What is it to be ‘safe’? For me, it is complex, that’s what it is. It means knowing I have a roof over my head from month to month. It means knowing I have (any) transportation to get where I need to go. It means knowing I have enough food for the month. And just maybe, if I’m lucky, it means having TV and internet, and maybe phone. It means not being hurt by someone, by anyone, by any situation or encounter or environment.
Jeez, I guess I ask for a lot. I don’t think I have ever felt ‘safe’ in all those areas, ever, once in my life. I have always been on the run, fleeing from one ‘unsafe’ to the next, promised ‘safe’, only to find that it was also ‘unsafe’ in some way. What I really want is just once, once, to be ‘safe’ about everything. I feel like I have put in twice my number of years trying to find ‘safe’ while everyone else seems to put in half the amount of time and effort and they actually manage to achieve it. I am still looking for it. I am still running scared. And I’m getting older. And tireder. And slower. And don’t feel like playing this game anymore. I don’t feel like searching and running anymore. I want to rest. I want to sleep. I want to have something worth having. A reason to stay. To wake up every day.
I actually had a therapist to whom I confided that I felt I ran twice as far, twice as fast with twice the effort and ended up treading water, compared to other people. He agreed. He said it was true. He said those of us with PTSD, with BiPolar, with Trauma and Depression, have that as a common experience. That it takes a lot to make it all pay off. He wasn’t even able to assure me that all that work would ever pay off. That I would ever find that elusive ‘safe’.