Dissociation is a way people, to varying degrees, disconnect from their thoughts and feelings in order to avoid pain or traumatic memories. It represents a “lack of normal integration of thoughts, feelings, and experiences into the stream of consciousness and memory,” serving as an unconscious strategy the mind uses to protect from distress. It is a refuge of sorts into an altered state of mind that is often characterized by obsessive thoughts, fantasies, or even non-thinking states. It can be employed consciously or unconsciously as a defense mechanism and can range in intensity from mild daydreams to feeling separate from one’s body.

In our current digital age dissociating is easier than ever. You can simply turn on the television or, better yet, turn on your computer or mobile device and find yourself on a high-speed train through the internet highway, encountering all kinds of people, distracting yourself with all kinds of information, and stimulating yourself in all kinds of ways. Recent research indicates that digital environments and social media can contribute to dissociative experiences, particularly among adolescents and young adults. All the while, your body is there, in the chair or wherever it is, coping with the emotional unrest residing deep inside.

Although dissociation can be an effective short-term strategy for pain management, it often wreaks havoc on relationships.

The Impact of Dissociation on Relationships

Relationships flourish when the participants relate to each other, which requires mutual sharing of thoughts and feelings not just about each other but about their lives and the world around them, about their pasts, and about the future. Relating is the “food” of a relationship.

Dissociation can distress relationships because it undermines the ability to relate and thus starves the relationship over time. Recent research describes this as “dissociative collusion,” where split-off aspects of one or both partners are mutually dissociated in a complementary fashion that becomes destructive to the relationship. It is a bit of a catch-22: people often (unconsciously) choose partners who will bring up elements of their painful past in order to grow, heal, and develop. For those who dissociated during that original pain, however, employing the strategy now starves the relationship of the food of relating to each other.

Many people who frequently dissociate find that relationships can feel quite stifling. Inevitably, painful memories and feelings arise in the relationship and they (unconsciously) dissociate. At the same time, they see this other person there feeling hurt that they’ve disconnected or “left,” and feel trapped. They can’t leave, but they can’t stay, either. It can feel agonizing, lonely, and confusing to both partners when dissociation occurs.

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How Couples Counseling Can Help

A good couples counselor can be an invaluable resource and guide to finding a new way forward, both for the individual who dissociates and for the distressed couple. Evidence-based guidelines from organizations like the International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation support comprehensive treatment approaches that integrate multiple therapeutic modalities. Specifically, couples counseling can help by:

Identifying and naming the issue: It may be hard for a couple to recognize that dissociation is causing distress in the relationship because it often is an unconscious coping process and is easily confused for intentional emotional distancing. If there is something beyond dissociation going on—and there often is—a therapist should be able to help identify that, too.

Helping the couple understand what’s going on: Dissociation often leaves the other partner feeling abandoned, unheard, and unloved. A therapist can help both people recognize that this is not about a lack of interest or love but rather a deep survival mechanism. Research shows that dissociative defenses are particularly relevant for couples with histories of trauma. A dissociating person typically only wants to feel better, not make their partner feel bad.

Making space to slowly reduce dissociative symptoms: This is vital. A therapist can slow things down enough to help each person observe the dissociation and, over time, feel into the pain as a means of reducing symptoms. Individuals with chronic dissociation often struggle to feel safe, especially in relationships, making psychotherapy challenging but essential for healing.

Helping the couple find new skills: This is the creative aspect of therapy—helping the couple discover new ways to respond when painful feelings and memories arise. Individual or couples counseling can explore root causes of dissociation and develop coping strategies, offering stress-management techniques and enhanced communication skills.

If there is unresolved pain or trauma in the background of your relationship and you suspect dissociation may be hurting your ability to relate to your partner, contact a trained and compassionate couples counselor. You don’t have to suffer alone.

Please Note: This article is for informational purposes only and does not constitute medical or therapeutic advice. If you are experiencing severe dissociative symptoms or relationship distress, please consult with a qualified mental health professional for personalized treatment recommendations.

References:

1. Robinson, M. A., Purcell, J. B., Ward, L., Winternitz, S., Kaufman, M. L., Baranowski, K. A., & Lebois, L. A. M. (2024). Advancing research on and treatment of dissociative identity disorder with people with lived experience. American Journal of Psychotherapy, 77(3), 141-150. https://doi.org/10.1176/appi.psychotherapy.20230028
2. Černis, E., Chan, C., & Cooper, M. (2019). Identifying preliminary risk profiles for dissociation in 16‐ to 25‐year‐olds using machine learning. Early Intervention in Psychiatry, 25(2), 1-12. https://doi.org/10.1111/eip.13162
3. Costa, R. M. (2020). Dissociation (Defense Mechanism). In V. Zeigler-Hill & T. K. Shackelford (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Personality and Individual Differences. Springer. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-24612-3_1375
4. Bernstein, E. M., & Putnam, F. W. (1986). Development, reliability, and validity of a dissociation scale. Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease, 174, 727-735.
5. D’Andrea, W., & Pole, N. (2012). A naturalistic study of the relation of psychotherapy process to changes in symptoms, information processing, and physiological activity in complex trauma. Traumatology, 18(2), 26-40.
6. International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation. (2011). Guidelines for treating dissociative identity disorder in adults, third revision. Journal of Trauma & Dissociation, 12(2), 115-187.
7. Johnson, S. M., & Greenman, P. S. (2024). Emotionally focused couple therapy and attachment theory: Understanding emotion regulation in distressed couples. Journal of Couple & Relationship Therapy, 23(4), 295-312.
8. Loewenstein, R. J., Brand, B. L., & Schielke, H. J. (2022). Trauma-related dissociation and the dissociative disorders: Neglected symptoms with severe public health consequences. Frontiers in Psychiatry, 13, 1-24.
9. National Institute of Mental Health. (2024). Post-traumatic stress disorder. U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/post-traumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd

People are drawn to the helping professions for many different reasons. They may feel a calling to assist in relieving others’ suffering and to help them heal from their emotional wounds. They may have been traumatized themselves and wish to share the coping skills they’ve learned with others going through similar issues. Or they may feel caring for others brings meaning and a sense of purpose to their lives.

Whatever their reasons for becoming a therapist or other helping professional, they often experience vicarious trauma through the stories told by the people they work with. This secondary trauma, also referred to as compassion fatigue, can seriously hinder their work if they remain unaware of its negative impact and/or do not practice sufficient self-care strategies.

Becoming aware of the signs of compassion fatigue is the first step in addressing the issue. The following are some red flags:

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1. Preoccupation with the traumatic stories of the people they work with
2. Emotional symptoms of anger, grief, mood swings, anxiety, or depression
3. Physical issues related to stress, such as headaches, stomachaches, fatigue, or problems sleeping
4. Feeling burned out, powerless, hopeless, disillusioned, irritable, and/or angry toward “the system”
5. A tendency to self-isolate, be tardy, avoid certain people, or experience a lack of empathy and loss of motivation

Some of the professionals most likely to experience compassion fatigue include therapists, social workers, child welfare workers, emergency workers, police officers, firefighters, and ministers. However, anyone working with trauma survivors is susceptible to vicarious trauma. Helping professionals who have been subjected to trauma themselves also may be more at risk for developing compassion fatigue, especially if they have not worked through their issues.

Developing an adequate self-care strategy is key to preventing or overcoming vicarious trauma. Some of the techniques that can be used include:

• Maintain a good work-life balance. This involves taking time off to recharge and avoiding working long hours and/or carrying too heavy of a caseload or workload.
• Exercise to relieve stress. Developing a good workout routine is important to help increase feel-good endorphins and improve one’s outlook on life. Taking a yoga class, doing aerobic activity, or even just going for a walk can be invigorating and help change one’s perspective.
• Start a meditation practice. Initially, try sitting quietly for just 10 minutes a day, then gradually increase the time to 20 minutes. Meditation has many benefits and can assist one with feeling more peaceful and grounded.
• Develop a good social network. Having a good support system in place is important in order to be able to connect with others in a meaningful way.
• Use humor to unwind. Humor is good medicine when it comes to relieving stress and improving one’s mood. Watch a comedy, play with a pet, read a funny book—whatever moves you and helps you relax.
• Reconnect with Mother Nature. Being out in nature is therapeutic, whether you go for a hike in the woods, a walk on the beach, or just do a little gardening.
• Get involved with activities outside of work. Take your mind off of work by taking a class or engaging in a creative endeavor such as drawing, painting, or writing.
• Meet with a therapist to discuss concerns. Even individuals in the helping professions can benefit from meeting with a counselor, especially when they are experiencing compassion fatigue. A compassionate therapist can help put things in perspective and help identify additional coping skills.

Although all helping professionals are in danger of developing compassion fatigue, especially when working with individuals who have experienced traumatic events, having a self-care plan in place can help reduce the risks.

If you are already working on healing from a history of trauma, dissociation is likely a familiar concept. You are likely aware it is a system of coping that, in times of distress, offers protection from the full realization of trauma and its associated emotions, sensations, images, thoughts, and patterns of thinking.

The lack of realization and integration of these components creates the symptoms that bring people to therapy. The greater the extent and intensity of the traumas, the greater the complexity of the typical dissociative process and, of course, the treatment approach.

