Healing your attachment patterns isn't... | Georgia Telehealth Therapy

So, think about this for a second. If you have like a broken arm, getting an X-ray doesn't actually set the bone, right? >> Right. Obviously not. >> Yeah. I mean, you can scare that X-ray all day. You can point right to the compound fracture. You can you can even frame it and hang it on your wall if you want to, >> which would be a little weird, but sure. >> Exactly. But unless you're actually willing to let a doctor physically manipulate that bone back into place and then endure the uh the heavy restrictive just deeply uncomfortable reality of wearing a cast for 6 weeks, your arm is never going to heal. >> It's just going to stay broken, >> right? Yet millions of us are treating our relationship trauma by obsessively collecting these like psychological X-rays. We categorize ourselves as anxious or avoidant or disorganized while entirely refusing to put on the cast. >> Yeah. We mistake the diagnosis for the cure. We really think that if we can just name the dysfunction, we've somehow conquered it. >> And that is a very, very dangerous place to get stuck. Welcome to the deep dive. Today, our mission is to break down the actual literal mechanics of healing, how we connect with others, >> which is so needed right now. >> It really is. Today we're looking at some incredible excerpts from a text called the practice of secure attachment. And we're also going to explore a realworld clinic doing this work, coping and healing counseling or CHC. >> And just to be clear, not as a sponsor, >> right? Not a sponsor. We're looking at them as this really fascinating clinical case study of how a safe therapeutic container actually alters your nervous system. We are pulling all of this together for you today because honestly the way we talk about relationship healing online right now is fundamentally flawed. So, uh, let's unpack this. >> Let's do it. I mean, the core argument of the source text, it just hits you right between the eyes immediately. It explicitly argues that healing your attachment patterns isn't about finding the right label, right? >> Taking a, you know, a highly targeted internet quiz about why you text the way you do cannot do the work for you. Healing requires practice, not better self-labeling. See, I have to pause you there because I want to challenge this hostility toward the label a bit. For a lot of people listening, finally discovering the term like fearful avoidant or just understanding their attachment style, it's a massive relief. >> Oh, absolutely. >> It gives them a vocabulary for their pain. Isn't that insight? Like the necessary first step? Why does the source text treat the label like a >> Well, the text isn't anti-insight, right? But it warns heavily against getting marooned on the island of insight. The relief you're talking about is very real. But clinically, we often see that relief curdle into a defense mechanism. It's called intellectualization. >> Oh, wow. Good. >> Yeah. You essentially use your newfound psychological vocabulary to build this very articulate wall between yourself and actual vulnerability. >> Oh, I see what you mean. >> Right. You tell your partner, "I'm pulling away because my avoidant attachment is triggered by your anxious pursuit." Which sounds like profound self-awareness, but in reality, >> you're still pulling away. Exactly. You were still repeating the exact same behavioral loop just with much better vocabulary. >> You just have a heavily researched explanation for why you're remaining miserable. >> That is the trap. And the text introduces this vital concept to counter this. It's called corrective relational experiences. Change happens through these corrective experiences, not through passive insight. >> Okay. What's the difference there? >> Well, passive insight relies on declarative memory. That's the part of your brain that memorizes facts. But your attachment style doesn't live in your declarative memory. It lives in your procedural memory. >> Procedural memory like like muscle memory. >> Exactly like that. Alongside things like riding a bike or swimming. It is a highly ingrained biological reflex that's managed by your nervous system. >> Oh, okay. So reading a book about how to ride a bike doesn't mean you won't immediately fall over when you actually get on one. >> Right. Well, what's really fascinating here is how the text separates the intellectual from the biological. You can sit alone in your room and have a brilliant insight about your childhood, but your amygdala, the uh the threat detection center of your brain, hasn't changed its wiring one bit >> because it hasn't actually experienced anything new. >> Precisely. A corrective relational experience, however, is active. It requires another human being. It requires you to step into a dynamic where your procedural memory expects the old painful thing to happen >> like expecting to be rejected, >> rejected or smothered, whatever it is, and then radically a new safer thing happens instead. That contrast is what literally physically rewrites the brain. >> Which brings us to honestly the most difficult part of this source material. Because if active practice is required to overwrite that procedural memory, the natural question for you listening is what on earth does this practice actually look and feel like in real time. >> And it's not easy. >> No. The text gives us these visceral micro moments. It talks about noticing the urge to pull away or to grip tighter before you act on it. It talks about asking for what you need without apologizing for having a need. >> Yeah, asking without apologizing is a monumental sematic hurdle. It requires immense physical regulation. And it goes even further. The source talks about letting someone show up for you without bracing for them to leave. Tolerating closeness when your body wants to run and tolerating space when your body wants to chase. >> It's intense. >> It is being seen in your hardest patterns and not running from being seen. Reading that list, I mean, the language is so intense. When your body wants to run, I really have to push back on the practicality of this. >> Fair enough. How is someone actually supposed to override a biological urge to flee your chase when their nervous system is literally screaming at them to survive? >> Asking someone to tolerate that, it