My mum once said to me that the downside to technology is that it lets people in. I remember thinking to myself how crazy that was and how much I didn’t agree. Granted, at the time, I hated my home and the people I didn’t want to let in were my parents, so technology has little to do with my discontentment or my general displeasure with my life. I didn’t think of it as my safe space because it wasn’t all that safe. I don’t mean my parents beat me (although I did get hit a few times for good reasons) and they fed me and put that roof there. But they suppressed me. They emotionally attacked my self worth. They gave me no freedom, no privacy, no choice. Even down to what bedding was on my bed, I didn’t have a choice. I swapped that emotionally pain for a whole different kind of pain: no guarantees.
My mom emotionally tortured me for years for that decision. Apparently, in the big wide world its much harder to look after yourself. Why not just go home, where hot water is free. But is it? is it really? I would ask. Because here’s the thing, if i didn’t do as I was told, the hot water was taken away. If I didn’t do something the way I should have (which, let’s face it, all teenagers have a habit of doing) then the hot water was taken away. If I made a mistake (see above parentheses), the hot water was taken away. So you see, the hot water isn’t free. It’s earned. Much the same way as If I were paying for it myself. However, paying for it myself involved… putting money in and hot water coming out (Yes, it’s a metaphor, I hope you understand)… the ONLY way the hot water would stop, was if I stopped paying for it. Now, my mum might see that as hard to manage, but in my eyes, it was much more simple. There was much less guesswork than trying not to be a teenager when I was actually a teenager.
Obviously, this applied to many other concepts not just hot water. A working phone, somewhere to sleep, a night without being screamed at to name a few. And over the years I grew capable of existing in squander or less than ideal housing situations, simply because I was in control. For the most part anyway. Being a skint young person I obviously cut the odd corner and then got left in the lurch when my teenager behaviour once again allowed the pillows to fall away from under my head.
Roll on to a few years ago when I was offered a safe space. B’s home. Whitewashed walls, sparkly clean kitchen with all amenities, a comfy bed, unlimited internet, clean carpets and a bath that didn’t suffer from mould. And all I had to do? Pay £200 a month and keep the place clean. And what did I do to lose it? Nothing, really. Except find out that, whilst I was happy in the two bed cosy place, B was not. B had higher aspirations that involved hefty mortgages and big bills and commitment I just didn’t want to give. B wanted 2.4 kids and a 4×4 Volvo. He wanted all those aspects of modern family life that I had scorned at over the years whilst watching my own parents attempt to put what they ‘want’ over happiness. Look how that ended up. However, in truth? B’s house probably was the closest thing to a safe space I ever had. Too bad the person I was sharing it with didn’t play a big part in my life. Lesson learned there somewhere.
Rock on to today. To all intents and purposes, I am homeless. I have fallen out with K in a way I have no idea how to come back from (hello stupid teenage behaviour and worries that I spoke about a few blog posts ago). Another friend has taken me in. A third mutual friend has posted on the book of face, a series of posts involving K. Heart, say hello to my stomach…
Suddenly, sat in the pokey flat of a friend I don’t know very well, I realised what my mum meant all those years ago. Technology threatens peace because it allows the world outside you are hiding from, into your head. Because your head is where the peace needs to be. And the world outside is what theoretically you should be hiding from. But what happens when the world inside your home is the scary part? When you’re a teenager, there is no peace in your head. You’re lucky enough if you get space from the craziness for a second to remember to wash the dishes. As an adult, that headspace is much more settled (provided you have grown up enough) and it is much easier to find the peace. As an adult, I can close the door on it, as a teenager, the door had no lock and was considered a privilege not a right. The world outside offered choices and a chance at happiness.
Sadly, had my mum known that she was the cause of my grief, she might have understood why I needed to leave. But as an adult I have realised that it doesn’t matter who your parents are, where you grow up, what mistakes you make, it’s rarely possible to shut the door on your parents when you live under their roof. But maybe, if my mum had let me do that, I would still be at home. She would have created a safe enough space that I wouldn’t have wanted to venture out into the big wide world. I would never have tackled the issues that I did, and never have become the person I am.
And who am I now? How far have I come? Have I actually gotten myself to a better place? Not really. I think I’ve just gotten really good at coping with life. Coping with living in discontent. Avoidance is my best friend. Distraction comes a close second. Alcohol and drugs make it all possible. I’m still coasting, I’d almost convinced myself that the world is never safe and therefore I should just learn to deal with it and have fun rather than wasting my time and energy on some relentless search for safety. How wrong was I.
Now I know myself a bit better, I know my safe space really needs to come from me. I can’t just live on someone’s sofa or in their spare room, doing favours and coasting by. I can’t rely on happiness to make such temporary spaces feel safe, when actually they are not. Its okay that I am able to coast this way but I need stop thinking it’s safe. The door can come down any moment, just like when I lived at home. I might need a semi decent kitchen, clean carpets and a bathroom without mould. I’ll need a parking space and some outside space and a front door that locks. Something small and manageable but something that is mine. I’ll need friends and people around me to fill my social need but I’ll need to be able to close the door on it when I want to be safe.
I know what a safe space is now. I just need to create it myself this time.
FaerieFalls 