I haven't done EMDR... But the whole safe place thing threw me for years.
Come to find, my idea of safe & other people's is a little, um, wildly different. Meadows & shit freak me out*. Talk about feeling exposed. No thank you.
I've got 2. In someone's arms, or in the armory. And both are less visual and more sensory. Smells, tastes, weight, light, sounds, air movements, textures, etc. The nice thing, is that when I'm lost in my mind, both of those places come to me. Whether it's a person walking up to me and pulling me away, or suddenly finding myself strapped, locked, & loaded.
Thing is, I'm busy. I don't have time to go to some f*cking safe place. So instead? I've got backup and weapons coming to me. And pulling me out. First they're there. Then that's different, so that disrupts the memory because that's not accurate, which is blinking room. And by the time I'm done blinking over the confusion? I'm tumbled up in bed with bare skin and heartbeats or in a concrete room smelling cold steel and CLP and everything clean and the silence heavy.
I surf... So I did try that one for years. The power of the waves, the shiver of fear skimming over coral, the broken nose as the board pops up (even my "think of a beach" is a little screwy :rolleyes: ) came close... But I still had to "go" there. And my sense of responsibility is all outta proportion. The beach is where I go to have fun. Where I go to relax. To blow off some steam or find some balance. Not where i go to feel safe. Fun & Safe are wildly different animals. But mostly? It's that sense of responsibility. I can't even leave memory people alone to go f*ck off. Especially not when a memory has even a shade of guilt over it already. If I view it as my fault even a hair? I can't leave. Not to be safe, while they're dead or dying. Much less to have fun. So I need a mobile response team to come haul my stubborn ass out.
* LOL... I sat with one therapist for a few hours once and listed out something like 40 zillion counters to each of their suggestions. Not to just be a knucklehead. Because my mind goes to f*cked up places. Flowers? Graves. Houses? (14 versions of not secure). Mountain tops (mountain crevasse rescue, pass). Et cetera. So there's also that. I've never been overly concerned about safety. That's what I make for others, not for myself. Nowhere is safe, really. Safety is a feeling, not a reality. So where do I feel safe? In someone's arms, or about to strip and break down weapons and load up. But I still can't go to them. They have to come to me.