Safe Spaces

I’m not a fan of the phrase, “Safe Space.”  It’s one of several often used buzz words that are thrown around so often that they’ve sort of lost all meaning.  “Holding space” for someone is another one.  It’s partly that they’re so overused, and partly that they’re sort of, I don’t know … fluffy.

But someone recently asked in a group I belong to what the phrase meant to us.  Specifically, what were our own safe spaces.  The interesting thing is that I didn’t hesitate for a second.  They were immediately in my mind.  Two actual physical locations, and one more people-centered.  I’m sure I could think of more, but these are the first ones that materialized.

Around my kitchen table, with my people.  The six of us have dinner together every night, and our conversations are legendary.  Last night, after trick-or-treating together, we hung around the table for ages, eating candy, chatting, laughing, and just generally enjoying each other’s company.  Our family conversations run the gamut from the light-hearted to the serious, and often always include things that would make your mother blush.  We’re open and honest and unfiltered.  We laugh.  A LOT. We make jokes that most people outside the family would never understand.  We have discussions that most people outside the family would be shocked (horrified?) to overhear.  We’re us.  And the true beauty of it, the thing that makes it such a safe space, is that it doesn’t leave the table.  It’s just us, in the moment, being the rawest versions of our true selves.  I never have any worries that something is going to leave the table and get into the wrong hands or ears.  I never have any worries that I can’t be anything other than completely open and honest.  I never have any worries that I’ll be judged. Granted, it took some time and reminders when the kids were younger, but now it just goes unspoken:  Our table is sacred.  A true safe space.

My therapist’s office. I was actually surprised to find this one on my list, since it is a place that is so associated with emotional turmoil.  But it’s a non-judgmental space.  I feel like I can say anything there – literally anything – and that it will not be judged.  It’s a place that holds all my deepest darkest secrets.  It knows every story, every wound.  It takes my demons and exposes them to light. It’s weird and it’s freeing and it’s powerful.  And despite the fact that it also holds many uncomfortable moments, painful moments, scary moments (because growth can be uncomfortable and painful and scary), it is in fact, safe.  Indescribably safe.  And while I talk about it like it’s the physical place that’s safe, it’s the person.  He makes me feel safe, even through the yuck.  Even through the really really big yuck.  And for that I’m so thankful.

With a few trusted girlfriends.  I’ve never been one for tons of friends.  Even in highschool, I had my one little group, and while I was perfectly friendly with lots of people, the ones that I really let in, the ones that I could truly call friends, were few.  The consummate introvert, I am slow to trust, and slow to connect.  But when I do connect, I connect hard.   I often feel like I have no one (mainly when I am not sleeping and/or depressed), and I have had some painfully fractured and downright broken relationships this past year.  The people that I trust are ever evolving, for a variety of reasons, but those couple of people who stick around for both the good times and in the muck and the mire are INVALUABLE.  I have people I can text when I’m having a bad day.  I have people who send me things to pick me up, and to outright HOLD me up when I need it.  I have people who get it.  (And so. few. people. get. it.)  I have people I can go to with the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between. People who will not judge me, who know me well enough to know that I don’t want advice:  just ears and shoulders. These few people… they make me feel safe.

Those are my safe spaces.  I’m sure there are more, but that’s where my list starts.  That’s where my feeling of safety starts.

For anyone who’s willing to share, I’d love to hear yours!

And if you’re not keeping up with me on Patreon: I am challenging myself to write a new blog post every day in November.  I have absolutely no specific plans, so it will essentially be a month of stream-of-consciousness, slice of life musings.  I would love it if you followed along. If you have something you’re dying for me to write about, send me a message, or find me on my Facebook page.

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The weather is (finally) cooling off, I’m sitting outside, and I’m watching the kids on scooters and skateboards.   Another safe space is clear: outside, with my feet firmly planted on the ground, and the fresh air on my skin.

Just like the other three “safe spaces”, nature never judges, never chastises.  It accepts you.  It just lets you….. be.

The ultimate in safety.

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4 Comments

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4 Responses to Safe Spaces

  1. VJ Hustede

    When I hear or see the words “safe space”, I think of designated classrooms/teachers, public libraries, even city buses – places for kids who don’t have safe spaces at home or who are bullied in school or are dealing with poverty or homelessness, the LGBTQ kid who needs support or just a safe place to spend a few hours, etc. So it doesn’t seem to me like a fluffy term at all. I almost didn’t read beyond your first paragraph because I thought I’d be disappointed. But I did read it all and I wasn’t disappointed.

    My own safe spaces: my home, the beach, anywhere with one of my best friends. Thanks for a thought-provoking post!

    • jen

      Thank you for continuing to read, even after you believed you’d be disappointed. I absolutely agree with what you said here…. those places are important and needed, and so I’m so glad that they are available for those who need them! I guess I’m just disappointed that the term has been so hijacked and used so loosely and flippantly for things other than what you mentioned. P.S. The beach sounds lovely right about now. 🙂

  2. Thank you for being one of my safest spaces. I mean that with all my heart.

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