The Power of Presence: Finding Comfort in Love

There have been many moments where I’ve found safety within my friends and family. I turn to them in both good and bad times, and I’m always met with understanding. These moments of care and presence have shaped how I understand love and safety. But there’s one moment in particular that made me feel deeply loved, comforted, and safe.

I was going through a really intense meltdown after coming back from a concert I attended earlier in the evening. I had a great time at the concert, enjoying some of my all-time favorite bands playing, but something in me felt fragile that night.

I’d become so overwhelmed by the crowd, the constant movement from seat to seat, the noise. They were all moments that led me to spiral into a panic attack. There were times where I had to leave the venue just to get outside to catch a deep breath.

And the surprising part? Someone actually chose to forgo the concert and spend time with me to make sure I was okay. That choice alone showed me what it feels like to be cared for, and it meant more to me than she probably knew.

I say surprised, because I literally was. I had no idea that anyone had cared enough to lessen their experience to be with me during my time of an emotional breakdown. I’d felt so seen, so understood in that moment that it made my worries dissipate and my mind calm down enough for us both to go back and enjoy the remainder of the concert.

But later, when we got back to a friend’s place to hang out, everything came boiling to a head again, and I just cracked. Shattered into a million pieces. It felt like every emotion I ever felt came spilling out. A friend noticed my distress and just held me in his arms. And instead of pulling away like I usually do, I let him hold me.

I cried heavily and rather loudly, might I add. But the thing that really made me tear up even more was the fact that someone cared enough to help me through it. They let me rant and drop all of my messy emotions into their ear without judging me. Moments like these taught me that love isn’t always about words—it’s about being present when it matters most.

They simply kissed my forehead, cradled me gently, and helped bring me out of the meltdown instead of trying to rush me through it. They listened without judgment, offered reassurance when it felt right, and simply knew how to hold me with care.

I felt so seen, so accepted, and so loved—especially in a moment where I felt most vulnerable. That night showed me what safety in love can really feel like: being allowed to fall apart and still be held. It reminded me that real support doesn’t fix everything—it simply holds space for you to be yourself, fully and unconditionally.

When was the last time you felt truly safe and held? What made it feel that way?

“Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go.” — Hermann Hesse