The “window of tolerance,” a concept introduced by Daniel J. Siegel, describes the equilibrium our systems need in order to heal from trauma. When we have unhealed traumas, our systems may not be fully present. They might not fully know or feel that the danger has passed and can become fixed in states of hypoarousal and hyperarousal or fluctuate between the two states.

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Hypo- or hyperarousal can result from the dissociative symptoms linked to the trauma, which may be positive (adding to the experience) or negative (taking away from the experience). Positive dissociative symptoms might include intrusive images, emotions, sensations, and thoughts. Negative dissociative symptoms may include amnesia, derealization, and depersonalization.

When we are stuck in these upper and lower zones of hyper- or hypoarousal, the full integration and healing of trauma cannot occur. But in the middle, within the window of tolerance, healing and integration can occur.

The shift outside the window of tolerance into hypo- or hyperarousal is the dissociative process, and it may be subtle or extreme. In those moments we experience what I call the “quantum leap effect,” where aspects of our former self, still stuck in the original trauma, do not have access to what the present self knows. That keeps us stuck in the reliving of the traumatic material, even though a part of us—an inaccessible part, so long as we are dissociating—knows it is in the past.

Anchoring Yourself in the Present

After noticing a dissociative shift into hypo- or hyperarousal, it may be helpful to utilize a skill that anchors you mindfully to the present. The anchor is not just about noticing you are “in the now.” It is imperative you notice and acknowledge the present is different from whatever you think you are stuck in. “I know I may be seeing old stuff,” you might tell yourself, “but that old stuff can’t be happening because I am in this room now, and these are the ways it looks different.”

The shift outside the window of tolerance into hypo- or hyperarousal is the dissociative process, and it may be subtle or extreme.

A more specific example might look like this: “The wall is brown, there is carpet, and I am 22 years old. I can’t be in that old circumstance. I am in the same room as this brown carpet. It must be over, because I am in a different room and I am older. I wasn’t wearing these shoes. In fact, I couldn’t fit in these shoes if I was in that time.”

If you are trying to heal from trauma, think of this anchoring skill as a way to get aspects of your former self more current and stay within your window of tolerance. To really take root, it must be practiced over and over. But it is an essential coping skill for any trauma survivor, even before processing any traumatic material in therapy.

Reference:

Siegel, D. (1999). The Developing Mind. New York: Guilford.

All of us become distracted sometimes. So many things compete so effectively for our attention. Multitasking is one response to this. But studies find that while multitasking carries an emotional reward—we feel more productive—it’s actually linked to lower levels of accomplishment and productivity. We’re going to look at a practice called bracketing as a more effective response to distraction.

Bracketing is a simple, three-step process. The first step is to acknowledge what’s distracting you. The second is to deliberately set it aside for the moment. And the third is to return to it later in order to address it.

Bob (not his real name) works as a computer programmer. His department is under a lot of pressure. Unfortunately for Bob, his manager makes use of everyone’s anxiety to keep them working hard. People get called on the carpet and sometimes let go. As a result, a lot of Bob’s colleagues are withdrawn and irritable, and work is a lot less safe than it used to be. Bob is frequently engaged in low-level surveillance. It’s a normal response to dangerous surroundings—think of being in the forest at night, where you’re alert to any noise in case it’s a predator. But as a result, Bob is distracted from the very work he’s pressured to complete. Simple problems are hard to solve. He wonders if he’s lost his edge, if he’s even in the right field.

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To make things even rougher, Bob’s 15-year-old daughter, Madison, has started getting into trouble at school and he’s not sure why. She seems like a happy, well-adjusted kid, but maybe he’s missing something? Is it just a phase they all go through or is it a warning sign? Should he schedule a meeting with the school principal, or should he take her to see a therapist?

Bob and Vicky, his wife, have started having arguments about how to respond to Madison, as well as other issues. He’s begun wondering if his marriage is in trouble.

Often when Bob is writing programming code for one of his assignments his thoughts begin revolving around his daughter, especially if he’s happened to hear a story on the news about high school students. He can find himself having a brief fantasy conversation with Vicky about what the family needs, going over their last disagreement. Or he wonders if he’s in the right line of work, if it’s too late to start something different.

These lapses aren’t long, not usually more than two or three minutes. But they’re enough to distract him from what he’s doing. When he notices what’s happening, he makes a partial effort to suppress his thoughts. “I’ve got to focus,” he tells himself sternly. And then he begins thinking about how much pressure he’s under to get this current project to QA for testing, and how he can’t afford to have them send it back to him to fix something.

Bob doesn’t meet the criteria for attention-deficit hyperactivity, according to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. For one thing, he’s able to reflect on his own behaviors. For another, his symptoms of distraction didn’t start before he was 12, and they are clearly related to his current situations. Still, it would be helpful if Bob had some way of clearing his thoughts.

This is where bracketing comes in.

As Bob notices he’s become distracted, he briefly acknowledges what’s distracting him. Worry about Madison. The relationship with Vicky. Pressure at work.

Acknowledging—allowing yourself to notice something—is a key component of mindfulness practice. Buddhist nun and mindfulness meditation teacher Pema Chödrön describes this coming back to the present as recognizing what’s true in the moment without judging it.

Having acknowledged these issues, Bob sets them to one side. Sounds easy, doesn’t it? But how do you actually practice it?

When we set something aside, the implication is “for the time being.” We plan to come back to it at some point. My favorite show is about to come on, so I’ll finish doing the dishes after I watch it. It’s starting to rain; I’ll finish the yardwork tomorrow.

How Bracketing Differs from Procrastination

The difference between setting something aside and procrastination is in commitment to the follow-through. I intend to get back to the dishes when my show is over, and when the closing credits have finished I go back out to the kitchen. When the rain stops, next day I resume mowing the lawn.

This temporary setting aside is also different from thought suppression, or “trying not to think about it.” Some studies show that thought suppression actually reinforces the material we’re trying to suppress, which reminds us of the old saying, “Throw the devil out the door and he comes in the window.” Remember that the first step of this practice is to let yourself become fully aware of what’s claiming some of your attention.

This is the heart of this practice. This is what makes bracketing increasingly effective—when we come back to what we set aside. That we make a commitment to completing our own personal work.

Therefore, we schedule a specific time when we can give our attention to what’s distracting us. Bob tells himself, “I’ll concentrate on Madison when I get home from work.” He also decides to think about the situation at work when he takes his break. And he and Vicky can talk over dinner tonight—not just about Madison, but about their own relationship.

At this point, Bob hasn’t solved his problems, but he has scheduled specific times to engage with them.

The third step is to keep these appointments.

On his afternoon break, he strikes up a conversation with a man in the next cubicle. The two of them decide to take a walk and stretch their legs. As they walk, they talk about how tense it’s getting in the office. When Bob gets home, he sits down with Vicky and they decide to schedule a meeting with Madison’s principal before considering counseling. Later that evening, when Madison gets home, Bob makes a point of checking in with her. Nothing too intense—she’s not in the mood to talk. But he establishes that he will sometimes initiate contact for no reason other than contact.

This is the heart of this practice. This is what makes bracketing increasingly effective—when we come back to what we set aside. That we make a commitment to completing our own personal work. Consider that these issues wouldn’t come up as distractions if they weren’t important in the first place.

Bracketing Improves with Repetition

As with any practice, this one becomes more effective the more we repeat it. Put another way, we believe ourselves more as we keep our word to ourselves.

A recent article in the Harvard Business Review notes that the act of keeping promises to ourselves helps us be more fully realized versions of who we are. Carl Jung uses similar language in his concept of self—the organizing principle of both the conscious and unconscious areas of the psyche, or the “blueprint” of identity.

In this sense, keeping promises to ourselves is a way of communicating with the unconscious. The communication is, “You, the unconscious, are worthy of respect and I, the conscious ego, am worthy of respect.” The thought “I will” is increasingly experienced as believable, and the pressure from the unconscious that shows up as a distraction decreases.

Bob gets through the week and now it’s Sunday afternoon. He and Vicky are visiting Vicky’s sister. Everyone’s in the backyard relaxing while chicken sizzles on the barbecue. Sounds like a nice time, doesn’t it?

But Bob’s having trouble enjoying it because he’s thinking about work tomorrow. The thoughts are intrusive and keep pulling him into a fantasy version of tomorrow morning and away from the present moment, even though this moment of ease and refreshment is just what he needs. But it’s almost as if he can feel it all trickling between his fingers and disappearing, leaving nothing but the apparent reality of work.

So he brackets the intrusive thoughts. First he acknowledges to himself what’s distracting him. This time he doesn’t really need to schedule it for later, because tomorrow morning he’ll be on the road to the office by 6:45. But he makes use of the formality anyway. Although there’s nothing he needs to do to prepare for work, he mentally tells the office he’ll see it at 8 a.m., knowing he’ll keep that appointment. And then he returns to attending to the conversation, the sunlight, and the smell of chicken on the grill, which is making him hungry.

