I am safe. I can feel the weighted blanket on my lap. I can taste the white chocolate mocha creamer in my coffee. I can hear the heater going and coming out the vent to my right. I can see the kitchen lights. I can smell my coffee.
I am safe. Even if I continue to cry today. Even if I feel dreadful and sad and grief-stricken, I am supported and surrounded by love and reasons to live. I am supposed to be here. I am needed and loved and I am worthy of these things.
I am safe. Nothing that my mind fears is going to happen. Even though there is a percentage chance for anything to happen, I can trust in God and know that His plan is greater than anything I can imagine. I can hand Him my anxiety and fear. I can be present because I have faith.
I am safe. In the first hours of 2020 I made plans to die. In the last hours of 2020 I’m going to practice gratitude for life. It’s ok if I do nothing else today except curl up with this blanket and a hot drink and a book.
I am safe. I can think of the hugs and love I received yesterday while I felt unsafe—when it inevitably happens again today. I am safe even though I woke up to tears and anxiety and dread. I have safety in reaching out. It’s ok to struggle, it’s ok to be vulnerable, it’s ok to ask for help.
I have safety despite what I’m feeling.