When I was a kid, I "built" a fortress inside myself. Actually, I thought of it as a fortress but it was more like a medieval castle. I could visualise the thick stone walls, the towers, the battlements, etc. I kept adding to it as the years passed. That was where I went when I dissociated. I could close the gates behind me and it was as if I was isolated from what was happening to my body...
That was my safe place. When I was inside my fortress, nothing could harm me.
But I also have a second safe place. This one is real - it is rock on a deserted stretch of coastline where I once sat, less than a year after quitting drugs. It was the first time I was consciously aware of being happy. I sat there for God knows how long, exploring this new feeling... Now, when I need a safe place in therapy or anywhere else, that is where I go - the rock I sat on that day, watching the waves, watching the fog come in, getting to know that thing called "happiness". Of course, it is much more about the emotions of that day than about the actual place, but still... imagining myself sitting on that rock always helps me to calm down.
So my point is - it could be real, it could be imaginary. It doesn't matter. You could make something up especially for this, as long as you can immerse yourself in it enough to feel safe...
I guess what I'm trying to say
Is whose life is it anyway because livin'
Living is the best revenge
You can play
-- Def LeppardMy Story
, Part 2My blog