Sometimes Bob wakes up in the middle of the night. His thoughts turn to different topics and become more active, so it can be hard to get back to sleep. Rather than trying to distract himself, he practices bracketing. Acknowledging whatever is present in his thoughts, whether it’s a meeting he’s not looking forward to or a medical procedure he’s been putting off, he determines when he will return to it in order to give it his full attention. And in the morning, or later in the week, or Saturday, he follows through. Again, it’s this follow-through that strengthens the practice and increases its effectiveness.

We live in a culture that bombards us with claims. Sometimes the best way to assess such claims is by experiment. Try the three steps of bracketing—acknowledgement, setting aside, and then returning to the issue—as a tool against distraction in your own life.

References:

1. American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (5th Ed.). Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Publishing.
2. Chödrön, P. (2012). Living Beautifully with Uncertainty and Change. Boston and London: Shambhalla.
3. Gielan, M. (2010). Why Keeping Your Promise is Good for YOU. Psychology Today. Retrieved from https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/lights-camera-happiness/201005/why-keeping-your-promise-is-good-you
4. Grabmeier, J. (2012). Multitasking May Hurt Your Performance, but It Makes You Feel Better. Ohio State University. Retrieved from http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/multitask.htm
5. Jung, C. (1966). “Psychology of the Transference,” Collected Works, 16. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press.
6. Kibler, M. (2015). Treat Promises to Yourself as Seriously as Promises to Others. Harvard Business Review. Retrieved from https://hbr.org/2015/09/treat-promises-to-yourself-as-seriously-as-promises-to-others
7. Wenzlaff, R.M., & Wegner, D.M. (2000). Thought Suppression. National Center for Biotechnology Information. Retrieved from http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov

Psychological trauma, defined as the experience of an event in which a person feels their life is threatened or in danger, may be accompanied by a sense of helplessness, horror, or numbing as the internal alarm system becomes activated.

We react to trauma in a number of ways, and certain factors put us at risk for more severe psychological difficulties. Fortunately, there are qualities we can build on to help us manage our reactions to traumatic events.

There are four main types of reactions we may experience following a trauma: emotional, cognitive, physical, and interpersonal.

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1. Emotional reactions include shock, fear, grief, anger, guilt, shame, helplessness, numbness, sadness, confusion, denial, abandonment, anxiety, and depression.
2. Cognitive reactions might include problems with concentration, indecisiveness, difficulty making decisions, and intrusive or unwanted memories. You may notice thoughts such as, “How could someone do this?” or, “It felt like time stood still.”
3. Physical reactions consist of bodily tension, feeling fatigued, insomnia, startling easily, racing heartbeat, nausea, change in appetite, chills, digestive problems, or profuse sweating.
4. Interpersonal reactions involve feeling a sense of distrust, experiencing a loss of intimacy, increased conflict with others, isolation from others, or problems at work or school.

Other reactions to trauma are less common and more severe, and may require professional intervention. These may include:

• Emotional reactions that include intrusive or unwanted reexperiencing of the event after it has happened such as nightmares, flashbacks, and terrifying memories
• Extreme emotional numbing that leads to a sense of emptiness
• Potentially harmful attempts to avoid intrusive experiences through alcohol or substance use, lying, self-injury, or suicide attempts
• Physical reactions that involve hyperarousal, panic, rage, extreme irritability, agitation, restlessness, or violence
• Ongoing anxiety, uncontrollable worry, helplessness, or obsessive or compulsive behavior
• Dissociation (or a sense of being separate from one’s body), having fragmented thoughts, lack of awareness of surroundings, or involuntarily spacing out

Not everyone will develop a mental health condition or posttraumatic stress (PTSD) following a traumatic event. There are certain risk factors that increase the chances of experiencing more severe reactions to trauma, including severe exposure to a disaster, low socioeconomic status, having a preexisting mental health condition, being part of an ethnic minority, lacking social support, and lacking social resources.

Although there are factors that increase the risk of severe trauma reactions, there are also at least seven personality characteristics, described below, that can help a person successfully cope with or manage trauma.

Locus of Control

Locus of control is the extent to which we believe or expect we can control the outcomes of events that affect us. Our locus of control may be internal or external. If we have an external locus of control, we believe our behavior is guided by fate, luck, or other external forces. If we have an internal locus of control, we believe our behavior is guided by our own decisions and efforts, and that outcomes are related to our actions.

Crises challenge our beliefs and expectations about the level of control we have in the situation. Attempting to assert some degree of control following a crisis can aid in more effective coping and can help create a greater sense of meaning and consistency. Some researchers have observed that an external locus of control is related to learned helplessness, a condition in which a person perceives no sense of control, expects that there can be no escape, and believes any attempt to escape will result in failure.

While an internal locus of control can have positive effects in moderation, those who attempt to unrealistically control events may need assistance adjusting their expectations about outcomes. For instance, someone with an unrealistic belief that they could have prevented a crisis on their own by doing A, B, or C may need help focusing on what they can realistically control.

Self-Efficacy

Self-efficacy is our belief about how capable we are to handle situations. If we have high self-efficacy, we exert effort to overcome challenges. If our self-efficacy is low, we avoid actions we think will exceed what we’re capable of. Self-efficacy builds on itself as we add to our successes. It is thought that people who expect to successfully cope with their emotions and moods are more likely to be proactive in their healing and to seek out something positive in threatening situations.

Optimism

Optimism is holding hope and expecting that good things will happen. Optimism is focused on a desired outcome and not on who is in control or how capable one is in reaching the outcome. Optimists emphasize the positive during difficult situations and have been found by some researchers to be less anxious, hostile, depressed, and self-conscious than those with pessimistic attitudes.

Hardiness

Hardiness as a personality characteristic describes someone who is curious, actively involved, believes they can influence outcomes, expects that life will present changes, and tends to believe that challenges are opportunities for development. People with hardiness have a willingness to learn something of value, and merge those lessons into their lives. Hardiness is also associated with active coping and decreased emotional distress.

Resilience

People with resilience are those who are at risk for failure early on in life but who nonetheless become successful. Resilient people can take responsibility for their own part in a situation and let go of responsibility for the things they cannot change. Some qualities of resilient individuals include active problem solving, perceiving difficult experiences constructively, gaining positive attention from others, and an ability to continue finding meaning in their experience.

Sense of Coherence

People with a strong sense of coherence understand that stress is an inevitable part of life and recognize that dealing with it successfully can be beneficial. Having a sense of coherence means we seek to comprehend, manage, and find meaning in situations. When we attempt to comprehend the crisis situation, we try to make sense of what happened and explain how it occurred. To manage the situation, it can be helpful to utilize available resources. Meaningfulness indicates the situation is worthy of our time and investment. Having high meaningfulness motivates us to search for ways to comprehend the situation and seek out resources to aid in managing the incident.

Creativity

The ability to creatively cope is related to one’s ability to let go of the usual ways of solving problems. People who can produce creative solutions are better able to cope with traumatic events in which there are limited opportunities to exert control. Creativity involves flexibility in dealing with one’s environment.

How we react to a traumatic event can be greatly influenced by a number of factors. There are several common ways we react to trauma, and some reactions are more severe than others. Numerous personality traits were identified here that can be learned or cultivated to deal more successfully with trauma and obtain what is increasingly being recognized as posttraumatic growth.

References:

1. Tedeschi, R.G., & Calhoun, L. G. (1995). Trauma & Transformation: Growing in the Aftermath of Suffering. Thousand Oaks, California: SAGE Publications, Inc.
2. U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs National Center for PTSD. (2010). Mental Health Reactions After Disaster. Retrieved from http://www.ptsd.va.gov/professional/pages/handouts-pdf/Reactions.pdf

As children we have boundless curiosity, energy, and a feeling of connectedness with all that is. Our natural instinct is often to let ourselves be molded by the land and the sky, for we are animals imbued with spirit first and humans with thinking minds second. Spared the influence of our civilization’s dualistic thinking, we likely would have maintained the connection between body, mind, and spirit, as well as our heart-connection with the universe. How can we rediscover this kind of connectivity in this time of high-speed, high-tech upheaval? It’s a journey that each person must take for themselves.

Ever felt energized by an inspiring movie, transformed by a great symphony, or held spellbound by a life-affirming book? Did you walk away with a deep sense of satisfaction, only to say to a friend, “That made everything in life seem to make sense. It’s too bad life isn’t really like that!” But perhaps it’s possible life can be more like that, simply with a greater sense of clarity. If life seems a puzzle, you may simply be missing some of the pieces!

Perhaps you have glimpsed the potential for connectivity that surrounds us all the time. The quest for this holism can take a lifetime, but it is worth the trip. And if you are seeking recovery—whether from trauma, incest, other sexual abuse, cultural oppression, addiction, or something else—you are in fact seeking to rediscover the holistic state. They are one and the same.

My work is based on these principles: we have all suffered emotional or physical trauma to our natural emergent energies at some stage in development; we all have moments of dissociation and separation from ourselves; and we are all consciously or unconsciously seeking a more holistic connection with the universe. I truly believe we can help each other succeed, just by speaking our truth as we discover it. This journey toward complete recovery offers the opportunity to connect with not only other sentient beings, but with the planet as a whole. Thus, those on this path may find themselves in a position to trigger global transformation. [fat_widget_right]

Connecting with Source Energy

In recent years I have gone beyond fostering greater connectivity with the human race and the earth as a whole, as wonderful and as healing as that is. I have found a kind of broadband connectivity of the spirit, which can address any issue, to link up to what I have gradually come to know as “The Source.”

