Safety Changes Everything About Who We Become

Last night, during our quarterly NLP graduate community call, something landed in me more quietly than I expected.

These calls aren’t designed to deliver information.
They’re meant to create space.

Space to slow down.
To notice what’s actually unfolding.
To speak from inside the experience, not above it.

We invited Ruby Fremon into the room, and she opened the conversation by speaking about the liminal space.

That in-between place.
The chapter between chapters.
Where you’re no longer who you once were, but you’re not yet anchored in who you’re becoming.

I’ve heard that language before.
I’ve facilitated people through it.
I’ve named it from stage.

But sitting in the call, not teaching, not guiding, just participating I felt it land differently in my body.

Then she asked a question I know well.

Who am I?

That part wasn’t new.
I’ve asked it of myself.
I’ve invited rooms full of people into it.

What shifted wasn’t the question.

It was what came after.

After we wrote down our answers — the roles, traits, identities we claim — Ruby invited us to look again.

Not who am I… …but which of these feel like something I’m wearing and which feel like something that is simply me.

Which identities function like armor.
Or a jacket.
Or a life jacket.

Things I learned to put on to feel safe.
To belong.
To be accepted.
To survive.

And which parts feel intrinsic as if they’d exist even without validation, performance, or witness.

That distinction landed deeper than I expected.

Because it reframed identity entirely.

Not as aspiration.
But as protection.

Not “Who am I becoming?”
But “What parts of me were built to survive?”

As the conversation unfolded, I found myself sharing something I've spent years navigating.

How many of the traits I’ve historically been praised for — strength, resilience, leadership — are absolutely real parts of me…and also adaptations.

Formed in environments where being those things wasn’t just celebrated, it was necessary.

And it brought up a quieter, more honest inquiry:

Where does my authentic identity end…

…and where do my survival strategies begin?

Not as something to judge.
Just something to notice.

Because noticing is often where change actually starts.

I hear people talk constantly about moving from survival to thriving.

But Ruby named the space most people skip entirely… what lives between them.

Living.

Surviving is bracing.
Getting through.
Keeping the system running.

Thriving is expansion.
Optimization.
Fulfillment.

But living?

Living is learning how to move through life without survival energy driving every decision.

Not hustling for peace.
Not earning rest.
Not proving you’re safe by staying productive.

And if you’re honest, you might already know this

You’re not exhausted because you’re doing life wrong.

You’re exhausted because a part of you is still organized around survival… and it doesn’t yet trust that it’s safe to let go.

Then we touched a word that has always made my system tighten.

Surrender.

It’s everywhere in growth spaces.
“Just surrender.”
“Let go.”
“Surrender control.”

I’ve never liked it.

Sitting in this conversation, something clarified.

It wasn’t intellectual resistance.

It was nervous system truth.

The word itself felt like giving something up without consent.

When Rudy shifted the language to allowing, everything softened.

Allowing felt participatory.
Choice-based.
Self-led.

Same direction.
Completely different internal response.

And I realized how many people aren’t resisting growth

They’re protecting parts of themselves that once kept them alive, because letting those parts die still feels dangerous.

Language matters.
Not just for understanding but for whether change feels possible at all.

By the time the call ended, I wasn’t walking away with conclusions.

I was walking away with questions I know I’ll keep sitting with.

Looking back at the identities I wrote down.

Asking myself:

Which of these am I still wearing because they feel safe?
Which no longer fit the life I’m building — even if letting them go feels risky?

And underneath all of it, a quieter question:

Where might I still be mistaking the life jacket for who I am…simply because I don’t yet trust the water?

Because sometimes what once protected us… doesn’t loosen its grip until safety is established.

Sitting with this, I’ve noticed how subtle the distinction really is.

How easy it is to confuse what once kept us safe with who we actually are.

And how often we call it discipline, or drive, or commitment, when what’s really happening is a survival identity holding on for dear life.

Not because it’s wrong.

But because it doesn’t yet know it’s safe to step aside.

So if you sit with anything from this, let it be this, not as something to fix, but something to notice:

• Where are parts of you still clinging to survival because letting go feels unsafe?

• What identities no longer have room in the life you’re building — even if they once served you?

• And where might the work be less about surrender… and more about establishing enough safety to allow something new to live?

You don’t have to force anything to die.

You don’t have to surrender today.

Sometimes the most honest work is simply creating enough safety that what’s no longer needed can loosen its grip on its own.

That’s not weakness.

That’s wisdom.

If you want to explore this work more deeply, I genuinely recommend connecting with Ruby Fremon and her writing.

I’ll link her Instagram and Substack below so you can find her voice and spaces directly.

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ruby.fremon/

Substack https://rubyfremon.substack.com/

They’re worth stepping into.