Updated: May 7, 2021
Mykolas and I started looking for an apartment together, which if you've read my previous entries, you'll know is a first for me. So, it's exciting :), but also a process I'm mildly resenting. Not because of him, or anything related to our relationship, but because of how attached I get to possibility.
When I finally land on the perfect listing after long days of browsing, snapshots of what our lives could be instantly flash across my mind: the corner reading nook where I curl up with Lily and delight in our quiet time, the kitchen that doubles as the 24/7 workspace and the 'I'm the hostess with the mostess' dining venue, the bold-colored couch, hand-picked exclusively for professional loafing (and, ahem, other jobs I won't mention here). It all comes together in a way that feels so real to me.
But as is inevitable with any apartment-search, almost as soon as the dream is born, it's violently killed off— by some other person who gets to the listing first, or some pain-in-the-butt fine print that we just can't get down with. And when that happens, I sink into a period of mourning before eventually having to pep-talk myself into starting the process all over again.
I feel my emotions strongly. I try not to let them hook me, not let them lead me around like a big dog on a leash (as one of my favorite books advises), but I'm a work in progress. Dating in my twenties, I found myself in cyclical heartbreak, sometimes taking years to get over guys that were really nothing more than brief flings. So fatigued by disappointment, I spent a season analyzing myself through a lens of attachment theory. Attachment theory is all about how your relationship with a primary care-giver in infancy impacts your ability to develop intimacy and trust with others. Up until that point, I identified with the anxious-attachment style (mostly through process of elimination, I definitely wasn't any of the others), though, over the years, I fortunately grew secure in my attachment behavior, thanks to taking proactive steps towards my own independent happiness and fostering relationships with other secure-types.
Attachment theory is most famously contextualized within relationships, but we certainly can be attached to more than just people; we can be attached to material things, to memories, to possibilities, to ideas. Honestly, I think my attachment issue always had more to do with me falling in love with the idea of a lover or the idea of what me and a partner could be, rather than any sneaking suspicion that they'd love me and leave me (a conceivable threat for anxious-attachment types).
I'm a dreamer. So sue me. Possibility gets me excited, and while I believe in calculated risk-taking, you probably won't find me with both feet firmly planted on the ground at any given moment. As much grief as my attachment-style has brought me over the years, I wouldn't wish this dreamer nature of mine away. Too often, my attachment to ideas has been responsible for manifesting beautiful things into my life. It's been the fuel delivering me from places I didn't want to be and infusing me with enough gusto to take action and self-actualize.
If I tried to force a traditional attachment-style analysis onto my relationship with my personal goals, I'd surely be secure attachment. As far as my music career goes, it's never really been a question of if for me, but when I'll make it. Maybe it's age, or maybe it's the fact that your own independent ideas are far easier to influence than the actions of others— I've just always felt greater certainty here than in other realms. I still feel the heartbreak from a missed opportunity or an unsuccessful audition, but my rebound-time is fast. Disappointment doesn't do me in. It just nudges me to pivot.
I suppose I don't have to be so on-edge when it comes to the apartment-search, but just remind myself that secure attachment-style is where it's at. Maintain unshakeable faith that the right apartment is out there for us and conviction that I'm competent and deserving enough to reel that bad boy in.
Have you given much thought to your own attachment style? And how it impacts your relationships? Life Goals? Well-being and peace of mind?
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Aquarius Rising is an account of what love looks like
when you consciously choose it for yourself.
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