I use “The Source” to refer to a place where all healing and creative ideas and energies ultimately come from. It is not a physical place but a place in consciousness, one where we can tap into the essence of the life force itself. This life force, also called source energy, flows through and connects all things. Everything that exists is a manifestation of this life energy. By becoming more attuned to this gold mine of consciousness and working with it, we can make our lives miraculous beyond anything we can imagine.

There are many valuable pathways for discovering and working with source energy: meditation, trauma resolution, and creative pursuits are a few of these. I do what is called focalizing. Both a healing modality and a creative process, focalizing can foster the continuous flow of energy through us and help this energy express itself with clarity.

We can call this source energy a spirit, God, a higher power, or the universe, but it is definitely an enlivening current we can feel in our bones. Some may experience it as a vibration, some as stillness, others as a presence. Still others may simply feel totally awake and connected. However you describe it, the source energy is the universal force found in all living beings. Filled with universal intelligence, it explains how plants know how to align themselves towards the sun. By the same token, it is there inside us and can help us make our decisions, especially when we listen to what our bodies are telling us.

Three things may block us from experiencing the source energy:

1. Distracting thoughts (often based on past conditioning)
2. Unresolved trauma
3. Sexual barriers and frustrations

Conditioned thinking makes it difficult for us to shift to new ways of perceiving and healing our lives, which can limit us to past experiences and exposures. It regurgitates old data and story lines based on our personal history or what we have been told. Both a healing modality and a creative process, focalizing can foster the continuous flow of energy through us and help this energy express itself with clarity. The conditioned mind does not tolerate intricacy well and may experience difficulty with love, joy, and other textured nuances of life. Without a new set of tools and a fresh way of seeing, the mind can paralyze us and block our best path forward. On the other hand, the heart’s intelligence thrives on intricacy and nuance, on connectivity to deep ancestral roots. It speaks to us through felt sensations of our bodies and sensory perceptions that can guide the next steps in our personal evolution. Focalizing may be so effective because in the process the mind is respectfully set aside while the heart guides us through a natural and fulfilling process of connectivity.

As we host source energy we may become conscious of the role the body plays in shaping the mind and our moment-to-moment experience. It can allow a subtle shift from feeling with the senses to feeling with awareness. When we direct our minds to be aware, we may be able to feel subtle options: a wider range of choices than what we can access via mere thinking alone.

Hosting this energy can be as simple as taking a deep breath. We can also practice what’s called a “body drop.” In a body drop, awareness focuses on deeply relaxing the body while staying connected to it. We might think of this as “striving only to be.” When we give ourselves a quiet pause, we can gain flexibility, in the shift between the outwardly focused mind and the subtler inner mind that uses felt awareness. When this skill is developed, we may be better able to use both levels of awareness fluidly and develop a fresh sense of inner knowing.

This practice can unify the imaginary separation of body, mind, and nature and enliven source energy to offer guidance. In this embodied state our experience of time collapses, allowing us to connect with imagery and perceptions that are often deeply informative. This focalizing is a way of rediscovering the lost connectivity we can glimpse in the eyes of wild animals and children all over the world.

Contentment and happiness do not come from waving a magic wand or snapping our fingers. They are choices that include a deep level of acceptance for things being exactly as they are and respect for present realities, as reality is always changing. Don’t disconnect with reality. Accept things as they are and then allow source energy to transform them.

It is important to keep sustaining, hosting, and relying on the established connection to source energy in order to keep this loving relationship with spirit vibrant and alive. We can often do this with gratitude. If we ever reach the point where we feel we are lacking gratitude for being alive, we simply need to un-separate ourselves from the source energy. I believe we can’t help but feel happy, playful, and grateful when connected with the wellspring of spiritual creativity. Releasing our preconditioned concepts of who we are can help us become one with the source energy. Through this, we can become the change we wish to see in the world, and more.

Much of life is shaped by the choices we make. We choose where we want to work and where we will live. We choose friends and partners. Most of us also choose who we marry (if we choose to marry). When we commit to someone, typically we are agreeing not only to commit to them, but to what—and who—they bring with them. In many cases, family members are part of what a partner brings to a committed, long-term relationship. And although we can choose our partner, we cannot choose their family.

Building a relationship with a long-term partner’s family can be difficult for all involved. Everyone involved is adjusting to a major life transition: parents are trying to adjust to a new relationship dynamic with their child and build a relationship with their child’s partner. The couple is establishing and strengthening their own relationship and making their own life choices. If these choices conflict with what the parents envisioned for their child, the parents may perceive this as rejection, which can put strain on the relationship. Parents who miss their child and want to have more of a relationship may seem pushy or over-involved. Any number of other reasons may serve to complicate this particular relationship.

In my experience as a therapist, strained relationships with a partner’s family members, especially the relationship between a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, are quite common. If you find building a relationship with your partner’s parents to be challenging, or if you just don’t like your partner’s parents, the following tips and considerations may be helpful:

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• Discuss the level of involvement you would like to have with your partner’s family. Do you envision seeing them every week for Sunday dinner? Do you envision seeing them for three hours on a major holiday once per year? If you choose to have children, what type of involvement should they have with them? If you and your partner disagree, you can talk through the reasons and try to reach a compromise that leaves you both satisfied.
• Work on building a positive relationship and focusing on the good. It can be hard to relate to someone if you don’t know them well. Try to have more shared experiences. Plan an activity, such as a picnic or mini-golf. Try seeking advice on small things, like which tablecloth is best or what dishes you could serve at a family meal. Maybe one parent is financially savvy and can help you figure out your mortgage application. Maybe the other parent is excellent at fixing things around the house. Seek out and enjoy each person’s strengths.
• This is a long-term relationship, so it is likely worth investing in. In most areas of life, it’s fairly easy to minimize contact with people we don’t like. However, in a marriage or other committed partnership, it may be worth trying to reach common ground. Discover the good aspects about your partner’s parents and learn what you can like about them.
• Hear their feelings behind the comments. When your partner’s mother asks, “Why don’t you move closer?” or “Why did you move so far away?” try to hear the feelings rather than the criticisms. Your partner’s parents are probably not trying to control you or tell you what to do. They may simply be trying to tell you how they feel about something, such as “I miss you and wish we could spend more time together.”
• Learn their love language as a way to communicate with them better. Gary Chapman’s The Five Love Languages as a tool for your in-laws. What are their love languages? Do they really appreciate gifts? Would they better appreciate an offer to help them with house and yard work once in a while? Giving to them, in a way they will appreciate most, can help them feel more positively toward you and may lead to a greater sense of connection. [amazon_affiliate]
• Not all events have to include all the members of the family. If it remains difficult—for whatever reason—for you to enjoy or even handle seeing certain members of the family, try instead to create (or allow) opportunities for them to see your partner or their grandchildren. Grandparents might be thrilled to spend time with your kids for a few hours or even a few days. You don’t have to attend every single get-together.
• Don’t force your partner or children to cut off their relationships. You may dislike your partner’s parents. You may have drastically different approaches to parenting. But allowing your children to spend time with their grandparents may really benefit them (and their grandparents). Preventing your children from building this relationship can be a huge loss (unless you have reason to believe they are in danger). And if your partner wishes to spend more time with their parents (with or without you) and you prevent them from doing so, conflict and resentment may be the result.
• Set boundaries. Doing this early on in your relationship is likely to make the adjustment easier for everyone involved. Assuring your partner’s parents they are an important part of the family may help them agree more easily to the boundaries you set without feeling as if you have cut them off. If they tend to overstay their welcome, try being specific: “Are you available from 1 to 3 on Sunday?” or, “Would you like to come for a visit for two nights next weekend?” If they express the desire to stay longer than you would like, simply say something like, “It would be better for us to just do two days this time.”
• Realize that your partner’s long-standing familial relationships and communication dynamics precede your relationship and are not likely to change. You may feel irritated by your partner’s interactions. Suddenly the confident and self-assured person you know cannot stand up to their mother! This may be infuriating, but try your best not to harp on it or try to change them. Your partner’s relationship and patterns of interaction with their parents (and siblings) are unlikely to change much. (However, if some aspect of this interaction or any family issue appears to be harmful or distressing to your partner, you may wish to discuss this, perhaps with a counselor.)
• Communicate clearly. If you primarily communicate with your partner’s family through your partner but find things often become muddled, try speaking directly to them instead. This not only shows them respect but can help prevent miscommunication and misunderstandings—and will keep your partner from being caught in the middle.

Dealing with your partner’s parents may be one of the more challenging parts of your relationship, but it may be worth the effort to make your interactions with them as pleasant as possible, if for no other reason than to respect your partner’s bond with them.

Time and again, people share with me the difficulties they have in asking for help. When I hear this, I’m grateful they found their way to my office, because their first phone call to me was an example of having done so.

