This weekend, I had a small outing with my partner and his family to a very cool park that I hadn't been before but had wanted to visit for some time. The park has historic significance as it once held a smallpox hospital as well as a lunatic asylum during the mid to late 1800s. I've always wanted to see the remnants of the hospital, and getting to do so felt surreal since it was something I thought I would only get to see in pictures. It's funny when I think about what my anxiety deems as "safe"; as if I can only be "safe", "good", or "well" under very specific circumstances or conditions. Safety isn't something that I need to receive from outside of myself, rather it is something that comes from within. Every time I go outside and explore places, I remind myself of the fact that I don't have to cling to safety every second and that feeling unsafe (i.e. anxious) is human. I'm not striving to feel in control all of the time, instead the goal is slowly expanding my sense of what safe even means and recognizing that things don't have to go exactly as planned for me to be happy. Glad I got to see this place!
