Unraveling Safely: Why Relational Safety Matters More Than Perfection

Or why we chase perfection when we don’t feel safe to be real

Hello! How are you today? Thanks for reading - or listening - to these Daily Rambles.

I’ve been thinking a lot about language and words. Not surprising, I suppose, as I’m writing. A while back, probably years rather than months, I shared with someone that I was striving to be technically brilliant at writing, to have the sense that I was mastering this crazy craft. But the more I write, the less important I think that is - or, indeed, something I want to focus the fleeting moments of my life on.

The guidelines and guardrails we live our lives alongside and within are so often unconsciously gifted. How our parents shaped our thinking, both in direct and indirect and positive and negative ways can be the foundation for a lifetime of self knowing as well as self-censoring and judgement. How our friendships in adolescence and beyond call us into the mass, and morass, of collective thought can shape our choices, our desires, and our paths in life and thinking.

Midlife and adversity are rich sources of self reflective moments, where we begin to unpick and unpack if we really want something, like something, or are something. Unravelling the constructs of ourselves can feel quite challenging though - as if we were a knitted person, and once the last stitch is pulled, there would just be a pile of wool left.

I’m not sure we can unravel to that extent when we get to these middle ages. Despite unravelling quite a lot myself, the core of who I am remains. Sometimes, silent and aloof, other times loud and unforgiving. The key tool for us to unravel safely ( which feels like it should be an oxymoron) is relational safety - having someone we relate to, whether they’re in real life or online. Because we don’t unravel into a void, we unravel into connection, and this can keep us from dropping below our baseline.

In knitting, there’s something called a lifeline. Do not ask me how I know that, I am SO not a knitter!

(This is my attempt at knitting that I got bored with and gave to my brilliant friend, Joy, who had to unravel it. No lifeline!)

A lifeline is a piece of wool or yarn that threads through every stitch of one row. It’s there as a preventative measure in case you need to unravel your knitting at some stage, and means you can unpick everything to the lifeline, knowing that what is below it will remain in place.

And rather than think in proactive, protective lifelines, I can look back and see that reactive, defensive barriers were the most familiar way to manage the unpicking of the knots of my experience.

When we’re not feeling relational safety - that is to say, we don’t feel a sense of security, emotional safety and psychological safety in our relationships - it is incredibly hard for us to feel a sense of security, emotional safety and psychological safety in ourselves.

So the responses and beliefs and thoughts become defensive, not expansive.

We judge so we’re not judged.

We inadvertently become the attacker before we are attacked.

And of course, this tends not to be in overt ways. We build our protective forts from routines that keep us steady and safe, shields from perspectives and judgements that reinforce our own beliefs, and battle plans from all the shoulds, coulds, and why nots of civilised society. I could ramble here about civilised not meaning healthy, but I won’t. Let’s just leave it that our battle plans help protect us while allowing us to fit into the norm - again, that’s relational safety of sorts.

My desire for technical excellence was definitely a ‘yeah, but’ if my words weren’t resonant or received well. Striving for ‘better’ so I wouldn’t be judged on the parts that are intrinsically me.

“Your writing is rubbish, and what were you going on about in that post about Capitalist Realism? Absolute tosh. A waste of my time.”

“Yeah, but it was beautifully constructed and technically excellent.”

But that isn’t the goal.

(And yes, I know, it wasn’t beautifully constructed and technically excellent. I’m cool with that.)

We can find ourselves striving so no one thinks we’re lazy, unworthy, or not trying hard enough.
Striving to prove we belong.
Because perfection is easier to chase than rejection is to feel.

Sometimes we call striving drive, motivation, passion. And sometimes it is. But often, it’s protection in disguise.

Here are a few ways I’ve noticed we strive:

• Over-preparing for conversations, meetings, or messages so we never risk sounding stupid, unpolished, or too emotional.

• Seeking credentials, certifications, or achievements as a way to “deserve” to be heard, rather than trusting that lived experience is enough.

• Becoming the expert friend or the helper because if we’re always useful, no one will consider or challenge our worth.

• Hyper-independence masquerading as capability because if we need nothing, we can’t be disappointed.

• Being busy as proof of value because rest without guilt feels risky and unsafe.

• Striving because we don’t really trust ourselves to just ‘be’ ourselves.

And, of course, the classic: striving to fix others - so we never have to sit with the parts of ourselves that aren’t neat and compliant. And with our children, so they never have to go through the emotional turmoil we did, or so they can get out of it as quickly as possible - or so we hope.

When striving becomes armour against judgement, that’s interesting for me. I see it in myself so much and I am fighting, Monday to Friday at least with these Rambles, to challenge it. To show up whether what I write resonates with you or with me. To commit to the unvarnished truth of what I have to offer now, today, and to unravel the mass and morass in my mind, on a journey of creative ‘who knows what’. I’m damned sure it won’t be technically excellent, but that’s not the point.

What if we didn’t need to be so defensive because we’re intrinsically safe and enough as we are?
What if we were allowed to strive with ease, if we chose to, and rest in pleasure?
What if our value wasn’t in our output, but in our presence?

That’s what relational safety allows: a gentle softening of the striving. A lifeline that holds us, even if we unravel right back to the last good stitch. Because the other stitches are still in place and the needles will be click-clacking again before we can say “well, she went on a merry Ramble today, didn’t she?!”

And I did. Thanks for reading it.

You can listen to today’s Ramble here: