Hear me out.
As I do, I try on concepts for size. How do they taste, smell, and fit? In Jaclynn’s mind, anything and everything can be put on the chopping block and subjected to a little Devil’s advocacy. Why? Because it’s fun. And because I see value in challenging the beliefs I hold. Whereas some people cling to their beliefs as if they’re “my precious,” I discard and swap mine out like playing cards.
One belief I hold is that I need to be safe. A safe person. A person who serves as an underground railroad for others.
This is all fine and good. It works well, except for the times when people feel unsafe around me.
When they cross a line, intentional or not, I take note.
And here’s where it gets interesting.
I expect myself to continue being safe. To stay open. To remain understanding. To make room for their humanity. But another part of me quietly files it in the cabinet.
Not because I want revenge. Not because I think they’re bad.
But because trust, once bumped into, starts behaving differently.
I think sometimes my definition of being a safe person accidentally includes having no reaction. As if safety means endless understanding. Endless patience. Endless access.
But maybe a safe person isn’t a person without boundaries.
Maybe a safe person is someone who notices when a line has been crossed and responds honestly.
Maybe safety isn’t the absence of self-protection.
Maybe it’s the absence of punishment.
I don’t know.
I’m still trying that idea on for size.
Love, Jaclynn