We all have moments in our lives when we require the assistance of others. We don’t ever know all there is to know or have the skills to do everything proficiently or successfully. We certainly don’t expect that of others, either. So it makes sense we would have occasion to ask someone for help at some point.

The biggest reason many seem to have for staying stuck rather than reaching out is fear. People fear they will be rejected or told “no,” fear being seen as “less than” or weak, or fear being “found out.”

Being told “no” does not have to be awful. We do not have to weave a story and personalize the rejection (make it about us). It may be that the person we chose to ask didn’t have the appropriate resources to help us at that time. It’s best to accept the “no” as the answer to our request, not a negation of ourselves. A “no” tells us not to waste any more time and energy asking this particular person, and guides us closer to someone who will say “yes.”

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Some equate being vulnerable with being weak, but asking for help takes self-awareness and courage. It’s important to know where our strengths lie and where they don’t. Sometimes the most efficient way to proceed is to focus our efforts where they have the most impact, and implore others to fill in the gaps according to their skill sets, leading to teamwork and collaboration. To be vulnerable is to provide the opportunity to connect and pool resources, thereby resulting in further strength.

The fear of being “found out” is akin to the fear of being exposed as a fraud (impostor syndrome). It can coincide with all-or-nothing thinking or perfectionism—believing that if we don’t know it all, we know next to nothing. In most roles in which we function, whether it be parent, employee, or partner, we are not expected to know it all. There are always opportunities for us to learn and grow. It doesn’t serve us to pretend we have every answer. However, it benefits us and others to know where to go for assistance when we need it, and then to avail ourselves of those resources.

What can you gain by asking for help?

• You gain the ability to move forward. Rather than staying “stuck,” you know how to proceed. Can you remember a time you hesitated in reaching out? Chances are you felt a certain degree of stress associated with this. You weren’t being as productive as you wanted to be. You may have felt foolish in not being sure of your next step. Not believing you could ask for help might have fueled symptoms of anxiety. That is, until you asked for help and felt the relief of finding out what you needed to know.
• You gain the opportunity to collaborate. If you’ve been tasked with something to do independently, it’s best to try to do it on your own. But if you’re stymied, seeking advice or assistance gives someone the opportunity to share with you. While not everyone is able to say “yes,” people are often honored by the request. It means you admired their expertise or abilities enough to inquire.
• You gain the opportunity to learn. Pay attention to who is willing to help and what they are willing to do for you. Really listen to strategies being communicated to you, and take notes so you don’t have to ask the same questions twice.

It’s also worthwhile to think about whether you’re willing to help others when asked. If you tend to say “yes” and are maybe even happy to be asked, then perhaps you can better see the value in asking for support from someone else.

Asking for help doesn’t devalue you in any way. It can enable you to advance, connect you meaningfully with others, bolster your productivity and ability to do things with greater ease, and better prepare you for your next challenge.

I work with a number of anguished parents who are surprised, hurt, and bewildered by changes in the way their adult children behave toward them. They describe relationships filled with coolness and irritation from their adult child and talk about being rebuffed when emails, texts, and phone calls go unanswered and responses to requests for dinner or birthday celebrations are ignored or refused. These parents feel pushed away and controlled by their children and clueless to understand this unexpected behavior. They come into therapy filled with a wide range of feelings, including rejection, anger, hurt, anxiety, depression, and helplessness.

Melanie came to see me because of difficulties with her oldest child, Barbara, 33, who is five years married with two young children.

“She was my first, and it was love at first sight,” Melanie said of Barbara. “We were so close. I don’t understand the change. It seems sudden, but I suppose it started after college when she became a little distant and there was some tension. Now I can’t say ‘boo’ to her without her becoming annoyed or angry. I’m always walking on tiptoe and never know when she’s going to have an outburst. She’ll yell and say awful things like I don’t understand her or I’m self-absorbed or the queen of criticism. I can’t imagine why she feels this way. I go from shock to crying to feeling outraged. I don’t know what she wants from me. Actually, it feels like she doesn’t want anything from me. It’s getting more and more difficult to get to see her or even get her to send me a picture of the grandkids or answer a text. When she ignored my birthday last month, that was the worst.”

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Melanie’s experience with Barbara is illustrative of what the distressed parents I work with describe: through adolescence they had close, loving relationships which became conflicted only after their children left home. The separation-individuation process which is expected to occur in adolescence didn’t emerge at the developmentally appropriate time. Without the benefit of individuation in adolescence, these children missed the experience of learning to navigate the power struggles and clashes with parents that are crucial for the formation of a sense of identity with feelings of autonomy and self-confidence. This experience is necessary to set the stage for feeling comfortably attached to the parent without fear of being controlled or influenced.

The Development of Saying Yes to Oneself

I have always been intrigued with the idea that 2-year-olds have to learn to say “no” before they can say “yes.” The “no” of the 2-year-old is a crucial component of the development of self. “No” is directed to the parent who engages with the child in a squabble. When there are wins for the child, their “no” is accepted, making it possible for the child to begin feeling authorship of their “yes.” “Yes” is a nod to the self, to one’s desires, needs, and drive toward autonomy.

During adolescence, this process continues. Now the parent has to shift from the position of benign authority they held with their younger child. They must find a balance between providing rules within a secure and safe framework and simultaneously allow room for the emergence of the adolescent’s “noes.” This means the child is given space to question and change the rules (although the parent will not always agree) as they move toward “yes,” i.e., developing their identity as autonomous adults.

The Adult Child’s Delayed Individuation Process

For some children, the struggle to individuate either begins or intensifies after adolescence, often during their late 20s or 30s. When this occurs, a strong need to pull away and extract oneself from the parental orbit feels necessary.

For parents who have not experienced the passionate conflicts of adolescence and may be known to happily remark “I got off easy,” their adult child’s fierce push to be separate can be heart-wrenching. When there is a delay or a reemergence of this struggle for autonomy, the parent is frequently taken by surprise and is unprepared for what may now become an intense process of individuation in which the adult child, no longer feeling required to adhere to the old rules, comes out fighting to claim a selfhood that will feel unfettered by parental influence. It can seem very sudden when a child starts to pull away, express anger, and assert themselves against the parent. Although the parent may be unaware of treating the child differently, what might have felt to both parent and child like interest or involvement in the past can now be experienced by the child as controlling or critical.

As I got to know Melanie and learned about the development of her relationship with Barbara, it became clear that Barbara was late in separating from her parents. Through late adolescence, Barbara never went through a stage where she pushed against her parents. When she went away to college, she remained close with frequent calls and emails. Between her junior and senior years, however, she and her parents fought over her decision to remain at college for the summer to take an internship. This was the first big disagreement with Barbara where Barbara’s wishes won out. Melanie wondered:

As I got to know Melanie and learned about the development of her relationship with Barbara, it became clear that Barbara was late in separating from her parents.

“I’m not sure about this, but I think things changed after that. She never lived at home after graduation. She stopped asking for advice, and I was so surprised when she decided to move to a neighboring state for grad school. Maybe I shouldn’t have said I thought she should stay local for school, save her money, and live at home. She had made up her mind, and I remember she got angry and said I shouldn’t tell her what to do with her life. I was shocked. I was only trying to help. Since then, she bristles or gets angry at any suggestion I make.”

Melanie was feeling profoundly rejected by Barbara. She felt helpless to know how to relate to her and how to change the increasing negativity she felt from her daughter. She felt controlled and without any clear sense of why this was happening:

“I can’t ask questions without her getting enraged,” Melanie said. “I asked if she took my granddaughter to the doctor when she had a fever and she told me to stop butting in! I’ve asked her such innocuous questions, like ‘Are you planning a vacation?’ Or, ‘Are you thinking about sending the kids to daycare?’ Every time I ask a question, she accuses me of criticizing her. I don’t get it. I just want to be a part of her life. She doesn’t want to let me in. Worse, sometimes I think she hates me.”

It seemed to me Barbara’s individuation process had been delayed. I assumed that since there was little conflict with her parents during adolescence, Barbara’s “noes” and “yeses” were probably mostly shared by her parents. Thus, in adolescence, Barbara would have felt no need to differentiate her wishes and needs from those of her parents. Now, as an adult, she had no developed sense of self with feelings of autonomy. So she still needed to individuate and take ownership of the “yeses” and “noes” in her life. This would give her a sense of agency and self-confidence, enabling her to feel less threatened by her mother’s opinions, wishes, and needs. Differences between them would simply be differences, not cause for concern about losing herself to her mother’s influence. She would not have to be worried about being controlled because she would feel in charge of herself.

Melanie began to understand that Barbara equated connection with influence. She recognized that Barbara’s experience of being constantly criticized became the rationale for pushing Melanie away:

“I think I get it. If I ask a question, like did she take my granddaughter to the doctor, maybe she hears it as my opinion: ‘You should take her to the doctor.’ Or maybe, she hears it as ‘I don’t trust you to know what to do’ so then she feels criticized by me. I see she is fighting being influenced by me. It’s like if she lets me in, she loses herself. If she lets herself feel close to me, it threatens her sense of self. I don’t want to be in her life to control or influence her, I just want to love her and feel loved. How is that ever going to happen?”

