It's like I got this music in my mind
Saying it's gonna be alright
When I say, "I've been doing some pretty intense attachment work in therapy lately," I suspect some of my dear readers will hear something like, "I really think this amethyst amulet is aligning my chi," or, "This tiny $60 bottle of scented oil has changed my life." It's a little cringey, I know. We've talked about that whole therapy is difficult to put into words most of the time deal, so you'll just have to trust me.
Attachment work. A minefield of memories and feelings, victories, failures. We talk about how the attachment relationships we had as infants affect us even now. We pull our interactions apart to inspect the layers of communication. I say a lot of, "I don't know," and, "Am I making any sense?" and my therapist says a lot of, "Stay here," and, "Keep going," and, "This is a safe place." We talk about the magic boundaries that are a necessary condition for therapy magic. We talk about intergenerational trauma and intergenerational attachment patterns, Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs), trauma with a big-T and a little-t. We talk about Bowlby and Ainsworth, we read Becoming Attached (and one of us delivers a small but biting critique of Robert Karen, who disappointed one of us by not offering a simple how to fix it explanation for those of us in therapy and dealing with attachment stuff).
My explanation falls flat. In practice, there's raw emotion everywhere. More anger than I'm okay with (from me towards my therapist/transference father figure). More kindness and patience than I'm okay with (therapist to me). I try to sit with feelings, to allow them as visitors with their stories. I try to detach, and we sometimes have heady debates about attachment theory and the Buddhists' invitations to detach. I debate the semantics and grapple with the difference between acceptance and failure. There's occasional respite in good poetry and good music.
You know how you have conversations where something shifts, and you can understand something you didn't understand before, or you feel something you haven't felt before? Jonathan and I had a conversation like that maybe six months ago, when I was venturing down this attachment path in earnest again (last time this path got a little bumpy and my vessel was out of control and I wound up needing some crisis-level stabilization... don't worry, it's quite different this time!). So we were talking about what the psych wonks would call locus of control, with a sort of attachment/self-esteem twist.
I listened intently as Jonathan described his set point here. He believes on a fundamental, unshakable level that he is worthy of love and capable of both accepting and giving love. He believes he is capable, that most people are good, and that in the end everything will be okay.
He listened intently as I described by own set point. I believe on a fundamental, unshakable level that if people seem to love me, that I am guilty of having tricked or manipulated them into doing so. Thus, they will at some point discover or resent this elaborate ruse and they will no longer love me. I am reluctant to accept love and, as much as I wish it weren't true, I'm hesitant to give it. I question my capability, I'm not sure whether most people are good--though I'll surely admit that some are, and I'm pretty sure it's bullshit that everything's going to be okay.
We were both baffled. Our experiences and beliefs are so divergent.
A week or so later, we were in a rush to get somewhere with the kids. I had a playlist going on my phone, and I heard T. Swift singing about the music in her mind saying it's gonna be alright. Maybe this is super nerdy, but I immediately connected the attachment dots (daresay I... attached... the dots? sorry - dad joke). When the haters are hating, Tay-tay still has that music in her mind telling her it's gonna be alright. To get all up in the attachment jargon, we might say that she's demonstrating secure attachment in her apparent experience of having a secure base/safe haven she can depart from and return to as needed. She has hundreds, thousands, millions of tiny and huge experiences confirming that she is worthy of love and capable of giving and receiving it.
My background music is raucous and skillful, but the message isn't quite as clear. Sometimes I listen for the lyrics and I catch some self-deprecation. The minor notes overpower, the rhythm switches. It's like I got this music in my mind saying, "Of course there's a chance that it's gonna be alright, but don't forget about this time when you totally fucked up this relationship or that other time when no one was there oh and then there was that one time..."
Maybe we're re-composing it, one note at a time.
Therapy is hard.
Comments