Emotionally (i)mature parents and your brain

-5min Reading time-

I used to think I had a "happy" childhood.

Well, at least based on modern society's concept of happiness: my parents were alive, I had food, a roof over my head, and the best education. I had everything I needed and more (materially speaking). I could choose multiple presents on my birthday, Santa Claus was always there, and I even got a trip to Disney World on my 15th birthday. What else could a child need?

The problem of not understanding the invisible dynamics of life is that we measure our life experience based on the wrong things. And then we're faced with a problem:

On the "success meter," everything looks great, but still, there's something inside us that feels off. So, we are naturally led to this conclusion: If I have everything that “society” tells me I need to be happy, and something still doesn't feel right, then I must be the problem.

In the last issue, I briefly mentioned that if we weren't raised by emotionally mature parents (or caregivers), it's very likely that we have work to do to heal our emotional wounds, and therefore update our “system” to our grown-up version.

But what does “emotionally mature parents” mean after all?

Attunement

Attunement is when parents (or any individual) can be emotionally present in a way that makes the child feel understood, accepted, and mirrored. They know how to hold space for their own emotions and for those of others.

“Attunement is the real language of love, the conduit by which a preverbal child can realize they are loved.” Gabor Maté (2008)

The "Still Face Experiment" is part of research in psychology that shows the direct relationship between parent attunement and child behavior. You'll have no doubt about what attunement is after you watch it. It's a 2.5-minute video. Please watch it, it's mind-blowing.

The video demonstrates that when the mother is attuned (present) and connected to the baby, the baby remains calm, stable, and happy. When the mother ceases to mirror this connection and becomes emotionless, the infant becomes distressed, reacting with negative emotions, and then tries everything in their power to regain the mother's attention. The moment the mother attunes back to the baby, the infant can finally relax, feeling safe.

A child is not an adult

In daily life, it's common to hear some parents say, "Oh, the kid just wants attention," as if it's not a big deal, or as if it's okay to leave the child crying unattended, or other versions of that. But what they don't understand is the same thing that my parents didn't: a child's brain and nervous system are not the same as an adult's. Children experience the world in a completely different way.

"For a baby, being left in a cold room can feel like a life-threatening experience. For a little child, it can be a scary experience. For a 10-year-old child, it can be disturbing, and for an adolescent or an adult, it can feel a bit uncomfortable," explains Peter Levine (1997).

Children don't have the neurobiological resources to regulate themselves. They need the attuned presence of an adult to help them feel safe in the world and in their bodies. This is a reminder that a child's behavior is a reflection of the environment in which they are.

Kids also pick up on subtle dynamics and repressed emotions of the parents, and they reflect that in how they relate to themselves, the world, and how it shows up in their behavior. Whatever dynamic or emotion an adult doesn't deal with, a child will pick it up and internalize it.

"As a rule, whatever we don't deal with in our lives, we pass on to our children. Our unfinished emotional business becomes theirs," says Dr. Gabor Maté (also a great way to explain generational trauma from my perspective).

My parents gave me everything they could, and they loved me very much to the extent they were able to. But to some degree, they didn't provide what I needed: attunement, presence, and emotional safety.

Attunement matters because when we are accurately seen and understood by our caregivers, we find a secure sense of self and an inherent understanding of our own worth.

So, am I bad?

Because we rely on our caregivers for survival as infants, we will never, ever, assume that they have done something wrong to us. If we conclude that our parents are "bad," it directly threatens our perceived ability to survive in the world.

So, as a survival mechanism, whenever we are not held, whenever we don't get the attunement we need, or when we experience pain through some kind of punishment, our limbic brain works the other way around: it decides that if our parents can't be “bad”, therefore, I, must be bad, generating deep shame in our bodies and solidifying the beliefs that come with it.

(Note: Shame, anger, fear, and sadness, as well as other positive emotions, are not THOUGHTS, they are STATES, and they occur in our bodies. That's why much of what we carry within us is considered unconscious. It's not in our frontal cortex (logic), it's in our limbic brain (emotional). It occurs as a bodily experience, not as a thought.)

The child is always reading the environment and trying to understand “what does it say about me?". From a child perspective, she is the center of the world and everything that happens is about her.

In the last issue, I mentioned that one of the ingrained negative beliefs I had to work to change was that "I was unlovable". Of course, logically, I wouldn't think or say that about myself. But this was the unconscious programming underpinning how I related in close relationships.

How that came to be?

My mom cared for everyone in the house, but the one person she didn't care for was herself. Trauma and mental health weren't words really used in her generation. She was hurt but lived most of her life as if "it was all good." As a result, her emotional world and her ability to provide attunement suffered.

She had this constant alertness and worry. It felt as though most of the time, she was preoccupied with something else, or that she was somewhere else in her head. Her emotions were up and down. When they were up, it was great. When they were down, two potential scenarios occurred: 1. If she was in an angry mood, she would shout at us or hit us with whatever she could find around her. 2. If she was in a sad mood, she would lock herself in her room.

