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Charles McQueen
A Reframing of How We Understand Connection
This essay is a reflective exploration intended for anyone who has ever struggled to feel safe in love, partners, therapists, educators, or simply those seeking language for something they've always felt but never named. It challenges one of our most popular relational frameworks and expands it by introducing a vital, often invisible component: felt safety.
In contemporary relational discourse, the concept of “love languages” has become nearly axiomatic. First introduced by Gary Chapman in his popular 1992 book The Five Love Languages, the framework categorizes expressions of affection into five modes: words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. These categories have provided many with a useful vocabulary for identifying their relational needs and expressing care more intentionally. Yet beneath this elegant system lies an unspoken presumption: that love is, foremost, about expression.
But what if it is not?
What if, for some, love is not about being impressed, praised, touched, or delighted—but simply about being safe? What if love, in its most profound articulation, is not a language of performance, but a condition of nervous system regulation?
Love as Felt Safety
Calling safety a love language is not an addition to Chapman’s five. It’s a return to the foundation beneath them all. Safety is not a form of affection. It is the precondition for affection. Without it, affirmation feels hollow, touch becomes invasive, and even quality time can feel performative. Safety is the soil in which all other expressions of love must take root to grow. It’s easy to overlook because it’s quiet. Safety doesn’t demand attention. But in its absence, none of the other love languages can flourish.
Attachment and the Nervous System
From an attachment theory standpoint, the need for safety in relationships is not merely emotional—it is biological. Humans are wired for co-regulation. In infancy, love is not conveyed through praise or gifts, but through presence: the sound of a familiar voice, the return of a trusted face, the absence of unpredictable threat. These sensory experiences shape the nervous system. They create the foundation for secure attachment—and later, for adult intimacy. When someone says, “I just want to feel safe,” they are not being vague. They are speaking from the body. Often, they are not seeking romance or reassurance. They are seeking regulation—an environment where their nervous system can stop bracing and simply rest. In this light, love becomes less about what is said or done and more about what is felt when you’re with someone. It becomes the difference between surviving a connection and thriving in it.
Safety Through the Five Love Languages
Understanding safety as foundational doesn’t mean discarding the five love languages—it means seeing them differently. Below, we revisit each category through the lens of nervous system safety: how it enhances connection, how its absence distorts it, and what it looks like in practice.
1. Words of Affirmation: When Praise Feels Trustworthy
What It Looks Like When SafeAffirming words—compliments, encouragement, appreciation—only land when the relationship is emotionally consistent. When safety is present, a simple “I’m proud of you” can offer deep reassurance. The words are trusted because the emotional environment is stable.
When Safety Is Absent In an unsafe dynamic, praise can feel manipulative or hollow. It may raise suspicion instead of comfort. “I love you” becomes a trigger for anxiety rather than assurance, especially for people who’ve experienced hot-and-cold emotional behavior.
How to Make It Safe
Match words with emotional consistency.
Offer praise without using it to distract from unresolved issues.
Avoid backhanded compliments or sarcastic tones.
Let words affirm without expecting a specific reaction in return.
2. Acts of Service: When Help Doesn’t Have Strings
What It Looks Like When Safe Doing something kind or helpful can be a powerful way to express care, when it’s freely given. A safe act of service doesn’t demand recognition or repayment. It’s just a thoughtful response to someone’s needs.
When Safety Is Absent, Service can become a covert contract: “I did this for you, now you owe me.” In relationships where emotional control is present, help can feel like a trap. People may become hyper-vigilant about receiving support, fearing there will be hidden costs.
How to Make It Safe
Offer help with no strings attached.
Avoid using service as a substitute for emotional availability.
Ask before acting: “Would it help if I…?”
Allow the recipient to decline without guilt or consequence.
3. Receiving Gifts: When Giving Isn’t About Power
What It Looks Like When Safe Gifts communicate care when they reflect thoughtfulness, not obligation. A safe gift says, “I see you,” not “You owe me.” The value lies in the intention, not the price or impact.
When Safety Is Absent, Gifts may feel transactional or manipulative. If someone’s affection fluctuates based on how a gift is received, or if gifts are used to make up for harm without real repair, the act becomes unsafe.
How to Make It Safe
Give without expecting praise or reciprocation.
Avoid using gifts to paper over conflict.
Ensure the gift aligns with the other person’s comfort, not your agenda.
Don’t use giving as proof of your worth—let it be an offering, not evidence.
4. Quality Time: When Togetherness Isn’t Tense
What It Looks Like When Safe Quality time is about presence. Not productivity. Not pressure. Just shared space where both people can exist without performance. Time together becomes restorative, not exhausting.
When Safety Is Absent, Time together can feel loaded or evaluative, especially in dynamics where one person is critical or emotionally unpredictable. Instead of rest, the time becomes a test.
How to Make It Safe
Make shared time emotionally low-stakes.
Include space for silence or low-energy connection.
Don’t use shared time to confront, control, or critique.
Build routines and rhythms so time together is dependable.
5. Physical Touch: When the Body Feels Respected
What It Looks Like When Safe Touch becomes powerful when it is consensual, attuned, and emotionally grounded. It says, “You’re safe here.” A hug or hand on the back can regulate stress and deepen trust when it is offered with care and permission.
When Safety Is Absent, Touch may trigger anxiety, especially for those with trauma. Even well-meaning affection can feel like pressure or a threat if it isn’t attuned or wanted. Without consent, touch isn’t love—it’s intrusion.
How to Make It Safe
Ask, don’t assume: “Is this okay?”
Watch for nonverbal cues and adjust accordingly.
Accept a no without defensiveness.
Remember that safety is emotional as well as physical.
When Silence Doesn’t Scare You: A Real-World Moment
A friend once said to me, “I don’t need someone to say they love me. I need to know their silence doesn’t mean I’m in trouble.” That sentence captured something essential. In safe relationships, silence is neutral. It’s restful. In unsafe ones, silence becomes a form of punishment or passive aggression. It communicates disconnection, not peace.
Safety means being able to sit beside someone and not brace for what comes next.
The Existential Dimension of Safety
To feel safe in love is to feel permitted to exist. Not a curated version of yourself. Not the high-functioning, emotionally digestible self. But the real one. The tired one. The one who sometimes needs too much. The one who doesn’t always say the right thing.
Love, in this sense, becomes less about earning affection and more about being allowed to stay.
Conclusion: Toward a Deeper Lexicon of Love
To speak of safety as a love language is not to criticize the original five, but to reveal what they all depend on. Without safety, even the most thoughtful acts of love can misfire. With safety, even the smallest gestures can hold deep meaning.
We do not all need gifts.
We do not all need touch.
But we all need to feel safe.
This truth shows up quietly. In therapy rooms. In late-night conversations. In the middle of ruptures, we don’t yet know how to repair. “I just want to feel safe.”
That longing isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. And it’s time we gave it the dignity of a name.
Maybe we don’t need to add a sixth love language. Maybe we just need to remember the one that makes all the others possible.
Safety is not how we express love. It’s how we receive it.
