Recently,
I realized I never really had the luxury to panic. The moment something goes
wrong, a part of me automatically switches into survival mode. Think first.
Solve it. Stay calm. Hold yourself together. There never seems to be enough
space to simply say, “I’m scared”. And perhaps what made me feel lonelier
was realizing that I didn’t know who I could say it to.
I
never wanted someone to solve my problems. I was hoping there’s someone whose
calm was bigger than my fear. Someone who could stay grounded while my world falls
apart. Someone who could quietly remind me that I didn’t have to carry every
emotion with perfect composure. And all of the sudden, I started missing him.
And that he would often ask me how I was feeling.
To
be honest, I rarely knew the answer. I’ve spent so much of my living moving
forward that I never really learned to stop and ask myself that question. But
for a brief moment, he gave me something I didn’t realize I’d missing. The
permission to feel. Maybe that’s what emotional safety really is. Not
having someone rescue you from difficult moments. Not having someone fix what
life breaks. But having someone whose presence quietly tells your nervous
system, “It’s okay, you don’t have to be strong for the next 5 minutes”.
I’ve
been strong for so long that I forgot strength isn’t supposed to be permanent. Sometimes
it isn’t about finding someone who carries the burdens. It’s simply finding
someone who makes you feel safe enough to put them down, even for a little
while.