Learning to Feel Safe

I’ve got a bit of a vulnerability hangover today.

Yesterday, I reached out to Dave — someone I haven’t spoken to in a while — and I invited him to join me on part of my trip to Scotland. Just an island or two. Just seeing what flows. And now, even though the conversation went okay, I’m feeling that post-vulnerable wobble.

Maybe that’s just what a secure relationship feels like. Maybe it’s not supposed to rush in with over-eagerness or total certainty. Maybe it’s enough that nothing felt unsafe in his reply — that every response so far has felt steady, even if not overly expressive. Maybe he didn’t respond because he’s actually thinking about it, not because he’s rejecting me. That would be a first — and that unfamiliarity is probably what’s making me feel so exposed.

But still… there’s this insight:

Maybe I don’t need one person to meet all my needs.
Maybe the answer is spreading secure relationships across all corners of life.

A walking buddy.
Someone I chat to at the sauna.
A meaningful moment in the gym.
A friend who’s emotionally present, even if only now and then.

I think that’s the kind of life that keeps you grounded — not because you’re clinging to connection, but because you’ve grown it quietly in many places. That way, no single relationship holds the weight of your emotional stability.

And here’s what I’m noticing now more than ever:

My ability to discern who feels secure…
who’s worth growing something with…
who’s safe enough to trust over time…
—it’s stronger than it’s ever been.

This may be new territory, but I think I’m ready to be here.
Ready to feel safe.
Even when I’m not entirely sure what happens next.

Because maybe the most courageous thing isn’t reaching out.
Maybe it’s staying open after.