A safe space.

Everyone should have such a space. I knew all about the importance of safe spaces because I had learnt about them on my play therapy training. My play therapy clients knew about safe spaces because we talked about them. Did I have my own safe space? Nah. Why not, you may ask. I had never had one. If my dad wanted to hit me, it did not matter where I hid, he would find me.

That brings shame and self esteem issues on a child. So I feIt unworthy, unloved and ashamed. How could a child in that situation even consider having any boundaries? I did not even have any personal space let alone a safe place. But I also had not had any role models showing me what boundaries were or how to say 'no'.

Therefore I grew up with very few boundaries. When I started working, I very quickly learnt that other adults could also treat me in a similar way. And no-one would bat an eyelid.

For example, when I did try and defend myself from a senior colleague on many occasions as a young adult in a new job, I was told it was just his way. He did not mean anything by it. Being cornered between the photocopier and the bookcase in a lonely staffroom with his groping hands and disgusting breath all over me, did not feel like nothing to me. He definitely overstepped my boundaries let alone my personal space. Disgusting behaviour.

So many of us women could fill pages of books with our experiences of men, predominantly, taking no notice whatsoever of our personal boundaries. Is that what life is supposed to be like? Really? Fortunately times seem to be a-changing. But back then, I still did not know about having a safe space of my own. Even when I lived in a flat on my own, it was not always safe for me.

Then years later, I met my outdoor therapist and when I told her the abridged version of my life story on my first session; she listened intently and then responded with two utterances. Firstly, she felt loss was a huge factor in my life. There had been so much loss, she thought. Secondly, where was my safe space? She surprised me with both of those responses. I had not thought loss had made such an impact on my life. It took me a while to understand that part. And then, I need a safe space? That was a thought. Did I actually have anywhere to go in my home where I could close the door and be on my own without anyone or anything disturbing me? No. I did not.

In fact, for the ten years I cared for my Mum, our bedroom door was always open. I needed it to be as my Mum was my priority and if I heard her having breathing issues in her bed in the next room, I was by her side in a flash.

She would call me at any time of day or night. That was fine by me. She needed help. It was a difficult situation for my marriage but thankfully my husband seemed to understand. My father, unsurprisingly, neither understood nor cared. He continued to be his bolshy self and if he felt like overstepping my fragile boundaries to emotionally abuse me, he would just do it. For example, if I was having a well-earned nap as I had been up all night caring for my Mum, he had no problem shouting at me to wake up as he wanted a cup of tea.

He would just walk into my bedroom and moan at me about the state of the house or that he had nothing to eat as there was no bread left. Aaaaargh, of course that would make me feel so bad as I was not 'looking after' my whole family but my Mum's health was in serious decline. At least he could still go to the shop and buy a loaf of f*****g bread himself.

There is a major issue I have about being in a room with the door closed that I have mentioned previously in this blog. And I explained that to the therapist. She replied we would also work on that issue but it was really important that I had a safe space where I was left in peace.

I duly found a safe space for me in our home and it took me a while to close the door. I still struggle with that. But it was interesting to see my dad's reaction to the closed door. It took about a year before he stopped barging in to wake me up for one of his pathetic sufferings. On one occasion, he threw open the door and threw his mobile phone at me as I sat on the bed in shocked silence. It hit me with a force that really hurt and bruised me. He was shouting and carrying on as he could not make a phone call with it. This is an age old problem with him. He refuses to take instruction from anyone. My Mum and I thought it was just us but we noticed it happened with my husband too. So when we had tried to show him how to make a call, he had switched off, ignoring us and said he can do it himself. But he could not. So I got it in the neck.

Anyway, I have worked hard on boundaries since then and I do feel I am worthy now. Well, I have my moments. Think this has all reared its head as tomorrow morning will be my first day back as his 24/7 carer. My husband will help out, I know, as and when he is available. My dad has refused to pay for the council carers any longer so I won't even get that half hour's grace from caring for him each day. I am hoping to possibly acquire agency carers sometime but until then...

My safe space will hopefully be my haven.