Where do you go to be completely and utterly yourself? Where do you go to feel completely and utterly safe?
Like most little kids, when I was younger, my sister and I used to build blanket forts. We would pull all of the sheets, blankets and pillows out of linen closets and trunks, and using books and knots, drawers and hangers, we would create an elaborate and delicate contraption. Truthfully, it would be generous to call what we made a fort. Part teepee, part engineering miracle, it became the home to late-night reading and giddy sleepovers. Dark, cozy and stuffed with pillows, it was hard not to feel safe, held in the comfort of that space.
As an adult, you would think that I would have outgrown that feeling. Fortunately, however, I have married a man who brings out the childlike playfulness in me and provides that same feeling of wholly-held safety. Now, rather than a place, I find it in a person. A person who, yes, still builds blanket forts with me. A person who knows the moment that I feel anxious or triggered or uneasy and moves towards me, rather than away.
When I think about where I can go to be completely and utterly safe, I think of home. I think of the man that I married. I think of the amazing soul sisters that are scattered across the U.S. who, at the drop of a hat, will hold space for me. I think of late-night reading under the covers and naps in the sunshine. Those spaces where I can be wholly and utterly vulnerable without fear, completely held in safety and security and warmth.