A few days ago I read a quote saying, "If your body feels unsafe before your brain understands why, trust your body."
This is great advice.
But, what if you don't know how to trust your body?
What if your distress has been repeatedly dismissed and your concerns invalidated your entire life?
What if you're completely disconnected from your body's sensations?
What if you don't know what safety feels like?
This was the case for myself and so many others.
I decided to write this for all of us.
Better is possible, I have it now, and you deserve it too.
Here is my story.
Even as a young child, I didn't feel safe most of the time. I would cry myself to sleep worrying about things such as: house fires, home invasions, being forced out into the world on my own once I was an adult, and losing family members to illness or violence.
I also had poor interoception, meaning I could not interpret my body's cues, which meant I didn't know when I was hungry or full, when I needed to go to the bathroom, or when I was about to throw up. Even now, as a 37-year-old woman, I have to figure out if what I'm feeling is hunger or nausea, anxiety or period cramps.
I grew up in a household where the tension was always thick. A quiet evening could turn explosive in an instant. Spanking was the norm; although my mother did not participate in this particular form of discipline, she did not intervene. It wasn't uncommon for me to be spanked and to have no clue what I'd done, or to witness my siblings being held down, yelled at, or hit without any clear indication of their transgressions.
My dad is a loving man, and he was a good father. I believe extreme stress, misophonia, and cognitive rigidity led to the parenting choices that caused harm. He had very strict expectations for how we were to behave at all times, especially in public. When we would go to my brother's baseball games, he would have all of us kids lined up on the bleachers in front of him; we were expected to sit still the entire time, and if we moved or made noise, we would be hit. This was unrealistic for children in general, but especially neurodivergent children. Every night at dinner, we had to eat everything given to us and talking or smacking would result in getting popped in the mouth. My sister has told me about having texture issues and having to hide her food in napkins so he would think she ate it. One time I was making too much noise eating chips, and he came up to the table, crushed the remaining chips with his hands and then walked away.
My dad was simultaneously one of the only people who could help me regulate my nervous system, and the cause of my hypervigilance. I learned to be outwardly focused to his moods and adjust my behavior accordingly. This behavior is so ingrained in me, that the second I feel someone is having a negative reaction to something I've said or done, I retract statements and change my behavior to minimize their response.
When my dad was calm, he was one of the only people who could make me feel safe and protected. One of my favorite memories from childhood is laying on the floor with him after he got home from work, co-regulating with him. However, he could also scare the shit out of me. He would recv his truck engine as I walked in front of it to make me scream, or hold me upside down to achieve the same result. It was funny to him, and my brothers found amusement in this as well.
My brothers learned to bully me, and being disabled made me an easy target. I also irritated them for things that were outside of my control, and they took out their anger on me. A couple of weeks ago, my mom found old paperwork related to the custody case after her divorce with my dad. In an interview with a psychologist, my twin brother expressed his frustration with my sitting in front of the TV where no one else could see it. I can remember him bullying me because of this, but instead of any intervention, it was allowed to continue.
He could provoke me as much as he wanted, and nothing was said. However, the instant I responded, I was either the problem or we were both told to stop. Recently, I told my sister the story of when my brother attempted to drown me, and all she said was, "Yeah, y'all used to fight a lot," as if both parties were equally responsible, as if I could have done anything that would warrant that kind of reaction, and as if there wasn't a power imbalance because I am disabled and he is not.
I wasn't allowed to defend myself, and I never had control of my body or what happened to it.
Violence was normalized, completely acceptable depending on who was being violent and who was the target.
When I began attending the residential school for the blind as an 11-year-old girl, I attracted the attention of two adult male students and both of them began showering me with unwanted attention. One of them tried to appear outwardly respectful while trying to "date" a child. He would sit next to me and we would type messages to each other in braille, and the excuse was he was showing me how to use the braille notetaker. He also met my mom and I introduced him as my "boyfriend" and sat with him during the talent show she was there to attend. Later on a house parent asked me about my relationship with him. Although she was concerned, she expected me to understand what was happening and put a stop to it when I didn't have that ability. The other adult student wrote me letters, made me mix CDs, bought me Valentine's Day balloons, and would call me at home. He sent me a letter when I turned 16 claiming we could "date", and when I didn't take him up on the offer, he threatened to burn down my house. One time my stepmom told me, "he's just trying to get into your pants." She wasn't wrong, and he wasn't the only one either. He, along with several other boys would corner me in the stairwells at school and try to kiss me, unzip my pants, or grab my hand and put it on their private parts. Others would touch my thighs in class or at the dining hall, or reach under my shirt and feel my breasts when sitting next to me. If anyone ever knew, no one put a stop to it. I did not tell on the boys, because I'd been conditioned not to and that I would be the one who would get in trouble. This, along with other abuse I was experiencing would continue until I began dating my first real boyfriend at age 14. It ended up being a toxic rollercoaster of a relationship that went on for 6 years, and only ended because people who did not know me spotted his behavior as abusive and controlling. My mom said, "Why didn't you tell me?" I thought it was normal, that's why. .