Facilitating Individuation for the Adult Child

Melanie’s feelings of helplessness were palpable. She was developing an intellectual understanding of what was going on with Barbara, but it is quite another thing to find a way to change the dynamic between them so their bond could be restored. I made the following suggestions to Melanie:

• Be mindful of the content of your communications. Questions can be interpreted as criticism, shoulds, or judgments.
• Find an opportunity to talk to Barbara without being defensive, and tell her you want to hear how you can be a better parent.
• Let her know you respect and admire who she is and what she does in specific ways, e.g., “I love that you’re always reading to the kids,” “It’s great that you’re learning to play golf,” “Can I have your recipe for meatballs?” or “Your home looks so lovely.” These communications contain the idea (no guarantee that it will be interpreted that way) that you have positive and admiring feelings toward your child.
• Let Barbara control the amount of contact. She is engaged with you in a necessary separation-individuation process that was not resolved in earlier years. When it becomes resolved, she will have a more positive sense of self. This will enable her to develop a strong and loving attachment with you. Once Barbara is secure in the positive feelings of who she is, there will no longer be a reason to fear being unduly controlled or influenced.

Note: To protect privacy, names in the preceding article have been changed and the dialogues described are a composite.

“It’s like a mother: when the baby is crying,
she picks up the baby and she holds the baby tenderly in her arms.
Your pain, your anxiety is your baby.
You have to take care of it.
You have to go back to yourself,
to recognize the suffering in you.
Embrace the suffering, and you get a relief.”
—Thich Nhat Hanh

There’s some part in all of us that yearns to belong. This is our safety, our security. It means we can relax, that others are there to hold us, cherish us, praise us, and keep guard when we cannot. It means we matter.

When we’ve experienced a single relational disconnection, we generally recover. When it becomes a pattern—when someone who is “supposed to be there” for us finds ways to disengage or disappear on a daily basis—recovery feels intangible and unattainable. We make decisions about the self, saying, “I’m not wanted. I must be flawed.”

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Anxious Attachment Says: ‘You’re Not Giving Me Enough’

Those landing on the anxious side of attachment are often aware they are seeking others as a way to regulate their overwhelm. They may feel “clingy.” When living in this mode, many feel easily rejected or abandoned, becoming angry when partners fail to live up to perceived expectations. On guard, attuned to signs of others leaving, they easily fall into internal panic, exhibiting protest behaviors in often futile attempts to elicit caring responses. They may guilt or blame partners into submission, choosing to argue (and continue arguing) because it feels better than no connection at all, because preoccupation allows no other choice.

Many in this mode give up their own desires in attempts to win their partner’s approval, placing survival needs over authenticity. The “real” identity of their partner is often less relevant than the fact the partner presents as available just often enough for the preoccupied one to maintain an illusion of love. This can leave their partners feeling like disposable place-keepers, while for the anxious one, self-justification creates a paradoxical argument: “I would not put this much effort into someone who was not ‘the one.’ ”

Some have referred to this as “fantasy bonding”—in love with the idea of the person, often ignoring uncomfortable parts.

Many anxiously attached individuals recognize—in calmer moments, after the fact—they’ve been so involved with their own discomfort and dysregulation that they failed to catch unspoken emotional cues from partners that might have led to feelings of mutual connection and intimacy.

Anxious Relationship with the Self

Sometimes the panic itself becomes the enemy, and the anxious person develops strategies to hide or contain it, saying, “If others see this panic, they will leave me.” This message itself perpetuates internal conflict—self against self—amplifying pain as internal parts polarize.

While many, trapped in anxiety, function excessively in the presence of others (which can be perceived by others as demanding), when alone they may find tasks difficult to complete. Sometimes, in the absence of constant reassurance, they find their motivation dissolved. They may recognize an absence of perceived selfhood when not in the presence of another.

As familiar as the relational desperation becomes, they may find that when real intimacy is offered, they do not know how to be with it. It may fall flat. They may tell themselves they are just bored. They might distract themselves from it or sabotage it. It invokes too much shame, bringing to awareness parts of the self that they do not know how to meet.

Origins of Anxious Attachment

Many theories describe the creation of anxious attachment, citing both nature and nurture. One of the foremost frames the caregiver as someone overwhelmed by their child’s emotion. It might be a parent who appreciates or loves the baby while also feeling out of sync, helpless, as if there is no way to calm the baby. This is an unfortunate misattunement or inaccurate empathy. The baby, of course, gets more attention when crying, thus training it to use tantrums as a primary way to elicit attention and meet its security needs.

Another theory, one that could work in conjunction with the above: the caregiver who carries abandonment wounds actively (even subconsciously) creates dependence in their child, ensuring the child will need them and remain with them. The child of this parenting strategy is thus trained to remain a child, to take a dependent role in intimate relationships in order to get needs met.

Anxious Attachment in Conflict

Those on the anxious side of attachment fight in and for relationship, feeling incapable of calming until another person meets their needs for assurance. This often leads to long-term deterioration of the relationship as their partners learn to distance, placate, and resent rather than pursue seemingly endless conflict. This withdrawal by partners may perpetuate negative beliefs: “They are trying to leave me. I am not lovable. I have to make my emotion bigger to get a response.”

Open Letter from the Avoidant to the Anxiously Attached

I see your panic. I hear it in your breathing, your sighs, your many signs and gestures—the ones meant to elicit attention from me. I resent you in this mood because it means I lose a partner and gain a child. I become the parent. I become your “fix.” In your panic, my existence is no longer mine. I’m no longer free, whole, separate from you. With nobody in you to meet me, I am trapped and alone.

Your dependence becomes a weight for me to carry. It’s like a child in you with nowhere to go. Sometimes it feels like an insatiable bully, entitled, demanding I care for it. But it has no sense of time, and I could meet it for hours, resenting you each minute. And nothing changes.

I want to be loved, not needed.

Part of me also yearns to be taken care of.

Therapy for the Anxious: Bonding with the Self

In moments of interpersonal conflict, many of us switch to younger states. We disconnect from present-day resources, reacting not to partners but to parents. Even with adult partners, we return to perceptions, expectations, and strategies learned at an early age. We become the child in the empty room, feeling ourselves empty until it fills once again. Or we become the child playing in our room, safe, away from the needs or threats of others throughout the house, hoping no one comes to the door.

Invariably, in order to heal and decrease dependence on others, those on the anxious end of the spectrum will find themselves exploring ways to build an internal support structure—some part of the self that remains strong, dependable, unthreatened by intense emotion. This might be framed as “self-validation” or as an “internal parent.”

In the beginning, though, they naturally seek others—friends, partners, and therapists—to provide this support, validation, and witnessing. “This isn’t the way life is supposed to be,” they may say. “We are supposed to be able to depend on others.”

Some may recognize a resentment of the therapy work, even a shame in it. They may view self-sufficiency or self-soothing as a secondary strategy, only used when one fails to belong in the world. They may feel conflict internally and with their therapist, feeling blamed while also feeling victimized in relationship: “I’m the one who feels so devastated when people leave me. Yet you’re saying I play a part in that.”

Another Way to Frame Anxious Attachment

If we reframe “preoccupation” as the ongoing abandonment feelings of an inner child, we begin to differentiate from the part feeling the pain. This is important for the present-day adult who feels hijacked by emotions. It is also vitally important for the hurting child (or the old neural network that takes over) to have a compassionate internal witness.

If we reframe “preoccupation” as the ongoing abandonment feelings of an inner child, we begin to differentiate from the part feeling the pain. This is important for the present-day adult who feels hijacked by emotions. It is also vitally important for the hurting child (or the old neural network that takes over) to have a compassionate internal witness.

It’s hard to take ownership of the child inside, noticing that it reaches out to make demands of others—a natural next step when it finds no internal caregiver available.

There’s a message often internalized in childhood: the unspoken message from a parent saying, “I can’t handle this child! Let someone else take care of it.” It’s a message repeated internally when emotion is high, when the old state is triggered. Many in therapy eventually realize they actually hate the child in them. They hand this emotional part of the self out to others, saying to friends, families, and partners: “I can’t handle this child in me! It’s too much! You take care of it.”

It’s important to begin separating parts in this way, to speak of each in third person, to gradually hear the dialogue already occurring between them. This is differentiation, and it is a necessary component of self-soothing. We cannot witness a part when we are that part. It requires some distance. Effective witnessing requires the development of an internal “other.”

Developing internal parts is something most of us have already done many times throughout life. We’ve developed internal guards and gatekeepers—judges, parents. These are the parts that judge and contain us today.

We can also develop an internal witness—one that does not judge, is not threatened by any emotion, does not attack, pull away, pity, analyze, or try to fix. One that meets us with empathy and compassion to witness our pains and joys in the ways we always wished an other would.

An intentionally developed part is just as valid as the parts that developed automatically in life. The compassion and affirmation we can give ourselves is just as real and valid as the internal abuse we already trust. It’s all internal dialogue between parts of the self. In therapy, we are just making that dialogue more conscious and intentional.

Certain therapeutic approaches, such as Hakomi and Internal Family Systems, work precisely to create an internal environment of acceptance and unity, facilitating integration through differentiation of parts.

