"Safe" Emotional Spaces

“Is it safe to talk about politics now?” I jokingly asked as I crossed the threshold of my cousin’s house on Thanksgiving night. This was the first Thanksgiving I had spent with my side of the family in years, and it was the second stop of the day for me. My joke about politics was a reference to the fact that my family members, like most, have divergent political views. While my cousin’s family and I share similar views, my joke was more a commentary on the fact that I was entering a safe space for discussion – any discussion, regardless of the topic.

I have spent my career focused on creating a safe physical environment – an environment that protects people from unintentional injuries (e.g., traffic crashes, fires and burns, drownings, falls, poisonings, etc.) and violence (e.g., suicide, child abuse, domestic abuse, etc.). But the past several years, I’ve also come to more fully understand the importance of creating “safe emotional spaces.”

I went to my cousin’s house on Thanksgiving not to talk about politics with like-minded family members, but to spend some time in the company of my aunt and uncle. I’m ashamed to admit that I have not seen my aunt and uncle or my cousin in more than a year. My uncle is the sole survivor of my father’s siblings; the last of my grandfather’s children to walk this planet.

There has always been a special bond between my uncle and me that I can’t explain or describe. Perhaps we share a need to question the status quo; a need to forge our own path instead of accepting society’s expectations. I don’t intend to romanticize my uncle’s life. He will be the first to tell you that he has made mistakes. But he is also first to own his mistakes. As he has aged, he has become gentle in his advice, generous in his love and praise, and reserved in his judgement of others.

Instead of complaining about unmet expectations, he has embraced the life he has. This past summer, he took his family to Hawaii and invited his daughter-in-law’s family to join them. They are planning a trip to Alaska next. He jokingly told me that he is spending my cousin’s inheritance. I feel safe in saying that the memories of those trips probably mean more to my cousin than any inheritance.

As we talked that evening, my uncle asked if it was “safe” to bring up an issue he knew that I had been struggling with over the past months. In the next few minutes, I poured out my heart to him. And he listened. He didn’t give me any advice. He didn’t say that he would pray for me. When I had finished, he just quietly said, “I’m sorry that this is the situation and that you are having to deal with it, but I trust you to make the best decision for you.”

I know that people mean well when they want to “fix” your problems, but the best course of action is just to be present and hold off on the worn-out platitudes and advice. My uncle gave me a gift on Thanksgiving for which I will always be grateful. He gave me confidence and his love. He gave me a safe space.