Alex Watson — 21 November 2025

This morning has been a big one for me internally.

I’ve been sitting with a strange dream, my pull towards certain kinds of people, and my tendency to think my way around feelings instead of through them. Underneath it all, I can feel something quiet but important: I’m becoming a bit more secure in myself.

Rather than trying to cram this into neat little “concepts,” I want this post to be a record of how it actually feels in my body and mind right now.

1. The dream about my neighbours

In the dream, I was sitting on a corner sofa with my neighbours. I don’t talk to them in real life – there’s history there, including threats when I set boundaries – so the whole setup was already strange.

In the dream:

  • I was sitting next to the woman.
  • I ended up falling asleep with my head on her lap.
  • Their dog was there.
  • The man was getting frustrated with me.
  • At one point, he thought I was stealing his internet. I calmly said, “I’ve got my own internet. I don’t need to steal yours.”

On the surface it’s just a weird dream. But emotionally, it felt like my nervous system was rehearsing something new:

  • Being close to someone softer, nurturing, safe enough to fall asleep on.
  • Being near a frustrated, angry-feeling man without collapsing, appeasing, or exploding.
  • Saying, in my own way:
    “I have my own connection. I’m not dependent on you anymore.”

It doesn’t feel like the dream was about my actual neighbours. It feels more like my system using them as stand-ins for older dynamics: unsafe men, softer women, and my old fear of male anger.

The important part for me is this: in the dream, I stayed grounded.
I didn’t crumble around his frustration.
I didn’t beg for approval.
I just told the truth.

That feels like a quiet milestone.

2. Feeling ready (enough) for a secure relationship

I don’t think I’ve ever had a truly secure romantic relationship.

I’ve had secure relationships with therapists.
I have increasingly secure-feeling links with people at college.
But a secure partner? No.

What I’m noticing now is:

  • I don’t feel desperate for a relationship.
  • I do feel open to one.
  • I’m willing to let time, reality, and my body show me the truth of someone over time.
  • I want a relationship that feels a bit like therapy does: safe, regulated, curious, warm… not sexualised therapy, but the quality of safety.

If I’m ever with someone long-term, I’d want:

  • Boring in the best way.
  • Comforting.
  • Gentle.
  • Quietly secure.
  • The kind of person I could fall asleep next to without having to be “on.”

And I think the most important belief for me is this:

“There isn’t ‘the right one’. There is someone who feels safe, and I can keep checking in with myself over time.”

If they end up not being right for me, that’s okay.
I’d rather face that than force something out of fear.

3. The girl at college and healthy distance

There’s a girl at college I like.

Nothing dramatic – just a feeling of liking her as a person and enjoying seeing her in her element. She’s married, and I think my way of really seeing people probably makes her a bit uncomfortable at times, in a way that isn’t bad, just exposing.

For example, I said something like:

“It was great to see you in your element.”

I think she felt slightly uncomfortable being seen like that, and she’s kept a little bit of distance. I’m not reading that as rejection or as “I’ve done something wrong.” It feels more like:

  • She values the safety of her marriage.
  • She’s aware of emotional boundaries.
  • She’s doing the right thing for herself.

And I’m actually okay with that.

Part of my ego likes the story:

“She had to set a boundary because I saw her deeply.”

But the wiser part of me knows it’s simply healthy boundaries.
Nothing wrong with her.
Nothing wrong with me.

Just adults navigating things as best they can.

4. Anxious people, projection, and the “jab”

This is one of the harder pieces to admit.

I’ve noticed that anxious people often trigger something in me. When I’m with someone noticeably anxious, I can sometimes say something too blunt, slightly sharp, or subtly shaming – not because I want to hurt them, but because some younger part of me is trying to “wake them up.”

Examples:

  • Someone told me they were having big problems with their dog and were getting a dog trainer. I said something like:
    “I was watching this dog trainer, and he says a lot of the time the issue is about the owner.”
    That’s a harsh thing to say to someone already anxious and struggling.
  • Another time, I made a joke about a woman “taking the role” of organising the party. It was playful on the surface, but underneath there was probably a jab in it.

What I think is happening is:

  • Anxious, overwhelmed, or slightly chaotic energy reminds me of my mum.
  • My inner child wants the adult to finally wake up, regulate, and be the solid one.
  • So I sometimes poke, prod, or jab with words to try to force that shift.

Afterwards I feel shame, because it can feel almost emotionally abusive from the outside. But I also know:

  • It’s not intentional.
  • It’s not coming from malice.
  • It’s coming from an old survival pattern.

I probably did this with my ex-partner too – trying to wake her up rather than being able to just let her be how she was and take care of myself.

I don’t want to keep doing this.
I don’t want to limit who I can connect with.
And I don’t want to carry unnecessary shame either.

