6 Steps to Find Safety, When Things Get Tough

And how caring for yourself builds a future with deeper, collective care.

Baby Tug because Baby Tug. Also. We made it to Friday, beloved humans. Yes. We. did!

Good morning, Beautiful Human,

I’ll be honest, when I first wrote this, I was completely stuck.

I was lost to grief and absolute overwhelm at our world — at people going hungry, at healthcare relentlessly profiting off pain, and at the reality that our country straight up seems to no longer care about people.

Oscillating between silent sadness — that deadly kind where the quiet consumes the soul whole — and rage — virulent rage that our conditioning allowed it to get this far — I was a total mess. A total mess and constantly on the verge of tears at the idea that my plan for the week was to show up here and share a list of different ways to “find safety.”

Given my own immense privilege, the idea felt downright offensive. Who am I to talk about feeling safe when safety itself is a privilege? And furthermore — a privilege only systems-based change can create?

Then, election day happened. And people showed up in their truth.

People spoke for affordability. People spoke for access. People spoke for themselves. Yes, on Tuesday, people woke up, and even in their own overwhelm and sorrow, they still acted in alignment with a world that values and honors human decency more than profit.

I didn’t realize it until the results came in, but I needed that. I needed Tuesday and its record-setting turnout. I needed the decisive sweep of districts. And I needed Mamdani’s speech and undeniable sass (*turn the volume up) to remember that we — you and me — are in this together. Yes, we are in this together, and mood follows action. Showing up matters.

Once the results and their joy fully washed over me, I revisited my original thoughts on sharing a list of things that could offer safety, and I interrogated them a bit. Is it actually offensive to share a list? Or is it actually permission for care for all of us who are weathering this disaster?

As I rode the merry-go-round of my emotions in processing this, I realized that my initial reaction was misguided.

Supporting safety for everyone right now, even people like me — with the immense privilege of food in their belly, and a roof over their head — is an opportunity. The truth is, it’s not offensive to take care of ourselves; It’s imperative. We just can’t stop there.

Now, before I continue, hear me loud and colorful: I am not saying lock yourself in your house, take bubble baths, and avoid the news so much that you tune out the world entirely — I’m saying: let’s build a sustainable practice of caring for ourselves so we can reclaim our ability to care for others.

Neglecting our own care when we have the means to do it — that’s what’s problematic. Because true self-care (not “wellness” propaganda), done thoughtfully, builds the capacity to take action. And those actions allow us to show up for each other and to make real safety possible for everyone.

It’s all connected. We’re all connected. And right now, that matters tremendously.

When I first dreamt up The Healing Lab, this connection was at its center. I drew a simple chart on a scrap of paper, and though I can’t find the colorful doodle right now, I remember it clearly:

First, we we find safety.

Then, we connect with our agency and use that to make an informed decision about how we choose to heal.

In the work of healing — in whichever modality we have chosen — we “microdose” discomfort and deprogram our conditioning from the capitalistic, greedy hustle culture we are all so unfortunately entrenched within. Therein, we reclaim ourselves — who we are, what we love to do, what lights us on fire, and what gifts of self we have to give.

Then, with this newfound understanding of self, we get to re-write our life into a newfound existence — one that honors us fully, that uses those gifts to serve others and above all, honors both self and service in true alignment.

Of course, that is easier said than done. And goodness knows I am still in the messy discomfort of it all — in the weeping and exhaustion phase a lot of the time.

But I do know this and want to remind both myself and you of it today:

When things feel dark: mood follows action. And caring for yourself is a foundational part of caring for others. It is the bedrock on which we build everything else.

So, with this framework in mind (and as we conclude our three-week exploration of Safety), I want to leave you with an offering. My hope is that it helps you to build, find, or borrow safety for yourself, especially when it feels most scarce.

A reminder: we work on Safety first because it’s the place where agency of self begins. And what is healing if not the choice to be you fully, once and for all?