Some Final Points and Considerations

• Our own perceptions are less accurate when the body is in fight-or-flight mode. We easily catastrophize when activated. Mindfulness practice can increase present-moment awareness of our bodily activation level. When it gets too high, it’s okay to take a break, to step away from the argument, and to connect with resources to help your body calm. Life looks different on the other side of the nervous system.
• Another way to tell if you are activated: Can you hear someone’s “no” and not take it personally?
• It’s important to begin recognizing the elements of fantasy in your relationships. Do you want an equal partner? Are there moments you really do want to be taken care of? Most of us experience both.
• This struggle is common. It is human.
• Do you give up your own interests, ideas, ideals, and pursuits in order to keep a relationship?
• It’s okay to grieve the fantasy.

References:

1. Karen, R. (1998). Becoming attached: First relationships and how they shape our capacity to love. New York: Oxford University Press.
2. Kinnison, J. (2014). Type: Anxious-Preoccupied. Retrieved from https://jebkinnison.com/bad-boyfriends-the-book/type-anxious-preoccupied
3. Levine, A., & Heller, R. (2010). Attached: The new science of adult attachment and how it can help you find- and keep -love. New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher.

There is a great deal of literature and support available for parents of children with the traits or diagnosis of autism spectrum (ASD). I write often about relationships in which this describes one partner, and there are books available in support of such couples. But what if you suspect one of your parents may be on the spectrum? There are meager resources available which specifically address such concerns.

Perhaps you have children of your own now and one of them seems autistic, prompting you to look at your family of origin with new perspective. It’s also possible you discovered that you are autistic yourself. Or you have read enough about autism that it suddenly dawned on you that ASD might explain the challenges you have always had with a parent—challenges that have, up until now, baffled you. For the sake of this article, let’s say it is your father you are concerned about.

It can be sobering to think these thoughts after all these years. It can be frightening. You may wonder whether you even have the right to consider such a thing with regard to your own father, who otherwise seems to have a successful life and a mature career. In fact, this is one of the things that has never squared with you: your father has always seemed to be a different person to you than to the rest of the world. All these years, you thought the root of the problem resided within you. Now you are beginning to wonder.

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You may wonder why what feels like relentless critical judgment always seems more characteristic of your father than confidence-building positive acknowledgment (“If you can get an A in every other subject, why do you consistently get a B in mathematics?”).

You may wonder why your father never seems to get jokes (yours or anyone else’s), figures of speech (he takes things literally), or social conventions (“Valentine’s Day is merely an excuse for card companies to make money”).

You may wonder why he can send you checks but seldom seems to ask about or understand the emotional state you may be in at any given time.

You may wonder why your mother seldom has her own interests or friends anymore, but rather seems to live in support of your father’s plans and interests.

You may wonder why your father never hugs you and doesn’t seem to like it when you hug him.

You may wonder whether your father is depressed, because he has always been so quick to anger and so slow to recover from it.

You may feel angry about all the fruitless years you have spent trying to please your father. And you may feel guilty for feeling angry.

You may wonder why a father would set out to hurt his child over and over again without seeming to understand that he does it.

The main thing to remember is that your father came of age well before the notion of high-functioning autism (until recently called Asperger’s syndrome) was understood even within the ranks of mental health professionals. Until just recently, autism was imagined in its most dysfunctional forms, as characterized by children who seemed beyond the reach of language and behavioral communication. Milder forms of autism were generally not considered.

Since ASD is invisible, those who are now older adults and had the social manifestations of mild autism as children were likely described as being “quirky,” as being someone who “hears a different drum,” or who “likes to keep to themselves.” They may have had few friends, a chemistry lab in their bedroom, and a preference for the company of adults, which was facilitated by advanced language skills.

When we do ASD evaluations as psychotherapists, we generally meet with the individual for several sessions to gather as much information as we can. Since there is no specific test for ASD, the process is narrative. Meetings with the spouse or children are of great importance in this process, because by definition people with ASD are not able to provide insight into what it is like to love them and to live with them.

The intense special interests of children with ASD were viewed most often as precocious (“Brian knows everything there is to know about the solar system”), perhaps interesting (“if you want to know anything about dinosaurs, Amber is the one to ask”), but also sometimes as weird (“Thomas knows everything there is to know about industrial exhaust systems”). The judgment depended on how mainstream the child’s special interest appeared to be.

For the fortunate, their special interests aligned with academic pursuits that led to successful professional careers (law, medicine, university professorships, music, engineering). Such individuals applied their extraordinary powers of concentration to their fields and may have had stellar success as a result. For their children and wives, this can be a source of great confusion, because this is where the split becomes most obvious to them: the doctor, the attorney, the engineer can be prominent and well-respected in the world outside the home, but when the doors are closed and the family is home alone, another person emerges. This is the person who prefers to eat in silence, who returns to the study each evening after supper only to emerge well past everyone else’s bedtimes, and who then leaves the house earlier than everyone else the next morning. This is the person who has never attended a ballet performance, who has never changed a diaper, and who may sometimes read bedtime stories in stylized and stilted English to the children.

I can tell you some things about the points I raised earlier that might help you to make sense of your father’s behavior from his perspective. This list is not exhaustive, but it can be a start.

• Regarding the critical judgment you always felt: If your father has ASD, one of the most important guiding principles in his life is likely to be his sense of justice and fairness. Therefore, for him to notice that you are clearly capable of getting all As on your report cards except for the errant Bs in math most likely means he is driven to call your attention to the problem so you can remedy it. To him, it seems perfectly clear: now that you see the error in your grading pattern, you will be able to fix it and get an A in every class. It is less likely to occur to him that you may be struggling with an ineffective instructor in math, or that you just don’t like the subject and are doing your best. It is particularly unlikely he would commend you on all the As you did receive; the grades are their own rewards, and there is little he is going to believe would be necessary to add to that. He will assume you know this already, because he will assume you think the same way he thinks.
• If your dad doesn’t get jokes, tends to take things literally, and balks at social conventions such as celebrating birthdays and holidays, it is likely due to the fact individuals with ASD process the world cognitively and not intuitively (the way of the neurotypical). This means that much of what is communicated by body language, tone of voice, gesture, facial expression, and posture is likely to go unnoticed; the meaning of the words will be heard without mitigation. Jokes fall flat. And the social conventions, those unstated but generally understood reasons for celebrating birthdays and holidays, will make no sense because they do not seem practical.
• Sending you checks may be your father’s primary means of showing he cares for you. He may not ask how you are feeling, and he may not respond much if you volunteer such information, because he is not likely to be comfortable in the realm of the emotions. This doesn’t mean he has no feelings; to the contrary, he likely feels things very deeply. He is probably at a loss for how to express them, however, and at a loss for how to offer you support when you express yours. Emotions generally don’t make sense to him.
• If you look at the arc of your mother’s life and see a constriction in her self-expression now compared to how she was when she was younger, it may be because it is so very difficult to be married to someone with ASD. Years of feeling judged and criticized have left their mark. She is lonely and tired, and she has no emotional support from the man she loves. She likely has deep pain that even she doesn’t understand. She may seem resigned to growing old, even though she is not old at all. She is likely to know your father better than anyone else. She may find great relief in your courage to come to her and raise the question. This is something for you to think about carefully, however, because sometimes bringing up ASD can sound like an accusation instead of a thoughtful inquiry to those prepared to be defensive.
• Many people who have ASD do not like to be hugged, nor do they hug others freely. It may not make sense, or it may be physically uncomfortable. Regardless, it is not to be taken personally because it is not meant personally. It is tough to think your father doesn’t want to hug you, but remember: he probably doesn’t like to hug anyone at all.
• Older adults with ASD have spent their lives trying to figure out the neurotypical world, often with great fears of never quite getting things right. This may create constant anxiety, and being on the spectrum is above all exhausting. This is why preferring to be alone for long hours is so important: transitions between one state and another (from the office to home, for example) can feel almost impossible to manage. After years of anxiety, depression is not unusual in individuals with ASD. In fact, anxiety and depression are the hallmarks of adult ASD. Your father may not describe himself as anxious or depressed, but his behavior may demonstrate these qualities.
• Your anger and frustration make sense if your father has ASD. You are just now beginning to wonder about this. Memories of frustration and disillusionment may come flooding into your mind. Remember this: you did the best you could possibly do given your age and experience at any particular phase in your life. Feeling guilty now may make sense to you, but it isn’t in your best interest because when you were growing up, you didn’t do anything with the sole intent of hurting your father. You just wanted him to be your dad. You may have acted out. That’s what kids do because they are not mature enough to do anything else. Now that you are older and more mature yourself, your inquiry is also more mature. Cut yourself some slack. This is a time to be gentle with yourself.
• Above all, the most salient point regarding ASD is this: what you see and experience in your father’s words and behavior may be different from what he means by them. It is critical to understand that your father is probably not intending to hurt you, and at the same time it is imperative to acknowledge that your pain is real. This is the great tragedy of ASD.

What can you do now that you have these questions? I recommend finding a therapist who has both a keen understanding of autism spectrum issues as well as deep compassion for those on the spectrum and for those in that person’s life. Make an appointment to discuss your thoughts and your concerns. Feel welcome to ask many questions so you can gain a sound grasp of what it means to have ASD. Remember, however, that no therapist can diagnose your father in absentia; he would need to be present in order for this to be done.

