A Child Cries in Despair

On the surface, it looked like a "normal" family. 

If only it had worked out. If only God had aligned these two people in mind, soul, and priorities.

Sometimes love doesn’t work out—not because people don’t care, but because they don't know how to meet each other, no matter how hard they try.

Two adults under the same roof, both devoted to the same child. There was pain, there was distance, there was betrayal, there was misunderstanding. Sometimes, it’s simply two people who are unable, and often unwilling, to do the hard work of emotional growth together.

And now a child cries in despair for an idea of a love they want, but a love that never really existed. 

When a child cries out, all a parent can do is comfort and try to make things make sense, to talk about what love actually is. Not just the fantasy or the chemistry, but the action and choice required to make love work. Love is two people choosing each other, especially when things get hard and uncomfortable. Love withers and dies when we stop showing up, when we refuse to grow out of fear. 

This child deserves to grow into a healthy, happy, and loving person who will enter into secure relationships with confidence. 

It's one of the reasons I've been studying attachment science off and on for a few years. I want to be a better counterpart for my current partner. I want to be a better parent, better sister, better daughter, better pastor, better leader: A BETTER HUMAN.

Attachment science tells us that the way we navigate adult relationships (family, platonic, romantic) starts in infancy (yes, itty bitty babies!) with our primary caregivers. It can also take into account how caregivers relate to their children as they grow, as well as traumatic experiences in adult relationships. 

Attachment is shaped by how we were comforted (or not), how we were allowed to need others (or not), and whether we learned to trust that loved ones would actually stay close when we were vulnerable.

If you learned to survive by keeping distance, (Avoidant) shutting down, or solving everything yourself, it's not brokenness; it's adaptation. It doesn’t mean you don’t need connection; it just means closeness feels risky. Healing requires you to see that the risk is worth it. 

If you learned to survive by clinging tightly, (Anxious) overthinking, or trying to earn love through overgiving, it's not brokenness; it's adaptation. It doesn’t mean you’re too much or too needy; it just means uncertainty feels threatening. Healing requires learning to trust that real love won’t disappear when you stop chasing it.

If you learned to trust others, express your needs, and stay present in connection—it's not luck, it's a reflection of the safety you were shown early on. It doesn’t mean you never struggle; it just means connection often feels safe. You can serve as a healing presence for those who struggle. 

The work of healing is slow. It's frustrating.

But it’s possible. And it’s worth it... because when you heal, you stop hurting yourself and the people you love. You stop confusing distance with safety. You stop running when things get real. Or, you stop exhausting yourself trying to prove you're worthy. You stop confusing anxiety with love. You stop chasing people who never fully choose you.

I thank God that our child has two parents who show up, who don't abandon her, who make sure she knows, despite our own failed love, that she is safe and fully loved.

She can cry in despair and anger. She can be fully herself without shame, and she’ll still be held. That’s how a child grows into someone emotionally strong and secure.

That’s what breaks the cycle. You can break your cycle. You can fully heal. 

*If you experience struggles in your relationships... whether you pull too far too away, or lean in too closely, I highly suggest taking one or all of these quizzes. And take them honestly. Anyone can lie on a test to get a good result. Be honest with yourself, you owe yourself that. Remember, they do not diagnose and can be wrong, but if any of it resonates, work with a therapist to start healing. It'll be worth it. 

The Attachment Project - takes into account ALL your relationships, not just romantic. Page 6 flips the "highly likely" and "not at all likely" scale, so be careful. 

The Personal Development School - super quick, and super... I don't know, not my favorite. Easy to manipulate for the results you want. 

Yourself 1st - this one cost $1.95 to get the results. 

Qualtrics - this one is gathering data for an actual study, so it's very in depth. 

And, of course, you can check out many different real (yes, real) YouTube therapists who discuss this topic.  

Built in Self Protection

Of course, the often disputed question of whether God can – and will, under certain conditions – remove defects of character will be answered with a prompt affirmative by almost any AA member. To her, this proposition will be no theory at all; it will be just about the largest fact in her life. (Twelve & Twelve, Step 6)

I have struggled throughout my life wanting to be perfect. Maybe we're all like that, but sometimes I get the sense I struggle with the illness more than others. 

I always wanted to be the smartest person in the room. I have two bachelors degrees and a masters. I had this subconscious ailment that told me I had to be smart to be loved. I realized about a year into my sobriety journey, that I was seeking outside love, rather than loving myself...and it was never enough. 

I was self-seeking, self-centered, glory-obsessed, approval-seeking, self-aggrandizing, people-pleasing, envious - - - (Not saying I'm not entirely those things now, but I'm getting better). If you didn't see me as perfect, I would lie, distort the truth, mislead, change my persona... all so I could be acceptable in someone else's eyes.

It was exhausting and dark.

Now that I'm on the other side of the downward spiral, things haven't fallen right into place like I thought they would. I still struggle in relationships. I want to bring my best self to everything I do, but of course, I'm human and mess up from time to time. When someone points out a flaw, justified or not, I want to argue and explain why I've done something the way I've done it. 

Bringing my concerns and the hurt I experience to the forefront is still hard. I still minimize my needs. I adjust myself to not inconvenience or potentially hurt the other person. 

I don't know how to cultivate healthy relationships where dialogue flows. I try so hard to express my feelings but back down the minute the person I'm telling offers a rebuttal. 

I'm on this proverbial teeter-totter a lot: "do I express my discontent? "Do I just try to expect the best from people?" "Do I let things slide?" "I'm being taken advantage of if I do?" "What do I do?" 

It's no wonder I drank - the alcohol took it all away, pushed it down deep within. It would then allow me to unload on people when I couldn't hold it in anymore.

The first piece of wisdom I heard tonight: "We all have built-in self-protection." We don't like to be hurt and in our unhealthy states we rely on our shortcomings (character defects). When I feel hurt, I immediately try my best to adjust myself and be perfect for you (people pleasing). I start to forget who I am (dishonest toward myself) and become restless, irritable, and discontent. 

And then I shut down.

The second piece of wisdom I heard tonight: Being upset with each other and arguing, isn't a big deal - it's not about getting it right, it's about not being ruined when I don't get it right. It's about not taking ourselves so seriously. If we step back we begin to see that we're just tweaking things in our lives. 

Life is a series of little tweaks along the way. So long as we can show up for each other, hear each other, and try to do our best. In those difficult moments, when we confront the moments of tweaking with hearts open and grace (even when we don't like what we're hearing) we can push past the darker parts of ourselves (character defects) and grow.