When we Create Space, it Allows Others to Move Towards Us

Some Thoughts on Attachment Patterns

For a long time, I was caught up in anxious tendencies. Ones where I felt and thought if I didn’t do x, y, or z, I would get left behind, forgotten, or abandoned. Showing up, performing and proving my goodness was the way I existed in relationship to others. But inevitably it left me more alone, more anxious and more hurt.

So how does that happen?

In childhood, we form our earliest and most significant relationships with our caregivers. As babies our entire universe, survival, connection and needs are dependent on other people. Those people, as loving as they may be, are also flawed and human. They have their own histories, capacities, stressors and limitations.

When caregivers respond in gentle, warm and attuned ways that are consistent and predictable, we have the opportunity to develop a sense of trust with others, with ourselves and the world around us.

When responses are more inconsistent, however, we may begin to wonder which version of our caregiver we’ll experience that day. Sometimes they’re present and available to our needs, and sometimes they’re not. We can begin to develop strategies that make getting our needs met feel more likely. We protest, we cry, we yell, we scream. We reach and move towards. Our attention becomes focused on the other. Will they show up? Can I trust? Am I safe?

Sometimes, the person we depend on for safety is also the person who feels scary. They may yell, show aggression, respond unpredictably or react strongly to behaviours that seem otherwise mundane. The person who provides safety, trust, consistency and care can also become a source of fear. This is a complicated bind for a child to make sense of. We may begin to internalize messages like “I must not be doing this right”, “something is wrong with me” or “I’m bad”.

For some, this may lead to moving towards others in an effort to maintain connection. For others, it may mean moving away, shutting down or learning to rely heavily on themselves. Often these strategies can shift depending on the relationship and the circumstances.

These ways of being, these strategies, are not good or bad. They made sense in the environments in which they developed. They offered a way of adapting to what felt “safe” or at least safer. I am placing “safe” in quotations here because, as many survivors know, defining safe can be complicated. For some, the word itself can feel almost moot.

And then we grow up. As adults we can become more cognizant, more present and more curious about what is alive in us. We can feel it in our bodies. Name it. Befriend it. Notice the patterns and chose to interrupt them.

Most of us are doing some version of this dance within our most intimate relationships.  The space between where I am and where you begin. The letting down of our walls. The invitation for closeness. How to step in without completing fusing. How to give and how to receive. How to create enough space so that the other has room to move towards us.

If you see yourself in this, you’re not alone. Drop a comment and share what resonates