How I Find Safety — the six steps — in the Absolute Hardest of Moments

I know that readers of the Healing Lab live many kinds of lives. I, of course, don’t presume to know the truth of them, but I do know that you are faced with hardship in a myriad of ways that I cannot even imagine. Though I wish there were one simple answer for how to make it through hardship on earth, I know that is the biggest lie we are ever told. We all walk different paths, and all paths are equally good. That said, some paths are more universally effective, and today, I am going to offer the path that has helped me in my hardest of times and many others as well.

I have followed these six steps countless times. I have also witnessed friends and peers follow them numerous times. This framework can, of course, be applied to any experience, but it is particularly curated for times when people are living through a crisis, or systemic threat.

An important reminder: If you are in a state of being that is not safe, the goal here is self-preservation and survival, not growth.

And, because it is often easier to understand these practices through a shared story, I have included what this looked like for me when my psychosis grew severe.

1. Ask for Help — now, don’t get me wrong, I motherducking hate this advice, I really do. It is so goddamn hard, AND for some people, it’s actually possible to do in a state of extreme distress. So, if you are one of those humans who can tap into this right off the bat, absolutely tap into your community first. This is what community is for!

   AND – if that feels terrifying and… holy hell, I’m already in crisis and now you want me to fucking involve someone and put myself out there and are you a total masochist, kate?! I hear you. I am right there with you so let’s move onto #2.
   

2. Physical Safety First — Find four walls with a door, a spot at a public library, your car, a tent, a closet, anywhere that makes you feel physically protected. When we are not physically safe, we cannot override our nervous system and coerce it into a feeling of safety. (That is straight-up gaslighting).

   For me? I’d get in my hallucination fort (four white sheets pinned up around me), my truck, or a tiny closet. Containing myself in a well-defined, small space allowed me to recognize that my body was physically contained, and even if my mind conjured danger within it, the containment felt one step closer to safety. Furthermore, it subtracted all additional variables that could add a lack of safety to my state of being. This felt (again) another step closer to safety, even if I couldn’t feel safe just yet.

   

   Waffle borrowing the re-creation of my hallucination fort — an installation I did with Parachute Home. Also omg. That face. That joy. Can we all please join her and take a nap?

3. Acknowledge the moment — Validate where you are at and what you are feeling. It matters. And it is brutal. By taking a moment to listen to the truth of your feelings, you anchor in the truth of your lived experience and its hardship. Though this can sometimes magnify the feeling/s you are experiencing in the very near term, it allows you to move forward from a place of kindness instead of judgement. It also takes ownership of your resilience, and offers a reminder of what you are capable of surviving.

   Once in my spot, this usually looked like me literally telling myself, “Holy hell, this fucking sucks, and sweet mother earth, this is so god damn hard. But kate, remember, you are still here. You are still here. That counts.” These words usually resulted in tears — but a different kind of tears — the tears of being seen in the work. This step also always made me realize how exhausted I was. And that, well, it’s simple: The hardship of the feeling and the greatness of the exhaustion = the magnitude of your resilience.
   

4. Soothe — don’t solve — So often we’re told to fix the problem (and held to the standard that the fix of the problem is the only thing of value). I’ve lost track of the times people said, “You have agency. You can do something. You need to take responsibility and solve this yourself.” And — although there might be some truth to that from an outsider — when we are in crisis, we do not have access to our prefrontal cortex, so we cannot make informed choices. So, soothe yourself first. This could be any number of things: Distract yourself, rock your body gently, hum, have a cup of tea, wrap yourself in blankets, listen to your favorite music, or watch your favorite movie.

   My soothing routine was always the same. I would wrap myself in 5 blankets (creating my own version of deep pressure therapy before I even knew that was a thing), eat a shit ton of sugar, and watch the movie Blue Crush. Is that absurd? Watching a rom-com surf movie while my mind conjured demons set out to murder me? Sure. And I don’t care that it’s absurd. I don’t care at all. Because normal be damned. Something about watching that movie while being cozy and completely weighed down in a sugar haze soothed me. And that’s what matters. In times of crisis, it doesn’t matter how “absurd” or different it is. All that matters is that you do something that soothes you.

