Finding Home & Your Safe Space: Chiron, Childhood, and the Space to Be

A story about healing, self-trust, and becoming what I once needed.

June 5, 2025

In our lifetime, we all have moments we could call hurts or woundings—that internal scar no one can see, likely rooted in childhood. It’s that part of you that begins to heal as you grow and tend to it. Whether through therapy or time, all wounds can heal—if we want them to.

In astrology, the part of the chart we attribute to this wound is the asteroid Chiron. We call him the Wounded Healer. In mythology, Chiron was the one who trained all the heroes. And it was at the hand of one of them—Hercules—that he was wounded. Not on purpose, mind you, as many of our wounds aren’t purposefully given, but wounded just the same. Since Chiron was immortal, this deadly wound did not kill him—but it did leave him hindered. Eventually, as the story goes, he found a way to move through it. And in doing so, he helped others do the same.

That is what Chiron represents in our chart—the wound or hurt we may have experienced in childhood or even past lives. The one we learn to heal so that we can help others do the same.

What does that have to do with a "safe space to land"?

Good question. I have another one for you…

When you hear the phrase "safe space to land," what comes to mind?

• Is it a place—like your favorite room with cozy chairs?

• Is it a person you can talk to anytime, knowing they’ll be there for you?

• Is it a feeling, like when you take that cleansing breath and your shoulders finally relax?

• Or… is it something you’re still searching for—longing for—wondering when it will be within reach?

That last question haunted me the most while growing up.It doesn’t haunt me now. Maybe my journey toward answering it will help you, too.

Childhood Wounds

The first thing to understand is that much of my childhood is missing from my memory. My father died by his own hand just a few weeks before my second birthday.

It took many years for me to understand that this was part of my wound to heal. We were told not to talk about how he passed—or about him at all. It just wasn’t something we did. So, I didn’t… until 7th grade.

Growing up in a single-parent family is not easy.

It’s not easy for the parent who has to do it all.

And it wasn’t easy as the child in that home either.

I lived in fear that if my mother died, my sister and I would either end up on a dairy farm or in a house in a city far away from everything I knew and loved.Living in fear eats at you. It makes it hard to find safe spaces. Instead, it puts you into survival mode.

That’s what I now know a good part of my childhood was.

And yet… there were people who tried to help us feel safe—better yet, safe enough to just be kids.

The first was our daycare provider, who cared for us during the week while my mom worked. That home was my first experience of a second family. Her two children felt like siblings. We had chickenpox together, survived the famous Blizzard of '88, and walked to school just down the block. We were often the first to arrive and the last to leave.

The second safe space was the home we stayed at on the weekends my mom had to work. My sister and I shared a bedroom and a TV there. That’s where I fell in love with tea, yellow tomatoes, White Castle sliders, Klondike bars, and Saturday morning cartoons. I lived for waking up early to get lost in the imaginary world of the Smurfs, Snorks, and Looney Tunes.

I loved that space so much that when we had children of our own, I told Rita and Larry they’d be grandparents to our kids, too. It’s a sacred honor to be a grandparent—your job is simply to love the grandchild. And oh, how they did. They did it so well.

It was in those spaces I started to feel safe.

Loved.

Appreciated.

And when you feel those things, it becomes easier to find safe spaces again.

Growing up

We had to say goodbye to our daycare home when I entered 7th grade. Even though I had lived in that community my whole life, I didn’t know anyone at my new school. I wondered if I’d fit in—with only two pairs of jeans, my “good” tennis shoes for gym, and last year’s pair for everyday.

I was scared. Anxious. Looking for a safe space—again.

And I found it.

I found it in the friendships I made over the years.I found it in orchestra classrooms and the trips we took. I found it in the school newspaper, where I learned to roll film, develop it, and tell stories that mattered. I found it in the guidance counselor I finally opened up to about my dad. I found me there. The real me. The one I couldn’t always be at home, where I was constantly bracing for what might come next.

At school, I could be present. I could live.

Edging into young adulthood

When my youngest was touring colleges, he asked how he'd know which one was right. I told him it would feel like home.

That’s what St. Kate’s was for me. The moment I stepped onto campus with my mom, I felt peace—so unlike my everyday life. I knew it would be my next safe space.

During those years, I learned how to advocate for myself—and that it wasn’t selfish to do so. I had chosen St. Kate’s because I didn’t yet know if I wanted to be a nurse or a teacher. They offered both. It wasn’t until I begged for a D- in Anatomy and Physiology that I realized nursing wasn’t for me. Within a week, I’d switched majors and classes and started the second semester of my sophomore year on a new path.

It was within those walls that I learned who I was, what I valued, what I’d tolerate, and what I wouldn’t. I also learned that sometimes a space that once felt safe no longer does—and that it’s okay to walk away when that happens.

It was during this time that I met my husband—shortly after my high school sweetheart and I broke up. We were introduced through a friend and ended up going on a date. When he brought me home, I knew he was the man I’d marry.

That realization scared me, and I told him the next day we needed to just be friends. And we were—until it became more about a year later.

I found in him a safe space to land… even if it took time for me to realize I was allowed to land there.

How do you know when you found it?

Today, my safe space includes many spaces.

It includes trusted friends, some of whom have been by my side since 7th grade.

It includes my husband—the love of my life—who I’ve been with since February 29, 1996.

It includes all the homes we’ve created together.

It includes our children—and being their safe space, too.

Because when you can be fully yourself, you become a safe space for yourself.

When you can take a cleansing breath, you can ground yourself again. When you have someone you can call and say, “I just need to vent,” and they do the same with you—that is a safe space.

Maybe yours is a physical location.

Maybe it’s a person.

Hopefully, it’s also something within you.

How does that relate to Chiron?

Well… when you find your own safe space, you can help others find theirs. Just like Chiron did for the heroes he trained in the myth.

My husband and I have had the privilege of being a safe space for our children and our friends—to show up as their authentic selves.

It’s because our oldest found a safe space in us that they felt safe enough to come out.

That is a gift I don’t take lightly.

So, if you’re still searching for your safe space—know that it’s out there. Both within you and around you.

Chiron in your chart can help point you toward it. Mmine is at 26° of Chiron and starting June 10, 2025 I will be experiencing my Chiron Return which will last through part of March 2027.

And once you find it, the healing can begin. To say healing is never fast is an understatement. Yet it does happen if we allow the time to have it happen. It helps if you have those "safe spaces to land".

From there, you’ll be able to guide others as they begin their own journey.

Thank you for being part of mine.

With love,

Sarah