I think, most of the time, my ideas on Safety are not the same as most ‘normal’ people.
I finally realized, with a jolt, that to me safety means not being treated badly by the people in my life. I realized that my late Dad was the only one in my life who never treated me badly. Safety also means not being in fear of something that could happen. When I am afraid of the power being shut off, I am not safe. When I don’t feel safe, either of something or someone, I am under so much stress that I am triggered. I am triggered in my Bipolar sense, and in my PTSD sense and sometimes in my DID sense. When I am not safe, those are the results/actions/consequences. I am working on learning to react appropriately, to not be triggered.
But I don’t know if I can keep going on like I have been. I am always afraid. I am never safe. And with my special brand of bad luck, things never work out. I really really believe that something has to change to make life tolerable. Every day is such torture. I want to just be safe.
For me, this means I really want be put in a mental health group home, or assisted living for mental health. I just need to feel, to know, that I am safe. Safe from people treating my abusively, safe from things that could happen (realistic fears, especially with my kind of bad luck). I want to know my residence won’t be taken from me, or my food. I want to know the people around me (staff, other residents) won’t hurt me. I just want so badly to be safe for once in my life. No matter how hard I have tried, I have never been safe.
And I feel such a relief thinking that I could be safe. But I also feel like I am ‘a loser’ for wanting that, or ‘lazy’ for wanting that, or just worthless if I can’t manage to take care of myself and meet my own needs. I had a therapist 5 years ago (when I was going thru a major meltdown, divorce and custody battle, and job loss) who told me I would regret being placed in a group home, because I am too well. I was really really not well when he said this. And it just made me think I was being a baby, being lazy, wanting to be in a group home. But I recently told my current therapist that this is still what I think would be best. And this time, I got agreement. She agrees that it would be best for me and she said she will talk with my mental health clinic case manager (who is the one who would put in motion and follow it until the clinic made a decision) to see if she can recommend that I be placed. I feel so relieved just after this conversation–even tho nothing has even been initiated yet. And I also still feel that I must be lazy, a failure as a human being, to even think about wanting this.
So, kinda, safe means to me to be in a place where I know physically, financially, and emotionally, I will be safe. Maybe, if I do this thing, move into a group home, I will finally be safe for the first time in my life. Maybe, it will be the first time since I was 8, that I won’t have to consider dying every day, as the only way to be safe. Maybe I’m wrong, and I really am a failure as a person, a parent. But it still seems that this would be the right place even if that’s true.