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Creating Safe Spaces Through Shared Trauma: A Reflection on Trust, Empathy, and Connection

This topic came into focus after a recent conversation with a close friend. In reflecting on the experiences of women around me—each of whom has endured some trauma at the hands of men—I began to consider why they might feel safe in my presence. This question led me to think about my own life, particularly the early experiences that seem to share some of the same pain points. These reflections reveal a journey of connection built not on words alone but on a shared understanding rooted in resilience and empathy. I realize, too, that my distrust of men—including the masculine aspects of myself—has hindered my journey toward becoming an integrated, embodied individual. This conversation helped me see the parallels between my own healing and the safe space I strive to offer others.


Understanding Trauma and Safety


Trauma leaves a lasting imprint, often impacting trust and vulnerability. For many women, finding a sense of safety—especially with men—is a challenge. This sensitivity is something I’ve developed carefully over the years, particularly through my personal journey of healing and self-awareness. I aim to offer an authentic and grounded sense of safety, not by taking on a specific role but by simply being present.

Growing up, I watched the women in my family navigate their own traumas. After my parents’ divorce, I spent several years living with my mother, aunt, and grandmother. During those years, men seemed defined by the trauma they had caused, and I seldom saw examples of positive masculinity. My family shared painful stories about their experiences with the men in their lives—partners, fathers, grandfathers—and I absorbed those perspectives, shaped by my family’s European roots and the aftermath of WWII, which gave them a unique view on trauma and resilience.


In this environment, my view of masculinity became coloured by distrust and caution. For years, I distanced myself from the masculine aspects of my identity, even feeling as though embracing them would somehow betray the pain I witnessed. This early exposure to trauma, filtered through stories and personal encounters, laid a foundation for my approach to safety—one that’s cautious yet committed to empathy. While my experiences might not mirror the specific traumas of others, I understand, at a visceral level, the vulnerability that arises when trust is lost.


Empathy Rooted in Personal Experience


The empathy I extend to others, particularly those who have experienced pain, is deeply rooted in my own life story. Reflecting on my past, I see how internalized pain, sensitivity to criticism, and an early need to protect myself shaped my interactions with others. These experiences drove me to connect deeply, sometimes blurring my own boundaries. To counteract this, I’ve become especially strict with boundaries and self-care, recognizing the importance of protecting my own energy.


Empathy has been both a gift and a challenge. I can connect intensely with others’ emotions, which makes me vulnerable to emotional exhaustion. I’ve had to learn to set limits, especially when my natural instinct is to give more than I can sustain. In my work—whether in coaching, photography, or teaching yoga—creating a space free of judgment has become essential. This approach helps me honour both myself and those who choose to work with me.

One piece of feedback from my yoga teacher training has stayed with me: I was told I’m skilled at encouraging others to stay within their own abilities, finding balance and comfort where they are. This, I realize, is also where I stand out as a photographer. I’m not just creating images; I’m holding space for people to feel seen without pressure or expectation. This sensitivity helps me connect with others in a meaningful way, creating spaces where people feel safe to show up authentically, however, they may be feeling in that moment.


Creating a Safe Space for Others


I also recognize that creating safety requires boundaries, both for building trust and for protecting my own well-being. Growing up, gentleness and validation were rare, and I was often left questioning my own worth. This was especially true during the years I lived with my mother and her second husband. He was a man with unresolved trauma, which coloured every interaction and reinforced a sense of inadequacy in me. I felt as though I was a burden, merely “endured” until I would finish university and leave. The reality that I wasn’t seen or valued as a true part of the household made me feel like an outsider, not just in his home but also within myself.


The experience left me determined to find my own sense of worth, often through independence. When I left Canada to live in Japan, it was partly a quest to rebuild my self-worth in an environment where I could shape my identity without external expectations or judgment. These experiences taught me to value others genuinely, without judgment or expectation, and to be mindful of the dynamics in any space I create or enter. This approach—grounded in empathy, respect, and a commitment to non-judgment—is foundational to why women who have experienced trauma may feel secure in my presence.


I also recognize that when someone trusts me to be a safe presence in their life, it is not a role I take lightly. Each person’s journey is unique, and I’m careful to approach their experiences with sensitivity and respect, without presuming to know the full scope of their story. Instead, I offer presence—a way to show up authentically and consistently so that others feel empowered to share their truth without fear of judgment or misunderstanding.


Navigating the Responsibility of Being a Safe Space

Offering safety and empathy to others can be both rewarding and exhausting. My personal experiences have left me with a sense of hyper-responsibility, and I’m often sensitive to the needs of others, sometimes to my detriment. Through coaching and my embodiment photography work, I’ve learned that strong, clear boundaries are essential to avoid burnout.


This role brings up complex feelings, including moments of self-doubt and a recurring question: Am I enough? Holding space for others can trigger old insecurities and fears of inadequacy. Yet, I’m learning that true strength lies not in fixing anyone’s problems but in being present as they navigate their own paths. This perspective has been vital in helping me stay grounded and connected to myself, even as I offer support to others. Over time, I’ve come to see that while empathy can be draining, it also has a reciprocal power—allowing us to build genuine connections that nourish both sides, provided the balance is respected.


A Shared Journey of Healing


My journey of offering empathy and safety without losing myself in others’ experiences has been gradual and ongoing. By recognizing that healing is a shared journey, I’m learning to honour my own growth and the unique connections I’ve built along the way. This reflection reminds me of the importance of embracing my role as a safe presence, and understanding that I am valued for my commitment to creating spaces where healing can flourish.


Each connection, I realize, is part of a larger journey toward self-acceptance and trust. I may still struggle with my own worthiness, but in these spaces of mutual respect and care, I find a path toward a deeper understanding of both myself and others.

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