couldn’t fix him.
And I wouldn’t try.
Healing is a full-time job—no PTO, no snacks, and zero dental. 😩
Some call it shadow work.
I call it: “Dealing with your own crap before it emotionally slaps someone else.”
But here’s what I am saying:
Just because someone hurt you
doesn’t mean you have to pass it on.
It’s not fair.
But it is powerful.
Because if we don’t interrupt the cycle,
we become what we swore we’d never be.
Holding onto anger might feel strong—like emotional CrossFit.
But really? It’s exhausting.
It’s like trying to swim toward peace with a backpack full of bricks.
Every betrayal = a stone.
Every grudge = more weight.
Every “K” reply in a heated group chat? Yep—another rock. 🙃
But here’s the miracle:
You can let go.
Not all at once.
But one rock, one breath, one brave moment at a time.
Babies are high-frequency beings.
They don’t carry trauma.
They don’t compare themselves on Instagram.
They’re present. Pure.
But what happens next?
Depends on the adults around them.
If those adults are walking wounds with Wi-Fi,
they’ll pull that child deeper into emotional density.
That’s why healing matters.
Not because you’re broken—
but because you’re the one who gets to say,
“The pain stops here.”
You can turn your pain into poison…
Or into purpose.
You can keep using the same emotional crayons that hurt you…
Or reach for something brighter.
Even if you’ve messed up before—(welcome to the club)—
you still get to decide:
It ends with me.
That tenant didn’t choose to be traumatized.
But whether or not he chose to heal it…
was his responsibility.
Mine?
Was to not pass it on.
Because when you become aware of your patterns,
and the pain behind others’—
You hold sacred power:
To stop passing down what you never asked to carry.
To rise.
To set the new tone.
✨ Real Talk Reflection
Ask yourself gently (and maybe with snacks nearby):
As someone who passed the pain on…
Or someone who said,
“It ends with me.”
Remember the emotional crayons from Section 4?
Some folks are still coloring with:
These frequencies don’t just hurt others—
they rot your inner peace.
When you match someone else’s chaos?
You just bought a ticket to their circus.
And guess what? They will make you perform.
But here’s your way out:
Say them out loud. Whisper them in the mirror.
Write them on a sticky note and cover your ex’s last message.
A Note from Yessica Jennings (Author):
I created these guides to be free—because healing should be accessible to everyone, no matter where they are or what they carry.
If this guide helped you, and if your finances allow it, you’re welcome to send love back through a small donation.
It’s never expected, always appreciated, and received with a full heart. 
Your presence here is already a gift. 🫶
If something in this section touched your heart, you’re welcome to share a gentle comment below.
Your words might be the sign someone else was waiting for. You are safe here. You are not alone. 🫶
2 responses to “Section 5: Wounded People Wound Others (But We Don’t Have To) – Guide 1”
I really love how this section weaves together a personal story, the locksmith encounter, with profound truths about trauma and healing. The idea that “wounded people wound others, but we don’t have to” resonates deeply. It reminds us that while pain can be passed on, we have the power to break the cycle.
The affirmations at the end were especially powerful. They emphasize the crucial choice to release pain and harmful patterns, highlighting that healing requires conscious intention. This section beautifully blends vulnerability with hope and encourages us to embrace growth and transformation.
I think that all the persons who read this section will feel identify, I like this part “Dealing with your own crap before it emotionally slaps someone else.” I think is not easy to avoid to reflect this to someone else that is part to be human jaja but is true that we have to work in our traumas, like you say brake the chains. I like the last part the affirmations if we repeat that to ous everyday will help to deal with our own trauma