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Quiet Preparedness

I am allowed to prepare for my own safety. Preparation is a form of love for the life ahead of me.

What if preparation had nothing to do with paranoia — only with the same quiet acknowledgment you would make for a long winter or a hurricane season? You stock the pantry. You learn where the flashlights are. You think about whom you would call. None of that means the worst will happen. It means you are loved enough — by yourself — to be ready.

You are allowed that kind of preparation.

⚠️ A note before any of this: A safety plan itself can be dangerous if discovered by someone who would use it against you. Never keep a written safety plan where the person you fear might find it. For many survivors, the safest plan is the one that lives in memory alone—rehearsed gently in your mind the way you might walk through a fire drill. Other safe places for any written piece: a trusted advocate, an attorney, a shelter worker, a friend or family member holding a sealed envelope for you; a safety-deposit box in your name only at a bank branch they don't use; an encrypted file on a device they have never touched, with a passcode and recovery email they have never seen. Do not store a safety plan in shared accounts, family cloud storage, personal email they may have access to, or anywhere in a home you currently share. If you are still living together, build the plan from a computer they cannot reach (library, friend's, work, advocate's office).

The quiet pieces of preparedness:

A few places, held in mind, where you could go if you ever needed to leave quickly. A few numbers, carried somewhere safe, that you could call in the middle of any hour. A small bag of essentials—identification, medication, a little money, a phone charger, copies of important papers—kept somewhere outside your current home, with someone you trust or in a safe-deposit box. Copies of the documents that would be hardest to replace, kept off-site. A code word with a trusted friend that means I need help now.

If there are children in your life, you can have age-appropriate conversations with them, too. The simple things — who to call, who is a safe grown-up, that telling you the truth never gets them in trouble.

None of this is hoping for the worst — it is honoring the life you intend to live. There were held-in-mind places. There is now the small bag. There will be the steady knowing that a plan you never need is a plan that protected you anyway.

Today's Truth · Day 58 of 365

Preparation is the love letter I write to the life I am still going to live.

My Harbor · By Bandy Jacob Strawn

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