When we do ASD evaluations as psychotherapists, we generally meet with the individual for several sessions to gather as much information as we can. Since there is no specific test for ASD, the process is narrative. Meetings with the spouse or children are of great importance in this process, because by definition people with ASD are not able to provide insight into what it is like to love them and to live with them.

If after a few sessions you believe your father may have ASD, you can discuss with your therapist whether bringing this question to your father might be a good idea. There are possible benefits, to be sure. There are also possible risks. You may find it is enough for you to understand ASD well enough that you can now relate differently to your father. Or you may decide you’d like to talk to him about the possibility of coming with you to therapy to share what you are learning.

There is always the possibility this will come to him like rain in the desert and that he will welcome the opportunity to explore the possibility he has ASD. I have seen many adults cry when they recognize themselves in the diagnosis, because for the first time, certain things about their experiences over a lifetime finally begin to make sense to them. ASD becomes the key that unlocks a lifetime of mysteries.

On the other hand, he may give you a blank (or even hostile) look and dismiss the subject. If so, it may not be a good idea to push it. He has built his life with an understanding of himself that has served him well enough by his definition. Perhaps the inquiry and exploration will be for you alone. It can still be helpful to you, even without his involvement.

Finally, please remember that if your father has ASD, you likely have had a difficult childhood. It will be important for you to find a therapist who understands the impact of ASD on your life. I wish you well in your inquiry, and hope a new understanding will lead to hope and forgiveness in your life from this day forward.

When it comes to knowing ourselves, ideas and mental constructs are overrated. We put too much emphasis on conceptual knowledge and not enough on direct experience.

While it’s tempting to use only cognitive methods to “figure ourselves out,” when we can let go of the mental stories and rest in direct experience as it unfolds, we challenge the habitual ways we make sense of who we are.

When we see ourselves in this direct way, a response of fear is common; our culture trains us to know ourselves through the mind. But rest assured, this fear is a sign of growth. In order for us to grow, we have to move beyond our familiar sense of who we are and into unknown territory—and our natural response to the unknown is typically fear. If we learn to become comfortable with this fear and stop judging it as a sign of weakness or another negative, we begin to open a door of great discovery and even excitement.

Of course, this is easier said than done. Our habitual ways and defenses are deeply ingrained, and a lot of dedication is needed to move beyond them. Below are some ways to work with the fear that inevitably comes up as we journey inside.

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Resting in Not Knowing

It isn’t easy to be with the sensation of not knowing. We tend to either compulsively take action to find answers or avoid situations that trigger the sense of not knowing altogether. What we often miss here is a third option: By staying with the inner experience of not knowing, at the same time fully feeling the desire to know without pushing for an answer, we can experience new levels of self-awareness.

Again, this radical approach isn’t easy. It takes time and practice to develop the capacity to tolerate the experience of not knowing without trying to control it.

Connecting to Aliveness

When we are able to stay with the sensations of insecurity, nervousness, or fear that come from being with the unknown, we also connect with our aliveness. At this point, aliveness and fear can feel like the same thing—but upon further exploration and working skillfully with the uncomfortable sensations of fear, we can begin to discern how excitement is an aliveness different from fear. This sense of aliveness becomes a major player in our development if we learn to trust it, but it requires us to be willing to feel what we encounter in our experience.

Conversely, when we try to deny any part of our inner experience, we only reject parts of ourselves—and this blocks our vitality and joy.

The Body Is Your Ally

If we learn to sense our bodies directly instead of trying to figure things out mentally when we feel a fear of the unknown, we are doing the work. Fear shows itself in many ways, but fundamentally it has a physiological manifestation. If we sense it directly in the body, we develop tolerance for these experiences. When we try to work with fear only at the level of thoughts or even emotions, we are unlikely to deepen in our self-discovery.

For example, say you notice you’re experiencing obsessive thinking about something in the future: you might try to apply a mental solution by appealing to reason, and you may even find temporary relief. However, later on, that anxiety manifests again, perhaps with a different story. What if, instead, you turned toward the body, without ignoring the thoughts, and focused on the actual sensations of the anxiety (e.g., tightness, heavy breathing, vibration, etc.)? You may discover that the sensations themselves, without the attached meaning your mind attributes to them, are more manageable than you think.

Furthermore, you may begin to see there’s a feedback loop between thoughts, emotions, and body sensations. In other words, by understanding the relationship between thinking, feeling, and body sensations, you may see how stories and mental strategies only reinforce the sense of anxiety. This is a liberating insight that can give us the confidence to be with any internal experience.

Don’t Be Afraid of Fear

Fear will inevitably arise when we encounter the unknown, and the more comfortable we become with the different sensations that occur, the easier they may be to navigate. After enough practice, we can begin to recognize that fear is simply a natural response of our nervous system when it encounters the unknown.

If we are not experiencing fear in our lives, we are not growing. We are most likely staying in our comfort zone.

Be Aware of Counterphobic Tendencies

When encountering new layers of fear and defenses, some people tend to dive into these experiences head-on, believing they will “master” the experience. There can be a reckless pushing through with great force that wants to break open the fear and the defenses, but what is behind that movement is fear itself.

Learning to tolerate not knowing and the uncomfortable space that arises when we first encounter new defenses is a practice in itself. The key here is not so much to charge through the experience or break your defenses in a rushed way, but to get in touch with the outer layers of the defense.

Usually what we encounter if we don’t force anything is vulnerability and tenderness. Hanging out in those spaces without trying to change them is the real challenge. Staying open with the parts of you that are terrified—which means being able to slow down and hang out with the vulnerability—is the real brave act, not jumping over it or trying to break through.

For instance, my wife recently confronted me with some patterns of behavior of mine that were affecting her in a negative way. My first reaction was defensive. I was arguing back to her, and I was trying to blame her. As I recognized I was being defensive, I noticed that my chest and solar plexus were contracted. I found myself trying to break open the defensiveness and the contraction. I was trying to force myself to not be defensive.

I recognized I was doing this and that I was in fact being violent toward myself. I took a few breaths, slowed down, and brought in space. With that space, I recognized there was fear and that the fear was pushing the forceful energy. I stayed with the uncomfortableness of the contraction and the mental defensiveness. I simply observed them and felt them without trying to change them. As I allowed the experience, I became more tolerant of it, developed some understanding about it, and bit by bit it dissolved. I was left in an open, spacious, and peaceful state. I was able to see what my wife meant, and I was able to validate her experience and stay open to mine.

Usually what we encounter if we don’t force anything is vulnerability and tenderness. Hanging out in those spaces without trying to change them is the real challenge. Staying open with the parts of you that are terrified—which means being able to slow down and hang out with the vulnerability—is the real brave act, not jumping over it or trying to break through.

In a way, it is more of a challenge to stay with the edges of the experience than to dive in, but if we pull it off, two very important things can happen. First, we build our capacity to tolerate ambiguity and not knowing. In a way, it’s like building endurance by training for a marathon. We don’t push ourselves to run the whole thing when we start training but gradually challenge ourselves more each time. The second thing that can happen is we may uncover related unconscious content from the “bottom up,” instead of figuring it out from a purely mental perspective. In other words, by staying with the outer edges of an experience, memories and mental images can come naturally, without us having to figure out anything.

In my example above, when I felt the chest contraction and observed my mind, I became conscious that my wife’s telling me I was hurting her with my behavior triggered old wounds from my family of origin that did not have to do anything with the current situations. Seeing that allowed me to relax more and not judge my reactivity as bad, but rather to recognize it as a natural response given my past conditioning.

The key here is to stay present and curious in a dynamic and engaged way without pushing and without an agenda. This is not an easy process, and it can take time to develop this receptive attitude. Typically, we need others who have explored the territory before us to help us navigate our inner world.

A Word of Caution

Depending on the level of psychological injury we incurred when we were infants or children, our capacity to relax and tolerate body sensations can be compromised, and we may benefit from therapy. If as young children we were traumatized or chronically neglected in our environment, we may need reparative experiences to heal those deep, early wounds. The level of contraction that early psychological injury creates in the human organism may require a lot of soothing and healing work.

The good news is there are many compassionate therapists who focus on early trauma, wounding, and attachment. It’s imperative that the parts of us that are closed off begin to open in the safety of a compassionate, loving presence.

The Role of the Inner Critic

As we get in touch with the young and vulnerable parts of ourselves, our inner critic may try to persuade us to not continue on this path. It may use all kinds of strategies to steer us away from these places (i.e., “You are so weak!” or, “This is a waste of time!”). So it’s important to recognize when this is happening and work skillfully with the inner critic. It’s also important to recognize the inner critic is a defense motivated by fear.

Although fear can be paralyzing and problematic, and in some cases people may feel stuck or trapped by it, fear can also be seen as a sign of growth. Encountering fear and its associated defensive mechanisms means we are at the edge of our comfortable experience. As we encounter the fear that arises every time we get out of our comfort zone, we can learn to skillfully navigate our inner experience and find deeper levels of peace.