love is safety, not an island

Millions of Americans just wrapped up another season of Love Island. If you’re living under a rock, Love Island is an endless loop of bikinis, steamy kisses, and what looks like affection, but feels more like performance. It’s the kind of “love” I used to chase, too. The sparkly on the outside, but hollow and lonely when the cameras cut kind of love.

For most of my life, I thought love had to be big and obvious. I thought it had to sweep me off my feet and leave me breathless. I mean, that was how it was on Love Boat, a show I loved when I was a kid. I believed love was about intensity, passion, and always being wanted.

But here’s the thing: being wanted isn’t the same as being safe.

I didn’t really know that until I met my husband.

He didn’t try to impress me. He didn’t put on a show. He was just…steady. Present. Kind. Dependable. He didn’t need me to perform or prove myself or have it all together. There was no manipulation, no having to guess where he stood. With him, my nervous system slowly stopped bracing for impact. I could breathe. I could be fully me.

That’s when I realized something huge:
Love, for me, is safety.

It’s not just emotional safety, though that’s a big part of it. It’s physical safety. Spiritual safety. Nervous system safety. It’s the safety of being with someone who sees all of you and chooses not to flinch or fix or flee. Someone who doesn’t use your vulnerability as leverage. Someone who creates space, not pressure.

Now that I’ve experienced that kind of love, it’s changed everything about how I want to show up in the world. I want the people around me (my friends, my family, my clients) to feel emotionally safe with me. I want them to know they don’t have to earn my presence or perform for my approval. I want to be the kind of person who makes others feel like they can exhale. And I want those kind of people around me, too. I won’t settle for less anymore. It’s too exhausting.

Because love isn’t loud or performative or dramatic. It’s not what we see on TV. It shouldn’t drain you, it should fill you up. It’s not a highlight reel or a plot twist.

Love is not loud or flashy. Sometimes, it’s just the quiet knowing:

I am safe here.

And once you’ve felt that kind of love, you’ll never settle for anything less.