Is it all your mom’s fault?
No matter what the “it” refers to, Freud would have probably said yes to that question. However, he also claimed that “psychology…is unable to solve the riddle of femininity,”, so it is really great that, even though he’s regarded as the father of psychoanalysis, we’ve kiiinda moved further from Freud’s theories, and based new ones on a lot more data instead of taking one random village boy and interpreting his equinophobia as a fear of his dad chopping his dick off because he felt threatened. I cannot help but wonder how his mom took it when she read his theory about the Oedipus complex though.
Why am I like this? is a question I pose to myself maaaybe too often. Be it when I fall on all fours in the middle of my living room for absolutely no reason other than my sheer clumsiness as my mind is always someplace else (& not due to alcohol, I swear), or when I find myself doing something utterly self-destructive beside having the awareness that I’m doing myself major disfavour (this time maaaybe alcohol, but who are you to judge). Why we all turn out the way we do — for better or worse — has been a hot topic of discussion in classrooms and clubs alike. Just the other day when I was out, I saw a girl crying in the bathroom while her friends were giving her “valuable insight” on why the guy she was seeing was behaving some way. Not sure what the conclusion was, and even less sure it was useful. Anyway.
Relationships of whichever kind are crucial to our survival, be it according to biology, neuroscience, psychology, or other disciplines of research. Has to do with hormones, our nervous systems, the alignment of the stars, whatever — if you want to know more — Google it, you’re not in the right place if you’re looking for scientific evidence here. As we are, our “adult” relationships are also influenced by our childhood experiences, but instead of being Freud and blaming all on his mom, scholars are now looking at the happy dance of all the elements that shape how we relate to the world.
So, even though upbringing has a lot to do with how much of a jackass someone is, we really cannot pin everything on our parents — there’s a myriad of factors like nasty siblings, snarky extended family, bullying peers, and flawed society, all contributing to our #ChildhoodTrauma. And, often, along the way, we fuck us up ourselves. Sorry not sorry to anyone avoiding taking responsibility here.
Having embarked on that (in retrospect darn) journey of “understanding the whys”, last summer I came across the attachment theory. I had read about it surface-level before, and, of course, taken online quizzes to check what I would get (spoiler alert: I got that wrong too), but hadn’t given it much thought until I was — willingly or not — thrown in hot water.
Attachment is sort of the fuel of interpersonal relationships — it gives them power, can be quite toxic, and little effort is put into reducing emissions and getting to a sustainable option. And it’s been connected to all sorts of health-related issues, from depression to heart health. Not to drag it out a lot, attachment essentially is the relationship schema we have formed in our heads when we were teeny tiny babies with no idea about what life actually is and decided that it is what other people are going to represent to us, forever. Talk about efficiency.
There are, however, events that alter our attachments, usually, things that cause some upheaval like the birth of a sibling (*winks at sister*), loss of a loved one, and even relationships themselves, especially during what they call “young adulthood” — when you’re too old to blame shit on your raging teen hormones and too young to know that the rest of life entails just as much improvisation. Attachment is not limited only to romantic relationships, and, recent research shows that it is not uncommon that we exhibit different attachment styles across different ones.
Depending on the degree to which relationships make us possessive or have us running for the hills, there are 4 different types along the 2 axes: anxious/preoccupied, (dismissing) avoidant, disorganized and secure. And apparently, people with secure attachment make up about 50%-60% of the population.
a. I don’t know any of those… individuals
b. I would like to see some backed-up statistics to find that actually believable
Being a person with anxious tendencies (read: anxiety), I thought my attachment style goes along with it, like those couples in matchy outfits. Plus, previous questionnaires had confirmed it, so it must be true, right? Wrong. Turns out, my perception of how I am vs how I actually am were as similar as mashed potatoes and gravy. In essence very different, but can pair well, especially with pickles added. Not that some amount of anxiety wasn’t an ingredient in the mix, it was just that it was also nicely spiced up with a tablespoon of avoidance. Hi, I’m Jane, and I’m disorganized (and I have a junk-full kitchen drawer to prove it).
The disorganized attachment style is also known as a fearful-avoidant because guess what? — you get the best of both worlds! Not only does it mean that closeness to and vulnerability with other people mean like… a lot to you, but also that those same things truly terrify you! Why keep it simple when it can be complicated? Should’ve known I wouldn’t have been able to pick one thing and stick with it anyway. So, what does it mean? There are certain traits shared by most of us lucky 5% that share these dilemmas on a daily basis.
The fact that I am conflict avoidant should’ve been a signal, I guess. “Heated” discussions stun me to the extent that I sometimes need to physically make an exit. Disagreements make me feel like I’m taking a bus ride on +40oC with no A/C — sweaty, uncomfortable, and would give a kidney for it to be over. I’d much rather nicely bottle up the issue, put a shiny sticker on it and shelve it than let it spill over and make a mess that could potentially stain stuff — at least that’s how I (used to) perceive it.