Adults in my life repeatedly ignored my distress signals, and attempted to force me to push through. I've written about my mom telling me I wasn't "crying the right way," but it was very common for how I felt inside to be at odds with how others were behaving and expecting me to behave. Transitioning between my mom's house and my dad's house was extremely challenging and caused me a great deal of anxiety. My stomach would always start hurting as the pick-up time approached. This is in the custody paperwork as well, and I explained that I knew my parents were going to fight. This is understandable, however, my distress was used against me. In my mom's eyes, I was just attempting to cause trouble for my parents. I was not. At my dad's house, I did not have a room for several years. I was forced to sleep in the living room on a pullout couch. In the mornings, my stepmom would yell at me to get up, get dressed, and fold up the couch. I think this would make almost anyone miserable, but it was especially challenging after spending all week away from home and not having my own space, and it makes since that I struggled so much especially after everything I've learned about myself. I needed my own space for my nervous system to reset before heading back to school for another week. It took several years for my dad and stepmom to turn the garage into their bedroom, supposedly so I could have a room to myself. However, as soon as it was built, my stepmom's sister came to stay for awhile and I was still relegated to the couch. Once she left, I was excited to finally have my own space, only to learn my stepmom wanted to put birds in the room with me. This is because she didn't consider it my space at all. I was so upset, I cried and begged my dad not to do it. They ignored my distress and did it anyway, so I wrote him a letter explaining how I felt. The next time I went to visit, my stepmom threw the letter in my face. How dare I talk to my dad that way and how dare I make him feel bad. It was very confusing, because I didn't think I'd said anything wrong or hurtful. It was not meant as an attack in any way, but it was taken as one. This meant that I learned my needs did not matter, that I needed to tolerate distress for everyone else's benefit.
So why am I sharing all of this? Because poor interoception and trauma teamed up to make it nearly impossible for me to know when I was or wasn't safe and to act in my own best interest rather than attempting to please others. However, I am proof that this is a skill that can be learned as I am doing now.
By 2023, I was in the part of my healing journey where I'd realized I needed safe relationships in order to continue healing. The problem was I didn't know what safe relationships looked like or what safety felt like, other than those moments of co-regulation with my dad from childhood. So, when I met someone who seemed to communicate the way I did, would hold me before bed, did not pressure me into sex or immediately grab me inappropriately, and did not shame me when I had what others would say was an irrational reaction, I believed I'd found a safe person. My body, however, was screaming at me, trying to tell me otherwise the entire time. This is because the person he was pretending to be was not who he actually was. It's not all on him, since I was masking heavily as well. I was not myself around him and his friends. Once more aspects of my personality came out and what I truly believe, they did not like me. I wanted to feel safe, but wanting to feel safe and actual safety are two very different things.
Some warning signs I ignored include: the inability to be myself and talk about my interests, not saying anything when he and his friends bashed those who mask in public when I am one of those people, ganging up on me with my family members instead of supporting me, talking to his friends about private matters, talking negatively to me about his previous girlfriends (meaning he would do the same to me when I wasn't around, and he did), forcing me into uncomfortable situations because it was what he wanted, the inability to ask for what I needed, difficulty having important conversations, and the big one: frequent high heart rate warnings when those were out of the norm for me. Your body will tell you when you are unsafe, you just have to listen.
In contrast, I am now in the safest relationship I've ever been in and it feels completely different. I can talk to him about literally anything and he will listen and engage with me. He doesn't treat any of my interests as some kind of weird threat. He understands my concern about covid and supports masking in public places, especially on public transportation and in medical facilities. He doesn't complain about me to other people, period, but especially not behind my back. I haven't had a single high heart rate warning in the almost 2 years we've been together. He stands up to my family members with me, when necessary, instead of ganging up on me. He supports me in getting my needs met and with daily care tasks as needed. He encourages me to do things that are hard, but never shames me. He is very interested in me and shows it, but understands that no means no and can recognize when I am dissociating. My sensory issues, anxiety, and other struggles do not annoy him and he never ever yells at me or makes me feel ashamed.
This kind of relationship is possible, and you can achieve it. Here is my advice. Pay attention to how you feel when you are alone vs. with other people. Journaling may help with this. Whenever possible, distance yourself from anyone you have to constantly monitor yourself around, watching what you say, how you behave, and even your body movements to keep them comfortable. Move toward those who have values that align with yours, and away from anyone who you cannot disagree with without it being a fight. For me, I have family members like this, and I love them dearly, but I will not be letting anyone else get close to me who behaves this way. Get an Apple Watch, and wear it every day. Learn what your baseline is, so when you're around someone who pushes you out of whatever the normal range is for you, you can remove yourself from their orbit. You might not know what it feels like to be safe, but your body is trying to tell you. You got this!
This post wasn't easy to write, so if you've read it, thank you! I hope there is something here that will help you or someone you know. Sending love to everyone!