Saftey Before Fairytales:
Part two of The Common Denominator: what creating safety in a relationship actually looks like.
Where we left off
In my last post, I shared the question my brother asked me years ago: "Jane, what's the common denominator?" For a long time I thought the answer was me.
Now I know the real answer. I didn't know how to create safety within a relationship.
Which should have lead to the obvious next question: "What does safety actually look like within a relationship? And how do I create it?" But I didn't yet have that insight., so I kept struggling along with my own inner demons of failure,
"Create safety" sounds lovely on a poster, but it's a whole lot harder to pin down when you're standing in your kitchen mid-disagreement wondering why your chest feels like it's in a vice. So let's get practical.
What emotional safety actually is (and isn't)
Let's clear something up first. Safety isn't the absence of conflict. It isn't never feeling nervous, never disagreeing, or never having a cranky Tuesday.
Emotional safety is knowing you can be fully yourself and still be loved. It's the deep-down sense that you can say the true thing, have the hard conversation, or show the messy bits, and the relationship will hold.
In my old relationships, I mistook intensity for intimacy and peace-keeping for peace. I'd smooth everything over, give more, try harder. On the surface it looked harmonious. Underneath, I was quietly holding my breath, waiting for the next thing to go wrong.
That's not safety. That's survival in a pretty dress.
Illusion or real? Signs to notice
The tricky thing about a fairytale is that it feels wonderful while you're in it. So here are some gentle signs to help you tell the difference.
You might be building an illusion if... | You're likely building something real if... |
You rehearse conversations in your head before you have them | You can say things without needing a script |
You only show your best side | They've seen your worst day and stayed |
You're always the one adjusting | You both bend, and you both get heard |
You love who they could become | You love who they are right now |
Conflict feels like the relationship might end | Conflict feels uncomfortable but survivable |
You feel anxious when things go quiet | Quiet feels restful, not threatening |
Your friends see red flags you explain away | Your friends see you relaxed and more you |
If the left column made you wince a little, that's okay. I lived in that column for years. Noticing it isn't a reason for shame. It's the first step out.
Safety starts with you
Here's the bit nobody told me when I was younger. You can't create safety with someone until you can create it within yourself.
For years I handed my sense of safety over to the men I loved. If they were happy, I was okay. If they pulled away, I panicked and tried harder. My whole nervous system was riding on someone else's mood. No wonder it felt like hard work.
Creating inner safety looks like this:
Knowing your own needs, and believing they matter, even before anyone else agrees.
Being able to soothe yourself. Breath, stillness, a walk in the paddock, a cuppa on the verandah. Whatever brings you home to your body.
Keeping your own life. Your friends, your passions, your rhythms. A healthy relationship adds to your life; it doesn't replace it.
Trusting yourself to leave if something isn't right. Ironically, knowing you can walk away is what makes it safe to stay.
When I walked into my current relationship, I came already holding my own hand. That's what made it possible to ask the hard questions and show up as the whole me from day one. I wasn't auditioning anymore. I was choosing.
Building safety together: small everyday practices
Once you've got your own feet under you, safety between two people is built in the small moments. Not the grand gestures. The Tuesday-night stuff.
The daily check-in. A simple "How are you, really?" and then actually listening to the answer. Phones down, eyes up. Be present.
Name what's happening. "I'm feeling a bit confused about this" is far safer than going quiet and hoping they'll guess. Don't expect them to be a mind reader.
Pause when it heats up. If either of you is flooded, agree to take a breather and come back. The key is the coming back. A pause is not a punishment. Breath deep into the tummy for 4 and out for 6. Pause and repeat..
Assume good intent. Before reacting, ask yourself: "Is there a kinder way to read this?" Most of the time, there is. Negative assumptions can derail any communication and feel like betrayal.
Repair quickly and often. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong." "I hear you." "Can we try that again?" These little phrases are pure gold. Be quick to forgive for the mispoken intentions.
Keep your word in small things. Said you'd ring? Ring. Said you'd be home by six? Be home by six. Trust is built in tiny deposits. Be consistent.
Celebrate each other out loud. Notice what they do well and tell them. Being seen is one of the safest feelings in the world. Validate and reassure because that is how we can celebrate the person we are loving.
None of these are fancy. That's the point. Safety isn't something you create once. It's something you choose, again and again, with a glad heart.
A few questions to sit with
Grab your journal and gently ask yourself:
Where in my life do I feel truly safe to be myself?
Which parts of me do I hide from the people I love, and why?
When I feel unsafe in a relationship, what do I usually do? Try harder, shut down, or run?
What would it feel like to be loved without having to earn it?
No right answers here. Just honest ones.
And one important note: if a relationship ever feels unsafe in a physical or frightening way, that's not something to fix with more effort. Please reach out for support. In Australia, 1800RESPECT (1800 737 732) is there 24/7.
Coming home to real love
I spent years believing relationships had to be hard, mostly because I had observe that in others and heard the wrods said out loud too many times to count. That love meant compromise, trauma and holding everything together on my own.
Now I know love can be something else entirely. It can be soft. Honest. Steady. A place you get to rest, rather than a place you have to perform.
It starts with safety. Within you first, then between you.
And if it took me a few decades and a front-row seat to my son's relationship to learn that, please know it's never too late for you either.
With love,
Elaya-Jane
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