feels like asking them to rewrite a computer's core operating system while it's in the middle of fighting off a massive malware attack. >> Right? >> The system is just too busy surviving to accept new code. >> That is actually a highly accurate way to describe an amydala hijacking. When that biological urge hits, say your partner asks for some space and your body interprets that as imminent abandonment, >> your brain is instantly flooded with cortisol and adrenaline. >> You're just drowning in stress hormones. >> Exactly. Your prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for logic and reasoning, it essentially just goes offline. You are in pure survival mode. The text doesn't ask you to simply turn off that alarm because that is biologically impossible at first. >> Then what is the actual mechanism? Like how do you install the new code? You focus entirely on the timeline of the reaction. The text really highlights the word before. The practice is about slowing down time in these micro moments. It's about expanding the gap between the trigger and the reaction. >> Expanding the gap. Okay. >> Yeah. You feel the sweaty palms. You feel the tight chest. You recognize the sudden intense urge to send 14 anxious text messages or the urge to completely shut down and walk out the door. And you just pause. >> Wait, just a pause. That's it. Even for just two or three seconds, in that two-c pause, you take a deep breath which engages your vag nerve. >> Right. The vagus nerve. >> Yeah. And that physical act of breathing forces a signal back to the amydala saying, "Hey, we are not currently being chased by a predator. That micro pause starts to bring your prefrontal cortex back online." >> Oh wow. So, you're forcing a reboot >> essentially. Yes. You are intentionally forcing your higher reasoning to communicate with your panicked survival instincts. You're teaching your body that the present moment is safe even though it feels identical to a past moment that was dangerous. >> But the text is very careful to add a massive caveat here, which I think is crucial. No one expects you to do this flawlessly on day one. It says this happens slowly and usually with help. >> Usually a lot of help >> because trying to do that level of nervous system override in the middle of a screaming match with your partner is just a recipe for failure. >> Yeah. Yeah. And this raises an important question, doesn't it? If we need a safe space to practice these excruciatingly vulnerable micro moments, where do we find a relationship stable enough to handle our messiest attempts at healing? >> Because your partner is right in the mess with you, >> right? Your romantic partner is often too triggered by your behavior to be the purely objective, steady presence you need when you first start practicing this. >> And that is exactly where the source material points directly to the clinical container. It states that the therapy relationship itself becomes the practice ground. It's one of the most powerful mechanisms of change operating right alongside your outside relationships. >> It's the sandbox. >> Yes, the sandbox. And to really understand the mechanics of this, our sources point to a highly specific realworld case study. This is coping and healing counseling or CHC. And again, we aren't looking at them to just read a brochure. We're looking at them because their entire clinical ecosystem perfectly illustrates how to actually build this safe relational container. >> Right? Because when we talk about a safe relational container, we often focus entirely on the emotional demeanor of the therapist. Like, are they nice? Are they empathetic? >> Sure. >> But the structural framework of the clinic itself dictates whether a patient's nervous system feels safe enough to even attempt the practice we just described. >> Yeah. Let's analyze CHC's structural approach because it fundamentally alters the baseline anxiety of the patient. So, first they operate entirely via teleahalth covering every single county in Georgia, >> all 159 counties. >> Right? And on the surface you might think, wait, isn't a digital screen a barrier to deep relational attachment work? But for someone with intense trauma or avoidance, walking into a sterile, unfamiliar clinical building, that spikes their cortisol before they even sit down in the chair. >> Oh, absolutely. Bringing the clinical container directly into the patient's living room. It allows them to remain in a physically familiar, highly regulated environment. It actually bypasses a significant layer of defensive armor. >> That makes so much sense. >> But the most crucial structural intervention CHC makes is actually financial, >> the removal of financial friction. >> Yes, a safe relational container isn't actually safe if it's constantly threatening your financial stability. If a patient is terrified of a $200 out-of-pocket bill every week, their amygdala is already primed for a threat, >> right? They're already in survival mode. >> Exactly. Their system is anticipating scarcity and danger. If we look at how CHC operates, they aggressively dismantle this barrier. They accept Medicaid, which effectively zeros out the cost for vulnerable patients. >> Wow. Zero co-pay. >> Zero. And they partner with major insurance networks like Etna, Sigma, BCBS, UHC, Humanana to drive session costs down to like a a price of a takeout dinner around $30 to $40 a session. >> See, that isn't just an administrative perk. That's a physiological intervention. >> It absolutely is. When you remove the sheer panic of paying for specialized trauma work, you are lowering the baseline cortisol levels of the patient before the session even begins. You are making the practice ground sturdy, right? in a sturdy container. When that biological urge to flee or chase flares up, the patient isn't also battling financial resentment. >> They can actually focus on the micro moment. And they have a diverse team of like 15 plus licensed therapists, LCSSWS, LPCs, LMFTs. So, you're matching with someone who actually gets you. And they cover teens 13 and up, families, couples, trauma, PTSD, grief. It's comprehensive. >> It has to be comprehensive to provide that container. If you are listening to this and realizing that you need a sandbox to practice these micro moments, you have to seek out clinical environments that are structured like this case