What comforts me is this:

  • I don’t do this with clients.
  • I’m much less likely to do it when I’m in a clearly held “therapist” role.
  • It tends to happen in relaxed, casual settings when my guard is down.

So the work isn’t “I’m abusive.”
The work is: “Can I notice when my inner child is reacting and bring my adult self back online?”

A simple internal reframe I want to use:

“This isn’t my mum.
This is just an anxious person.
I am allowed to stay regulated and kind.
It’s not my job to wake them up.”

5. Avoidant people, chasing, and becoming more secure

On the other side of things, avoidant people used to make me want to chase.

Their distance felt familiar.
Their emotional unavailability felt like home.
If I could just get them to turn towards me, maybe I could finally fix the old wound.

But I’ve mostly stopped chasing avoidant people now.

I can feel that shift:

  • I’m not as pulled towards distance and coldness.
  • I’m not as interested in fixing or winning someone over.
  • I’m more interested in people whose presence feels calming rather than addictive.

It’s interesting being able to see both sides in myself – anxious reactions in some contexts, avoidant pulls in others – and starting to feel something more stable growing underneath.

6. INP: Intellectualising vs Integrating

I’ve been thinking about INP – Integrative Narrative Processing.

For me, the key distinction is this:

  • When I’m dysregulated and I start thinking, analysing and theorising instead of feeling, that’s intellectualising.
  • When I’m regulated and I explore meaning, patterns, and narrative, that’s integration.

I know I’m regulated when:

  • My body feels soft and open.
  • My breathing is steady.
  • My head doesn’t feel tight.
  • I don’t have urges – no craving for food, porn, sex, cigarettes, YouTube, etc.
  • I don’t feel like I need anything in that moment.
  • I feel balanced, like I can take it or leave it.

I know I’m intellectualising when:

  • I’m tight in my body.
  • My mind is racing.
  • I’m trying to “solve” the feeling instead of feel it.
  • I’m talking from inside the dysregulation.

I still do that in therapy. I’ll probably do some version of it for the rest of my life. The difference now is: I can see it more often, and I don’t fully believe it anymore.

Where I’ve landed with INP is:

  • It’s not a replacement for feeling.
  • It’s not a regulator.
  • It’s only useful once I’m already regulated.
  • It’s a tool to weave threads together after the storm passes.

In that sense, it’s not massively different from journaling, REBT, or basic reflective work. I’ve probably just given it a name because that’s how my brain works. And that’s fine.

It doesn’t need to be revolutionary.
It just needs to be useful for where I am.

7. Ego, AI, and discernment

There’s a part of me that is wary of all this feeling like one big ego stroke.

AI is designed to be agreeable and keep me engaged. I know that. So I’m not going to swallow every reflection as gospel. Instead, I’m trying to sit with things and ask:

  • Does this actually feel true in my body?
  • Does this match my behaviour over time?
  • Would my therapist broadly agree that I’m more regulated and more secure lately?
  • Is this just flattery, or is there something genuine here?

I’m realising that:

  • My ability to question and not immediately absorb praise is actually a sign of security.
  • I don’t need this to be world-changing.
  • I can hold: “This is important for me” and “This might be quite ordinary to others” at the same time.

That feels like a good place to be.

8. Blogging it all anyway

I’ve decided I’m just going to put these blogs up on my website.

I’m not saying anything horrific.
I’m not naming anyone.
I’m not attacking anyone.
I’m describing my inner world as honestly as I can.

If people think I’m manic, they can think that.
If professionals ever needed to get involved, I’d rather protect my son than protect my image. But at this point I feel:

  • grounded
  • coherent
  • connected to reality
  • aware of risk
  • aware of my own patterns

This blog is, first and foremost, for me:

  • a place to track my growth,
  • to see my patterns more clearly,
  • to honour my inner child,
  • and to keep a record of how far I’ve come by the time I’m ready to work with clients.

I’ve got about 18 months before that becomes a real possibility.
Between now and then, these entries can be both:

  • a form of personal integration
  • and a quiet offering to anyone who might find themselves in similar territory.

If anyone who truly matters reads this, they’ll either:

  • understand,
  • or ask questions,
  • or simply accept that this is part of my process.

Anyone who doesn’t matter can think what they like.

9. Where I’m landing today

If I had to summarise this morning, it would be:

  • My dreams are starting to show me more safety than threat.
  • I’m more open to secure relationships than ever, without forcing it.
  • I can see how anxious and avoidant people trigger old wounds in me.
  • I can catch myself when I jab or project, and I want to keep softening that.
  • I’m learning to use my thinking after feeling, not instead of it.
  • I’m grounded enough to doubt flattery and still keep what’s useful.
  • I can publish my process without needing it to be perfect or impressive.

Underneath it all, there’s a quiet sense that I am, slowly, becoming a bit more secure.