What Makes You Feel Safe?

Safety is a funny thing because it doesn’t always look the way we think it will.

Sometimes safety is a person. Sometimes it’s money in the bank. Sometimes it’s knowing the bills are paid and the roof isn’t leaking.

And apparently, sometimes it’s knowing there are three extra packages of toilet paper in the basement.

The more Terry and I talked about what makes us feel safe, the more I realized how many little things I do every day that are really about creating a sense of security.

I like backups.

Toilet paper, soap, toothpaste, laundry detergent. I don’t need 47 bottles of shampoo lined up in the garage, but I definitely feel better knowing we aren’t going to completely run out of something we use every day.

COVID probably added another layer to that for a lot of us. Remember when finding toilet paper felt like winning the lottery? Suddenly things we had never thought twice about became things we weren’t sure we could get.

But for me, I think some of it goes back even further than that.

There is something calming about knowing the basics are handled. It’s one less thing that can go wrong. One less problem I have to solve. One less moment of, “Oh crap, now what?”

And I’ve realized I feel the same way about having a car.

For years, especially as a single mom, having my own vehicle wasn’t just about transportation. It meant that if something happened, I could go. If one of my kids got sick in the middle of the night, I could get them somewhere. If there was an emergency, I wasn’t waiting for someone else to come save the day.

I had keys. I had a car. I could handle it.

That feeling sticks with you.

Even now, there’s something about being far away from home or not having easy access to transportation that can make me feel a little unsettled. Logically, I know I’m fine. But somewhere in my brain is still that woman who wants to know, “If something happens, can I get where I need to go?”

Then our conversation got even more interesting because I realized that certain DAYS make me feel safer than others.

Some people have the Sunday scaries. I almost have the opposite.

Sunday night can actually feel like relief to me because Monday is coming. The world is opening back up. Doctors’ offices are open. Businesses are open. People are working. If something goes wrong, there are options.

Friday can sometimes give me the opposite feeling. It’s like my brain knows we’re heading into a stretch where things might be harder to access.

And don’t even get me started on holidays.

Thanksgiving feels warm and familiar to me. New Year’s Eve? Completely different feeling.

That’s the strange thing about our brains. We attach memories and emotions to dates, places, people and routines without necessarily realizing we’re doing it. Then one day you start talking about why Saturday night feels different than Saturday afternoon and think, “Wait. Where did THAT come from?”

The same thing happens in our house.

We have alarms. Carbon monoxide detectors. Water sensors. A backup sump pump. Flashlights that live in specific places.

I like knowing there’s a plan.

And maybe that’s really what I’m learning about myself.

Safety, for me, has a lot to do with knowing I have options.

I can get somewhere if I need to. We have another one if we run out. There’s a backup if that one fails. I know where the flashlight is. I know who I can call.

And then there are the people.

The people who make you feel like you don’t have to be on high alert. The people you trust to stay, help, notice and show up. Your spouse. Your family. Your closest friends. Even the people you work or perform with long enough that somewhere along the way they become part of your safe circle too.

Which may also explain why I hate an Irish goodbye. 😂

Just tell me you’re leaving!

I don’t need a 20-minute farewell, but apparently my brain would appreciate confirmation that you didn’t disappear into the night.

What started as a conversation about safety ended up making me look at a whole bunch of my own little quirks differently.

Some of the things we call habits, preferences or even anxiety might actually be ways we’ve learned to create security for ourselves.

And I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing.

The question I’m starting to ask myself is whether the things I do to feel safe are actually helping me feel more peaceful, or whether they’re making my world smaller.

Because there’s a difference.

Having an extra tube of toothpaste in the cabinet? Peace.

Feeling like I can’t enjoy a trip because I’m too far away from home? That might be something worth paying attention to.

Maybe the goal isn’t to stop needing safety.

Maybe it’s simply understanding what safety means to us, where those needs came from, and which ones are still serving us today.

So now I’m curious.

What’s something you do that makes you feel safe that other people might not even think twice about?

T