Safety

I was prompted by my therapist to write about my experiences with safety and feeling unsafe. Strong memories, associations, and such. I think it’s a really valuable thing to reflect about. In my life, being around people has been unsafe with few exceptions. I was not abused as a child thankfully. However, I was deprived of the essential emotional connection with my caregivers and taught that I had to be able to do everything on my own. This worldview has brought me a lot of pain. In our groups as humans, we always end up relying on others in both big ways and small. It can go unspoken and unnoticed. What comes to mind as an example is being in school or at work, and what each of you expects of the other(s). Your presence, contribution, jokes, habitual activities, who you like, who you don’t like, and so on. Just by existing around others in a shared space over time we build up expectations of behavior. If those expectations are unmet, that creates uncertainty in the observer. That’s me. I’m the observer. From a young age my belief was that I needed to protect myself from everybody. Given the smallest chance of me being in trouble or if I was placed at the center of attention, I was overwhelmed with dread. I wanted to disappear. It was the end of my world.

For most of my life I was not aware of this belief. I just lived like this. Constantly uncomfortable around people, especially strangers and those that obviously had some enviable social status. I was self-conscious, I ruminated over every thing that I could have said or done better. My friendships rarely felt secure, and I often thought to myself that I value the friendship more than they do, or that they only tolerated my presence.

What does it feel like in my body when I’m unsafe? I want to run and hide. I feel small and afraid. I’m desperate for a refuge. I’m terrified of messing something up. I feel the whole world judging my every action and word and finding me lacking. My body feels squeezed too tightly. I can’t settle down. Until the event passes or I remove myself, I am helpless.

What about when I’m safe? I have a wonderful friend who I trust completely. Being around him is healing. I feel more myself and that I can embody more of myself. I feel at ease and unbothered. My whole being feels lighter. I would even say I’m funnier and more playful. It’s a feeling of permission to just be me without worry. Before meeting him at age 23, I didn’t know what any of that felt like. I’ve had two opportunities this year to be with him for a week undisturbed. Both times I was overcome with gratitude. I felt more stable with him. It was eye-opening and amazing.

When I’m alone, I feel a different kind of safety. I lived alone for the first time in 2019 and it was so unexpectedly good. Previously, growing up in a full house or in an apartment with 5 roommates meant that I was always being perceived in some way. That means a chance for being perceived negatively. I had this constant voice watching what I did and working tirelessly to anticipate any potential fallout with the people I shared a space with. No one around meant no voice, and it was so peaceful. I was shocked. I didn’t know this was possible. Recently I attempted living with friends for a year, and that proved to be excruciating. I need a home to come back to that has no threats. Until I can create safety within myself, living with people is off the table. I don’t fully know how yet. Believing that my relationships will be intact even when I do something I see as “wrong” or “bad” is a start.

It really is a constant filter of good or bad. I do temporarily feel better when I say something helpful or funny. The lows are so much stronger than the highs though. When I decide I did something bad, I feel as though I’m awaiting judgment for my crimes and whatever their decision, I am powerless to contest.

I will revisit this. I want to think more on what living alone vs with people feels like. What tells me that I’m safe or unsafe, both within and without.