And it doesn’t apply only to quarrels — the context is as wide as a German Autobahn. It appears one of the traits is my forgetting of important conversations, for example. Anytime I have a chat that brings about intense feelings, I turtle in — pull my head back in the shell and wait for the “danger” to be over. On the outside, I just look… calm. I’m half-smiling and sparingly blink, an expression which, I’ve heard, leads onto nothing. And in my head, all my emotions are running in circles, screaming, and pulling their hair off, wondering how the fuck they should handle the situation (even though most likely they had rehearsed that same conversation up in Brain Central a dozen times before).
What I find upsetting is that it’s not that I don’t know what to do in those situations, which questions to ask or what to say — I just can’t? A system override simply happens and the amygdala takes over like a rogue software that detects threats where there are none and misleads me to click all the wrong buttons in a panic that something bad is going to happen, and I do the opposite of whatever I’d like to say or do. The defence is up. Then, the display freezes. Screensaver: on.
Another thing that I’ve always been proud of is my total independence, when in fact, it’s just another trait - having an innate inability to ask for help or, God forbid, rely on someone. Self-sufficiency FTW! If you don’t count on people, they can’t disappoint you, right? People can rely on me, but vice-versa… eh. I’d rather crawl to the pharmacy than call someone when it’s clear I need to be taken care of, probably on several accounts. To all the close ones I’ve hurt with this behaviour — I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. Really.
Also, the need for space. Both literally and figuratively. Though I’m an Extrovert with a capital E, I need my re-charging time where I do nothing but scroll videos on TikTok or just lie down on the carpet in my living room in peace and quiet, away from humanity. On a daily basis. Interactions sometimes make me uncomfortable, like someone has come too close or is “intruding” the space I need around me to function, without feeling like they are holding a chloroform hankie over my mouth. What’s maybe difficult to understand is that it has nothing to do with how I feel about the person, it just sometimes happens that I get all jittery inside as if I’m being physically glued to a situation, and I. Don’t. Like. Being. Sticky.
There are a bunch of other ways in which it manifests — for example, it’s also why I love organizing but don’t like labels (and there is a whole article in my head about it waiting to be written). Fortunately, I’m not on the far end of the disorganized spectrum but hold some “golden” middle ground. Much like a milden Indian dish really — zinged enough so it is spicy, but not as much that it makes you sh!t all over. And I’ve put in the work to change it. There’s still more to do, but I do deal with important conversations much better. I still put up a guard when it becomes “too much”, but I focus on the whys. And, most of the time, it works.
I hadn’t always been like this (suspicions are that this brought me here — thanks Lars). Even now, I’m not always like this, and not with everyone. My attachment, like that of others, sometimes wavers depending on the relationship in question and the person in question. We don’t live each on our own island — and what the other person brings to the emotional table can trigger different responses.
Not all relationships we have are attachment bonds. Not every person we love is an attachment figure. And we don’t find every situation threatening to the self that it elicits a strong emotional response. Also, I’ve recently learnt that there is such a thing as acting by proxy and relying on the anxiousness or avoidance of the other person to dodge intimacy. Much possibility. Such complexity.
We love people for who they are, but we also love people for who we are. How we feel around them, how we see them, how seen we feel with them. But vulnerability takes courage to let other people peel the layers of our onions and see what is on the inside that makes us who we are. Knowing that though it might make them cry, it is okay, and they will stay. And that even if they don’t, we are still whole. An insecure attachment style can get in the way of that.
I’d tell you to take the test, but our brains are biased, manipulative bastards that are going to sway the results in a way that it’ll fit its pre-existing beliefs. So, unless you can be brutally honest with yourself and look at your behaviours in an objective way, especially in highly emotional relations — don’t waste your time. What you can do though, is to set to act out of a place of love, in any relationship. Oftentimes, it really comes down to just making a pick between the red pill of love and the blue one of fear. Practice choosing the red. Real connection is the only way to live a life in colour.
Thanks for reading ✌🏻
Some (hopefully useful) resources:
The Attachment Style test I’ve been talking about — proceed cautiously, if you do
More about John Bowlby, the pioneer of attachment theory
Mary Ainsworth and her Strange Situation experiment on infant attachment
Book on attachment: Attachment Theory in Practice: Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT) With Individuals, Couples, and Families by Susan M. Johnson
Paper on the flexibility of attachment styles, University of Illinois (2010)
Article: An Attachment Bond isn’t in Every Relationship. Here’s Why.
Video by The School of Life: The Challenges of Anxious-Avoidant Relationships
Therapy. Seriously.
