Tea, Sunset, and Safety: Creating space to recover

Back when Aarti moved into her new apartment, it didn’t feel like home. The walls were plain, the curtains too thin, and there was a strange echo that made her feel… exposed. After a long day at work, she’d come home, drop her bag on the floor, and sit on the edge of her bed, scrolling her phone in silence. Something always felt “off”, but she couldn’t quite explain what.

She wasn’t in danger. No one was shouting. No doors were slamming. But her body never seemed to relax. Her chest felt tight. She startled easily. And sometimes, late at night, her thoughts would spiral, past memories, imagined futures, that uncomfortable feeling of being “on guard” even in her own space.

It wasn’t until her therapist asked her, “Where do you feel safe?” that she realised she had no answer.

Why safety isn’t just a feeling

For many of us, especially those who’ve experienced trauma, “safety” isn’t something we take for granted. It’s not just about whether the door is locked or the neighbourhood is quiet. Safety is about how the nervous system feels.

When our body perceives a threat, even a subtle one like emotional tension, unpredictability, or past trauma reminders, it activates a survival mode. 

Aarti didn’t realise it, but her nervous system was still carrying the echoes of years of walking on eggshells during childhood.

One day after therapy, Aarti walked into her local market and spotted a small lamp with warm yellow light. She bought it. Then came a soft rug. A tiny plant. She started clearing the clutter from her bedside table. She added a photo of her niece, someone who always made her smile.

Little by little, her room began to change. But more importantly, she began to feel different in it. Her body received a message: It’s okay to breathe here.

A note from my own life

I have a little safe corner too, out on my balcony. It’s filled with plants and a gentle swing that rocks softly with the breeze. I’ve placed a soft rug underneath and in the evenings, I sit there watching the sunset with a cup of tea and the soothing scent of incense curling into the air. On hard days, it helps me shake off the tiredness that clings to the body. And on most nights, it gently invites sleep in, helping me rest more deeply.

That space isn’t just a part of my home. It’s become a part of my healing.

The brain loves predictability and comfort

What many of us don’t always realise is that our bodies are always listening to our environment. This is known as neuroception: the brain’s unconscious ability to sense whether we are safe or not.

Our environment plays a huge role in this.

• Soft textures and warm lighting send signals of calm.

• Predictable routines (like evening tea or morning journaling) tell the brain it’s safe to shift out of survival mode.

• Visual cues like calming art, personal photos, or affirmations remind us of connection and belonging.

  
  

Gentle ways to begin

If you're not sure where to start, try this:

• Choose a space in your home, even a small nook and add something that feels calming (a blanket, a lamp, a scent you love).

• Notice how your body responds when you’re in that space.

• Practice self-talk that’s kind and grounding: “Right now, I am safe.”

  
  

Your safe space doesn’t have to be fancy. It just has to be yours. A gentle ritual. A favourite chair. A deep breath. These small moments aren’t trivial, they’re crucial to healing.