The Friends No One Else Could See

Post 2 of the series: Held by Something Older

Many of us had a friend once that no one else could see.

A presence in the corner of the room. A companion in the woods behind the house. Someone — or something — that seemed to know exactly when we needed company, and never once asked us to explain ourselves.

We were told, usually, that we’d made it up. An active imagination, the grown-ups called it, in that tone that was warm on the surface but didn’t take it seriously underneath. And so, most of us folded that friend away somewhere quiet and stopped mentioning it. We learned to call it pretend.

But what if it wasn’t only pretend?

What that companionship was actually doing

When home felt unpredictable, or love came with conditions, many of us found steadiness somewhere else — in a presence that asked nothing of us, judged nothing about us, and simply stayed. That kind of companionship isn’t a childish substitute for the real thing. It’s often the first form of unconditional safety we ever found.

Some of us sensed it as a friend. Some of us felt it as an animal who seemed to watch over us. Some of us just felt accompanied — less alone in a house that could feel very lonely.

Whatever form it took, it was doing real work: giving a young nervous system something steady to lean on when the people around us couldn’t be that for us yet.

Even if it was born out of loneliness, it may also have been our first experience of being cared for without conditions.

And here’s the part worth sitting with — those presences don’t always disappear just because we grew up and stopped looking for them. Many of us can still find our way back to that kind of companionship now, on purpose, with a steadier hand guiding the way.

A small practice: Remembering Who Was There

This takes about ten minutes. You don’t need to remember every detail — just an impression is enough.

1.          Get comfortable, and let your mind drift back to somewhere between ages five and ten.

2.          Ask gently, “Was there a presence, a friend, or a creature who felt like it was on my side?”

3.          Don’t force an image. Let whatever comes, come — a shape, a feeling, a color, a sense of temperature or warmth.

4.          If something arrives, simply notice it. You don’t have to name it or explain it to anyone, including yourself.

5.          Offer a quiet thank you — to that young version of you, for finding a way to feel less alone.

6.          If a presence or companion showed up, thank it too — out loud or silently — for what it gave you back then. Gratitude tends to be the doorway back in.

7.          Invite it into tonight. Before bed, ask quietly, “Will you watch over me tonight?” Some people picture the presence at the foot of the bed, or just outside the door. You don’t have to see anything for this to work — just extend the invitation and let your body register the difference.

8.          Ask it to have your back somewhere specific this week — before a hard conversation, a meeting, an appointment. Ask directly, “Will you be with me for this?” You’re not looking for proof. The asking itself is often what settles the nervous system.

9.          Give it a small, repeatable place in your day going forward — a hand over your heart, a nod toward the trees out the window, a breath before you get out of the car. Small, consistent gestures tend to rebuild this connection faster than one big, dramatic invitation ever could.

10.      Let it stay simple. You don’t need a ritual, a belief system, or anyone’s permission. Honest, ordinary contact is enough.

That’s the whole practice. Some of what surfaces might feel obvious. Some of it might feel like nothing at all, and that’s alright too — this kind of remembering, and this kind of reconnecting, often happens in layers. The felt sense of not being alone doesn’t have to stay in memory. It can become available again now, in daily life.

If something stirred — or didn’t

Some of us find, once we go looking, that those early companions are still available to us — steadier now, easier to reach, still willing to accompany us through what’s hard. If this practice brought something forward that feels worth exploring further, that’s not something you have to make sense of on your own.

If childhood wasn’t especially peaceful, there may be quite a lot standing between you and that kind of remembering — old programming, protective patterns, or trauma that never got the chance to clear. That’s often where deeper work, like an EMDR Intensive or a Spiritual Transformation session, can help you find your way back to the steadiness that’s still there underneath it all.

And if nothing came up at all, and you never had a companion like this growing up — it’s not too late to get connected now, with ancestors, spirit helpers, your council of elders, or Jesus. If you’re curious what it might feel like to have a guide, protector, or companion now, that’s exactly the kind of exploration I love walking people through.

And if it’s something more recent getting in the way — a recent event, or a situation you’re still in the middle of, making it hard to feel steady or connected right now — there’s a gentler starting point. It’s a group-guided practice for entirely individual processing — a structured, evidence-based protocol called G-TEP, the Group Traumatic Episode Protocol. Everyone’s guided through the same steps together, but the material you work on is entirely your own: nothing is shared with the group, and you never have to say your story out loud. It’s EMDR at its gentlest.

I co-facilitate this group with Lisha Song, LMHC, MEd. Our next session is September 28th at 6:00pm, via Zoom. Learn more or register at www.GroupEMDRofWA.com.

With Love and Light, Deanne

P.S. If your reading of this newsletter is as sporadic as my publishing of it, here’s what you may have missed:

You Don’t Need More Fixing — You Need Alignment Real power doesn’t come from pushing harder. It comes from alignment — listening to the fire already burning inside you instead of trying to force your way to peace.

Healing the Habit of Self-Abandonment: Boundaries, Nervous System Healing & Genuine Presence The more regulated, grounded, and aligned we become, the more authentically we can love, serve, and show up — not from exhaustion, but from genuine presence.

When You Keep Explaining Yourself — And It Never Feels Like Enough When we consistently explain ourselves, we’re handing someone else the verdict on our worth. A close look at where that habit comes from, and how to set it down.