This morning I was thinking about my grandparents. It started with gratitude for their existence. I started thinking about how I used to like it when we visited them. It occurred to me just this morning that, besides loving my grandparents, their farm was a safe place, my father would (probably) behave himself and I didn’t have to be on guard against “attack” while at my grandparents.
When I was in my one year marriage in the year 2000, one particular friends apartment was a safe place. My ex wife and I would go there for dinner and a movie and I knew that for those four hours of hanging out, my ex would probably not go bat shit crazy. In hindsight, I was more or less constantly under attack from her except for those hours. I was vey aware of this peaceful sanctuary, even then.
It occurrs to me that since then, there have been very few similar places. Even this house, my house, with me in it by myself isn’t, and I’ll have to figure out why.
There’s also “Safe People”, trustable. My 15 year ex wife started out “safe” (I’ll have to define what Safe means in my head too.) but changed to unsafe so subtly I didn’t notice the change. I’m aware that I’m probably not a “safe person” to other people either, by my own definition, whatever that is. I’m moody and sometimes crabby and perceive threat when there is none.
It’s odd that I’m just thinking about this now. I know someone has discussed the concept with me before, but I didn’t hear or understand or couldn’t apply it till now.
Bizarre.