study. Doing this alone, relying solely on your romantic partner to absorb your unhealed procedural memory, it's just usually a recipe for mutual destruction. >> If you're in Georgia and want to see this model in action, you can literally just call them at 404832102 or visit setherapy.com. You can even email them at support@chair theapy.com >> because the therapeutic relationship is explicitly designed to handle your urge to flee or chase. Right? >> If you get scared and pull away from a therapist or if you become overly anxious and demand constant reassurance, >> their job isn't to punish you for it. Their job is to notice it with you safely without judgment in real time. >> That's the corrective experience. >> That is the essence of a corrective relational experience. You expect to be shamed for your reaction and instead you were met with curious, compassionate consistency. >> Okay, so we've talked about the trap of relying solely on passive labels. We've broken down the intense microlevel practice of expanding the gap between trigger and reaction and we've established the absolute necessity of a structurally safe clinical container to do this work. But what is the payoff, >> right? Why do all this? Why put ourselves through the profound discomfort of overriding our own survival instincts? But here's where it gets like really interesting. >> The destination the text points us toward is a clinical concept known as earned secure attachment. >> Earned secure attachment. And this is the part I am frankly most skeptical of. The text emphasizes that earned secure attachment is well documented and possible at any age. >> Any age. >> Any age. I really have to challenge this. If our core nervous system reactions are cemented by the time we're five years old based on how our primary caregivers held us or didn't hold us, how can we just practice our way out of it at age 40 or 50? Is this actual neuroscience or is it just wishful psychological thinking to make us feel better? >> No, it is deeply grounded in neuroscience, specifically the science of neuroplasticity. For a long time, the scientific consensus was indeed that your brain's architecture was mostly fixed by early adulthood. That's what I was always taught, >> right? But we now know that adult neurogenesis, which is the creation of new neurons and the rewiring of neural pathways, that continues until the day we die. >> So the hardware isn't bricked. >> It's not bricked at all. Yeah. And if we connect this to the bigger picture, it is one of the most empowering concepts in modern psychology. The prevailing cultural narrative often weaponizes attachment theory. We treat anxious or avoidant as permanent personality traits. >> Almost like astrological signs. >> Exactly. People say, "Oh, I'm an avoidant. I can't help it. It's just who I am." They use the label to abdicate responsibility. But earn secure attachment reframes this entirely. It proves that your attachment style is not a life sentence. It's a dynamic skill set. >> It's a muscle that has atrophied. >> A muscle that perhaps was never properly trained in the first place because the environment you grew up in didn't allow for it. >> Mhm. In a chaotic or neglectful childhood environment, being highly avoidant or highly anxious wasn't a dysfunction. It was a brilliant necessary adaptation to survive. >> Wow. Your brain did exactly what it was supposed to do. >> It kept you safe. >> But you were operating in a new environment now using an outdated survival strategy. >> Precisely. And through repeated practice in safe relational containers, again, not through better self-labeling, but through actual terrifying lived practice of pausing, regulating the body, and experiencing a new outcome. You build entirely new neural pathways. >> And what happens to the old ones? >> Well, the old pathways don't necessarily vanish completely. They just become the roads less traveled. The new secure pathways become the default highway. You can earn the security that you were not naturally handed. >> Man, I really want that to sink in for you listening. you can actively rewrite the code. You aren't permanently broken. Your nervous system is just severely out of practice. So, you know, what does this all mean for you? If we zoom all the way out on today's deep dive, we've gone on quite a journey. >> We really have. >> We started by calling out the false comfort of those online quizzes and diagnostic labels that trick us into thinking we're healing. We learned that the real work is an uncomfortable physiological practice of staying present in the micro moment. >> Noticing that biological urge, >> right? Noticing the urge to run or chase, forcing that 2- second pause, and letting the prefrontal cortex back online. We explored how utilizing structured accessible therapy models like the CHC sandbox we talked about acts as the ultimate safe space for this behavior removing the systemic friction that blocks healing. And it all leads to this incredibly hopeful scientifically backed reality of earned secure attachment. >> It shifts the entire paradigm. You stop asking what is permanently wrong with me and you start asking what micro moment can I practice today? >> Yes. So the next time you feel that sudden physical urge to pull away from someone you care about or that desperate urge to grip them tighter and chase them down, remember that that exact moment of friction isn't proof that you're broken. >> Not at all. >> It isn't the sign that the relationship is doomed. That friction is your personal practice ground. That two-c window is the exact moment the neuroplasticity happens. And as we leave you today, I really want to offer a final thought that builds on that idea from the text about bracing for someone to leave. >> Yeah. >> We spend so much of our lives wearing incredibly heavy psychological armor, calculating the exact moment a relationship will fail so we can protect ourselves from the pain of surprise. >> But what if the absolute most radical, terrifying act of self-preservation isn't preparing for abandonment? What if it's actually leaving the X-ray in the doctor's office, putting on the heavy, itchy cash, dropping your armor, and allowing yourself to be entirely surprised by someone staying? >> Drop the armor. Let them surprise you. Thanks for joining us on this deep dive, everyone. We'll catch you next time.