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Where do I Feel Safe?

 

ONE OF Nine Questions for Journaling and Introspection – Where do I Feel Safe

@vanessaandheriphone

 I was watching a video by Vanessa Laterza on TikTok called Nine Questions where she poses nine questions to inspire journaling and introspection.

Out of the nine questions, one really stood out as a topic to explore.  The question at first seemed simple enough to answer.  But when thinking of the response, I found it was a much more complex question.  One that I needed to dig deep and explore.  The question was “Where do I Feel Safe?”

When I thought of the question, the first thing that came to mind was ‘in Walter’s arms.’  Immediately I felt a knot in my throat and the walls of my chest tighten around my heart, squeezing all the air out of my lungs.  Then followed emotions encircling me like a cyclone. I couldn’t answer “where do I feel safe”.  Thoughts swirled around me, the intensity uprooting questions I needed to explore.

I first tried to think back to moments where I could honestly say that I truly felt safe.  I suppose it was before I learned about life and what kinds of dangers can lurk in the shadows.  Back to when movies monsters and the boogey man under the bed were what nightmares were made of.  If I woke up from a bad dream, I knew I’d be safe with Mom and Dad.  They were only across the hall from my room. 

Like yesterday, I can easily recall those nights.  First, I’d have to gather the courage to crawl out from underneath my blankets, then prepare to make the mad dash from my bed, out the door, across the hall to my parents’ room, and hop up on their bed.  My eyes would scan the dark room, looking for potential danger.  Could there be a monster in that corner, peeking at me through the crack between the closet doors, or would hands reach out from under my bed?  I’d create an escape plan, from where to place my feet on the floor to reduce the chance of being grabbed.  Next, take a few deep breaths, gather up the courage, then make the mad dash, jumping off the bed onto the area rug, then run across the cold hardwood floor out my door, across the hall and scramble all the way up on my parents’ bed, crawling over Mom to snuggle in between them.  I could then breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I was safe, no monster or boogey man would ever chance stepping near us.

As I grew, my small world grew.  From the perimeters of my neighborhood, to encompass the world beyond my parents’ purview.  Dangers existed beyond the imaginary monsters under my bed. Boogey men were real, not just those which lived in our TV.  From a child growing into adulthood, I learned that danger came in many forms: people, actions, words.  Malice incites fear and insecurity.

Since reading the question “where do I feel safe”, I ‘ve spent considerable time trying to scan through the decades, searching for another moment which conjures a sense of feeling safe.  There may be small snippets throughout the years, but nothing exceptional, nor complete.  Except for my time with Walter.

I remember when Walter and I first met, and how when he first put his arms around me for our first dance.  He gently enveloped me, emanating such a sense of security.  To describe it would be a protective, calming strength.  As our relationship grew, the more we shared not just time together, but thoughts, worries and insecurities.  Trust quickly built – solid, supportive, judgement-free.  The days where I felt weak, vulnerable, spent; I just needed to hear his calming voice, even if only over the phone, I could feel the stress, that pressure in my chest wane as he comforted me.

Through Walter, I learned how to be completely vulnerable.  So freeing.  I could be as silly as I wanted, could bare all, body,  mind, and soul, knowing that he accepted every bit of me without judgement, and with love.  I knew without a doubt that he would always protect me, comfort me, encourage me.  Walter would be there to scare away the monsters;  pick me up if I fell, brush off any negativity and offer his shoulder to lean on so I could carry on.

After his death, there huge void in my chest, the spot he once filled.  My comfort, my security gone with his last breath, leaving me weak, vulnerable.  Over time, as I worked through my grief, step by step, the overwhelming void started to shrink as it gradually filled with memories of him, of us.  With each flip of the page on the calendar, my strength grew, creating a new sense of self.  As months turned to years, I’ve worked to build a solid foundation for myself.  Using Walter’s words, I try to encourage, comfort, and reassure myself.  I use those softer words to be kinder, less judgmental.  

Will I ever feel safe within another’s arms?  I really couldn’t say, as I have no idea what the future holds.  What I do know is that I've developed a desire to experience, to explore.  To accept with grace and enjoy what fate has to offer.    

The emotion and fluster caused by the question “where do I feel safe” has waned with each word I write.  Each sentence brought me closer to my answer.  I am strong. I am brave.  I strive to be true, be vulnerable, yet find the balance to feel safe, secure, and confident in myself.  I can scare away the monsters from under my own bed. 

Where do I feel safe?  The answer is within me. 


April 8, 2024


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