A Safe Place

This past week at therapy, Robin and I started discussing ways for me to cope with my PTSD during the upcoming trial of Dzokhar Tsarnaev.

I had told her weeks ago how worried I am about potentially having a panic attack while at work. Being surrounded by the events being replayed in live tweets from court, having to write stories based on it for months on end... not exactly the easiest thing to deal with.

Robin found a method she thought may work for me, as well as let me use my creativity. She asked me to sit down, and imagine the places I feel safe. Where can I find solace when in despair? Is there anyone with me? What is it about it that makes me feel protected? Here's what I discovered.

The Farm House
Many times my mind will take me back to where I grew up.

First, I see the back yard as if I were sitting on top of my old swing set. The big green grassy area, leading to the old chicken coop. Right behind that, my tree house, which was just a large tree that had been struck by lightning. The wood pile to the right, just before the acres of land leading to the tree line.

Next, I'm standing in my tree house. The half of the tree that had fallen. The burn marks. The bits of broken glass bottles we had found in the woods. The planks of wood we used for shelves. Boysenberries from the bush that blended in with the fallen tree. The limbs of the tree, surrounding me in a blanket of safety. I can hear the leaves rustling in the wind, and feel the dirt on my bare feet.

Then there is the lilacs bushes. Our farm house had the biggest, most beautiful lilac bushes I had ever seen. There was a pair though right next to our house that joined together in a colorful dance. Where they joined left the perfect amount of room for my child-sized body to fit in. It was always used in games as the secret entrance to a new world. A place where my imagination could roam free.

The Cabin
Another place I like to visualize is the view from the porch of my Uncle's old cabin. It was on one of the Great Lakes, sitting high above the water. There was a white fence along the cliff, lined with flowers. I can feel the breeze coming off the lake. The sound of the seagulls. How mesmerized I was with the massive container ships that would pass in the distance. I could sit and stare at the water for hours in silence. That's saying a lot for this talker.

The Garden
My mind also takes me to my Grandma's garden when I need a safe place. It was a small garden that wrapped around the fence in her back yard, but to me, it was big and impressive. Colorful roses, red geraniums, black-eyed susans... all lining the metal fence, leading to the tall wooden red fence in the back. The grass here was always like a soft blanket on my feet. Protection from the hot cement of the driveway on summer days. The sun always seemed to hit her yard, even though there were so many trees around it. She always had a planter hanging from the garage back there with more geraniums flowing over the edges. And every Spring, a bird would inevitably build there nest in there. A perfect place to hide their eggs from the elements and prey, but just reachable for me to sneak a peek when the babies were born. It never felt like we were in the city.

After Thoughts
What I learned was the places I feel safe are all places from my past. Places that had significant meaning to me in some way or another. Places of great joy.

Not only that, but when I described all these places to Robin, I kept saying "we." When she asked who I was talking about, I told her it all depended on the location. At the Farm House, it's Jen, my best friend growing up. At the Cabin, it's Uncle Richard. In the Garden, it's of course Grandma. And at every location, my family... Mom, Dad, Jay and Phil. Now I never see them when I visualize these places, but I know they are there. I feel their presence, and that helps calm me.

I can't say I see one place more than another when I shut my eyes. Nor do I have a true reason for why these places come to mind. I could've picked anything, even created my own safe place. Instead, I went back to where as a child I felt overwhelmed by how extraordinary my surroundings were. Places where my imagination ran free. Places where the pain of the world never reached me. That's where I feel safe.