I watched a documentary recently about the life of an international superstar who would cut out every magazine article or interview or photo shoot of himself and send it to his dad. Why?
"I wanted to earn his approval," the superstar admitted. And isn't that like all of us? We crave the need to be seen, heard and valued, especially as children. And if that did not happen in our young years, we can grow up with an insecure attachment. This means we've developed strategies to get emotional needs met that helped as a child but aren't so helpful as an adult. In fact, many of our relationship issues -- poor communication, fear of abandonment, need to control the other person -- can be traced to our attachment issues as a child. But it's never too late to gain secure attachment. How? 1. Secure attachment will come from a person similar to our caregiver as a child, like a spouse or elderly mentor. Determine which of YOUR behaviors toward that person keeps you from creating a secure relationship. 2: What do you believe about your relationship? Where is the evidence? If there is no evidence, abandon that belief which is based on past experience and not relevant today. 3: Learn to express and tolerate your emotions in a healthy way to increase attachment security. 4: Communicate and listen empathetically to others to build understanding, respect and feel connected. 5. Activate emotional self-care practices like journaling or meditation. Insecure attachment took time. Likewise, secure attachment needs dedicated and intentional time to establish.
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It scares me to watch my children tubing behind a speed boat. My anxiety soars. I’m terrified, if they fall into the water, they will get hit by another boat. And my fears are not calmed the more I watch.
Why? Because there is no such thing as trauma tolerance. Being able to “bare” anxiety or fear or abuse or neglect doesn’t mean we become “used” to it. Our central nervous system amps up EVERY SINGLE TIME a trigger brings us back to the first time we felt that way – our original trauma. We are off, not ourselves, dysregulated. We never get “used” to getting hit, hearing hurtful words, being fired. But, our bodies are wonderful things. They develop strategies to cope with the dysregulation and adapt to the situation to keep us safe. In my case, strategies include the following:
It may APPEAR we become “used” to the situation and can tolerate the dysregulation. When in reality, we’ve simply developed ways to cope – for better or worse. The only way to truly deal with the trauma is to heal it. "Perfect children" are often the loneliest. No one has to dote on them or pay much attention. They are self-sufficient and responsible. Which leads them to feeling unimportant and unloved.
Can you relate? It’s easy to listen to this voice as an adult – when a co-worker interrupts us or a friend doesn’t text us back or our spouse doesn’t pick up after himself. It coerces our coping strategies to come out in more “mature” ways:
Because we believe the message is a universal truth. But it isn’t. As children, we learned who we were by the reactions and care of our parents. How they viewed us became how we viewed ourselves. However, as adults, we get to take the POWER back. Now, WE get to decide. So, where do we start? When we hear “you are unimportant” through the actions of others, we can to do 4 things:
This is a daily practice to undo the voice, undo the lie and come into the truth about our worth. When I was a college freshman, a few dorm girls became annoyed with my friend group – claiming we acted “so perfect.” Finding it funny, my friends decided to make and wear T-shirts proclaiming their accusation, which simply read “I’m perfect, what are you?”
Truth be told, no one is perfect or dons any likeness to perfection. Which is why, even when it comes to parenting, even with the best intentions, even with the goal in mind, we slip up. We might be establishing secure attachment with a child one minute and then say hurtful, spirit-breaking things the next. So, how can we still move forward despite the mistakes? In mental health, we call the breaking of attachment “rupture.” The bond is severed. The lifeline cut. This can happen with words or actions or events. The trick to fixing the rupture is called “repair.” This usually happens in steps:
Yes, it may feel anti-authoritative to humble yourself toward a child, especially if you grew up in a “respect your elders” environment. However, we are letting the child feel seen, heard, cared for and important when we acknowledge his pain from our behavior. What’s more, we are also demonstrating the healing power of repair we want him to exhibit some day to others. In an argument over screen time one afternoon, my son tried to convince me he NEEDED to use his computer. But I wasn’t listening. I talked over him. I shamed. I shook my head. This went on for 10 minutes until he clenched his fists, leaned in and yelled, “Stop interrupting me!”
At first I was taken aback. How dare he talk to me that way. How dare he talk when I’m talking. How dare he challenge authority. But he was right. I wasn’t modeling what I wanted to instill. And I was humbled. It’s hard to admit we when we’re wrong, especially when it comes to our child. It’s even harder to admit we’ve hurt him to the point of affecting his behavior and self-worth. But there is hope. We can heal him. We can undo the tangled trauma responses he’s developed from our parenting. And what’s more, we can do it with just. one. step. Establish secure attachment with the child. That’s it! Secure attachment is creating a safe and understanding bond with a child (at any age). By nurturing the space between us, the child learns he is unconditionally loved and is safe to be his messy, emotional, quirky self. Over time, he begins to love himself and the world around him. We can establish secure attachment numerous ways. Here are few:
The key is to make the child feel seen, heard, cared for and important. One of my former friends was diagnosed with ADD as a child. Her whole young adult life was medication and living up to the label of her brain “not working like it should.” She used her diagnosis to explain missing deadlines, missing plans or missing conversations.
As I chatted with her one day, I asked if it was possible she never had ADD and it was just a series of responses to something that happened in her childhood. She divulged that her older sister left for college the year before she was diagnosed, and she never talked about how hard it was to be the only child in the house. To protect herself from feeling sad, she disassociated and distracted herself. Her brain was in fact working EXACTLY like it should have to keep her safe. Before we label symptoms of trauma as malfunctions of the brain, it’s important to take a look at what a child’s behavior tells us. If a child feels out of control, he may do the following to gain power:
If a child feels unheard, he might do the following to accept he is not worthy of someone listening:
Similarly, if a child feels unheard, he might do the following to demand someone hears him:
If a child feels unloved, he may do the following to earn approval:
While a child’s behavior can be a natural part of their development and something they outgrow, when it becomes innate, it doesn’t hurt to take a closer look at the “why” behind the “what.” When I had my son, I was bombarded with advice:
And, in trying my best to create the “perfect” child (because of my own trauma), I inadvertently caused some sort of trauma in his life. Because, as parents, we all do. No matter how “good” our intentions, we always fall short. How? Our children ask us every day:
And how we choose to parent, answers those questions. For instance, say a six-year-old cries out after hitting his head on the playground railing or throws a tantrum when a friend isn’t sharing or begs to sleep with the light on. If we consistently respond with our own trauma strategies – “you’re fine, not now, deal with it, stop it” – we inadvertently tell that child over time:
And the child learns:
If a child hears these messages long enough through our parenting, he will eventually stop asking. Because he’s come to believe the answer is no:
And it’s these messages he will carry into adulthood as trauma. |
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