Many times as a child, when I needed her presence or for her to acknowledge my emotions, she was locked by herself in the bedroom. A physical door separated us. At times, when I attempted to discuss my problems with her, it was not unusual for her to become more worried or stressed than I was, leading to increased anxiety instead of calmness. I would become increasingly anxious. Unaware of her own pain and emotions, she would accuse me of having hurt her, labeling me as egotistical, and resorting to emotional manipulation.

What my limbic brain learned from growing up with these repetitive experiences was:

• If she is closing the door and separating herself from me, it must be because "I'm hard to love" (child's perspective), not because she is having a hard time and needs some space for herself (adult's perspective).

• If she becomes worried and stressed when I approach her, it might be because "I'm too much" (child's perspective), not because she is dysregulated and I should seek a different person (adult's perspective).

• If she says that I'm egotistic, that I hurt her with my words and behaviors, even after I apologize, it must be because "I'm a bad kid" (child's perspective). It's not because she has no self-awareness and she emotionally blackmails me, therefore I should ignore it (adult's perspective).

The ups and downs of her emotional state heightened my alertness. Since I never knew what was coming, my coping mechanism as I grew older was to maintain constant vigilance and attentiveness to the emotional states of others. This allowed me to make predictions and behave accordingly to feel “safe”.

Having experienced this dynamic led me to struggle with opening up in romantic relationships. My limbic brain had registered that "I was hard to love." So, my emotional system was built to think that the moment someone really knows all of me, they would leave (a.k.a. they would close the door and separate from me).

Growing up, I constantly felt that I was the emotional adult in the house. As a coping mechanism, I developed a somewhat stoic demeanor (a.k.a. disconnected). Often, my parents would rely on me to discuss their emotions, insecurities, and even ask for advice on what to do. I was just a kid.

In essence, I was always the emotional rock of others, but I had no one to be the emotional rock for me, an adult to whom I could fully open up and trust that I would be seen and understood as a child. The adults around me were mostly reactive, rather than responsive. Over time, this emotionally unhealthy environment taught me that I could only rely on myself to deal with my own issues, and I struggled to ask for help and depend on others.

The bright side of it

The bright side of it is that we can create new and more positive connections that bring us back the perception and the power of who we really are. I tell you from experience.

Once we start progressing in this path, some interesting things starts to happen such as:

1. We begin to develop a lot of compassion for ourselves and others. A significant part of the healing process is learning to cultivate compassion for ourselves. Instead of self-blame, self-punishment, guilt, and shame, we start to develop understanding, care, and compassion for what our inner child experienced. The compassion we have towards ourselves is reflected in how we view others. We learn to see beyond others’ behaviours and we are able to see their pain too.

2. This leads us to not take things so personally. Therefore, we suffer less, because we understand that many things are not about us. We have the chance to redefine the past and live more in the present.

3. From our wounds are born our precious gifts to the world. I know that one of the things that makes me really good at my work, and helps me cultivate meaningful relationships, is my ability to see through people, beyond what they present to the world. I learned how to see others because I didn't feel seen. And now, I know that I can use my gifts for the benefit of others.

I had to unlearn all the things I thought were true and then learn as an adult what my parents couldn't teach me as a child: nervous system regulation, emotional awareness, communication, self-knowledge, and conflict resolution.

But I'm not doing it alone.

Remember how our brain is shaped by the environment we're in and the input we receive from those around us? That's also how we rewire our brain and build new connections.

I had the guidance of my amazing therapist, on how to really know myself, and on how to actively challenge my primary beliefs, and create new ones more accurate with the reality of who I truly am.

It was also through a romantic relationship that I had the best environment to put all of it into practice and grow into myself, boosting my deconditioning process. Some factors that contributed to it were: He showed a lot of patience and consistency in his intentions and actions from day one, which slowly built up space for me to trust him. For the most part, our communication was open and clear. We held space for each other's emotions, and I received reassurance when I needed it, which made me feel safe and put in practice what I was learning.

I also reassessed my friendships at the time, and I started choosing to be in social circles that were more aligned with my intentions and that reinforced the positive new connections in my brain. I learned to protect my energy and to make better choices for myself.

It's in relationship with others and in community that we learn about our needs, our limits, gifts, and boundaries. We are social interdependent beings, that's how our brain is wired.

I still get triggered in some situations, but the difference now is the awareness I have about it. I understand what it really means: it's not about the present moment, but a reaction to the past. I can create space between my feelings and my response, choose what to do with what I feel, and communicate. Ouff, that's huge.

It's not always perfect, but it's better than it ever was.

___

In the next issue, I want to try talk about how it looks like in practice to challenge our beliefs - and the practical process of rewiring our brain.

Note: If you're interested in learning more about child development, attunement, the impacts of trauma, and how to transform it, I recommend the book "The Myth of Normal" by Gabor Maté. It's a large book, but it's not necessary to read it cover to cover; each chapter is a delight of wisdom in itself, and you can read it at your own pace and curiosity.

With love,

Nat

P.S.: If you have any thoughts, questions, or just feel like sharing your experience, please do! The point of all this is to create conversations that allow us to grow together. <3