5. Orient to the Present Moment — After soothing and finding as much safety as is possible in the moment, bring yourself into the present moment. One way to do this is to Name five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste. By pulling your brain into the Now and doing so from a newly soothed state, you are setting yourself up for the best possible chance at making an informed decision about how to actually troubleshoot the moment.
   

6. Build an action plan.
   
   What the heck does that mean, Kate?! That sounds beyond hard! Well, it means answer these three questions and go from there.

   1. What do I most need right now? Safety, support, food, housing, crisis care, peer understanding, acknowledgement, an open ear, a hug, a sleep buddy.

   2. Where can I get it right now? Crisis lines, shelters, peer respite centers, friends, family, mutual aid networks. Though we often think of safety as a problem that is our individual responsibility, that is not true. Safety is an everyone problem and only together can we solve it. This is a time when you deserve support, and support can help the most.

   3. How will I get it? This question is undoubtedly the hardest, and for me, since I felt like I was “too much” and didn’t want to burden people, I would start by calling a crisis line (no text line existed yet). With the peer or counselor, I would get their help on how to get what I needed from the people or place where I could get it.

      National Suicide Prevention Lifelife: 1-800-273-8255

      Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741742

      I would literally ask: Can you help me come up with a plan to get safe and stay on the line with me until I can do it?
      
      Sometimes, this looked like the person on the line helping me draft a text to a friend to drive me to my parents’ house. Other times, when my psychosis was really taking over, it would involve writing down a script that the crisis line worker gave me, hanging up, calling my parents for a ride to the ER, and then calling the crisis line back to have company until they arrived. In some cases, the result was me spending the night with a friend or my parents while they were on suicide watch. The rest of the time, the result was me voluntarily admitting myself to the psych ward through the emergency room.

Now, I do want to acknowledge the privilege of this list. I had access to a safe place, a phone, and friends and parents who loved and cared for me enough to get me support and care.

I also want to acknowledge that there were times I didn’t have access to that too and though I don’t presume to know what’s available to everyone, in those cases, for me, shelters, public libraries, gas station bathrooms, and kind strangers helped me because, like I said before, safety is an everyone problem. Safety is built together.

It is built by honoring your immediate needs and finding others to join you in it so you can weather it together.

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These places and practices — the pillowfort, the text to the friend, the plan you cling to — these are the pauses where we learn the truth of ourselves before trying to “fix it.” When we engage like this, we build the muscle memory of care, both in our minds and bodies. And that practice — that messy, awkward, deeply human reality — is what allows us to begin deeper, more lasting work in knowing ourselves.

Of course, safety isn’t something we build once and keep; it’s something we keep building together, over and over again. In small ways. In imperfect rooms. In the quiet moments between crisis and repair. That is the work. And that is you, helping remake the world into something that can finally hold us all.

And maybe — or maybe undoubtedly — that’s the whole, entire point.

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Call to Community:
Visit Your Local Food Bank, No Matter Your Needs

We are living in and through increasingly hard times.

Just like last week, when I cleaned out my closet and gave away my extra jackets to people standing on the side of the road, and dropped the rest off at a local shelter, this week, I want to again offer a community call to care.

This week, our community call is to physically visit your local food pantry.

Whether it’s to donate, volunteer, bring in a few needed items, or get the support and nourishment you need and deserve, there’s power in going in person. (Remember, mood follows action.)

So, see the space. Thank the staff. Offer a donation or receive support. Physically witness that there is goodness in your community that you are a part of. Let your body register that care still happens here, between real people.

And if you’re not in a place to leave your home right now — if you’re fighting for your own survivaland unable to do this — please know that you are still part of this truth of goodness and care. Everything you do to keep yourself going matters.

It all counts. Especially since taking care of yourself is the foundation for all that’s to come next.

As always, I wish you a day.

Kindly,

Kate