Finding Emotionally Safe Relationships

I was inspired to write this article by a fellow Medium author, whose recent piece deeply resonated with me. His reflections moved me to share my own thoughts on a topic that comes up often in my work as a therapist: How to process our feelings within relationship, especially when sharing them doesn’t bring the relief we hope for. (I’ll link his article here, as he expresses these ideas beautifully.)

As a therapist — and as a parent — I often talk to my daughter about the importance of not keeping feelings bottled up. I encourage her to share her emotions with someone she trusts. But what happens when opening up to someone you care about — a friend, family member, or partner — leaves you feeling worse than before? Do you stop sharing, thinking this advice is flawed? Or do you keep hoping that, eventually, they’ll understand?

The answer didn’t come to me professionally, but personally, through my own struggles. Old childhood wounds and current challenges led me to seek support from others, only to be met with advice, problem-solving, judgment, invalidation, and even gaslighting. Instead of feeling supported, I felt more alone — just as Shaant described in his article. This experience left me questioning myself and wondering if something was wrong with me for feeling this way (shame).

We often seek in the present what we didn’t receive in the past.

For me, I looked to my adult relationships — friends, partners — for validation because I didn’t get enough of it from my parents growing up. My parents did their best, but because I was noticed when I did something pleasing to them, I learned that my worth was tied to my performance, not simply my presence. I slowly began to shape-shift myself to always present what I thought the others would want, in a constant bid to be seen. So as an adult, when I didn’t receive the validation I craved from others, it only intensified the wounds from my past — and left me feeling even more invisible.

Looking back, I realize that some of what I was seeking from others was an unfair expectation. But the desire for genuine connection and emotional support is a normal, healthy human need. The challenge is: How do we seek support and connection without projecting our unmet childhood needs onto others, and without feeling hurt or unseen in the process? And receive it back.

For me, the answer has been to identify and nurture emotionally safe relationships — and to reserve my most vulnerable feelings for those spaces. Emotionally safe relationships are those in which I know my presence is enough. I don’t have to perform or earn acceptance. While my friends or family may have their own opinions, they never judge me for my choices. They offer love and acceptance, no matter what. It doesn’t mean I always like what they have to say, but I know that I am enough for them.

I used to think I was a burden because I always seemed to have something difficult to talk about, and someone always had to listen to me. But I’ve come to see that in emotionally safe relationships, I’m not a burden — because I would do the same for them. The people who make me feel like I’m “too much” or always complaining are often the ones who can’t really hear or see me. They also tend to evaluate me based on my performance and if it aligns with their own beliefs, rather than simply who I am. For a long time, I used to try to make myself bigger to be seen by people like this, thinking that was the only way. Now I know that these relationships are just not emotionally safe.

This may seem obvious to some, but for others — myself included.

Knowing what an emotionally safe relationship feels like can be unfamiliar.

For years, I thought my relationships with my parents were the blueprint for all relationships. It wasn’t until my 40s, after a lot of inner work, that I realized these foundational relationships weren’t always emotionally safe. I was never belittled or called names, but my concerns were often minimized or dismissed, and I was met with advice when I just wanted to be heard. Because this was my first experience of close relationships, I didn’t know things could be different.

If you’re unsure what an emotionally safe relationship feels like, start by asking yourself: Do I feel better or worse after talking to this person? Do I feel understood or misunderstood? Most importantly, do I feel okay about my feelings, or do I feel wrong or bad for having them? If you feel worse, misunderstood, or ashamed, the relationship isn’t emotionally safe. That doesn’t mean you have to cut this person out of your life, but it’s important to recognize what you can and cannot expect from them.

The lesson I’ve learned, both as a therapist and as someone still on this journey, is to hold your cards close — but share them with your safe people. Like Shaant says, your emotional space is sacred and ought not to be given to just anyone. The other day at ballet practice, my daughter tried on her costume, immediately developed a rash from the sequins and her teacher told her “you think that hurts, wait until you try point shoes”. This was upsetting to my daughter who went to an adult for help and was dismissed. She felt (understandably) upset, and I then heard the teacher ask her if she was “still pouting”. No wonder my daughter doesn’t want to go to ballet anymore. She loves to dance and is a natural at it, but the safe person in the class is the opposite of safe, she hurts.

My advice to my daughter remains: Feelings can be transformed when we share them with people we love. The caveat is that the people we love must also be people who are emotionally safe — it’s not the same thing. And my most important job is to show her that by being an emotionally safe relationship figure for her.