My safe place

Munch’s preschool class has a “safe place” in her classroom where friends can go to express their emotions in a safe manner.  They can be sad or mad.  There are pillows and cushions all around.  It’s in a quiet little corner of the room.  I thought this was a great concept, so we have adapted it to our own home.  Munch’s “safe place” in our house is her bedroom. 

I too have a “safe place”.  The mom’s room, as it is affectionately called at my office, was my safe haven.  I no longer use my “safe place” since I am no longer expressing breast milk.  That little conference room was my escape throughout my really rough patches of my PPD and PPA.  There was a couch, a chair and a table.  The blinds were drawn, and there was paper over the window as well, ensuring total privacy.  It was nearly sound proof.  I could barely hear anything outside those four walls, especially while the breast pump was pumping away.

I shed so many tears in that room.  I also suffered from a few panic attacks in that room.  Once I began researching postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety, I would read my books trying to understand how I could help myself heal.  I used this room to do yoga and do some deep breathing exercises.  I called my mom, my sister and my therapist from that room.  I am forever grateful to have had a “safe place” in which to let myself feel and just be.