The truth about Attachment Theory

The truth about attachment theory is that it’s widely misinterpreted, and often misunderstood.

I’m not claiming to be an expert by any means, but I do have a reasonably solid professional background in this area, as well as having taught developmental psychology at A level (in a qualified sort of way, not just in a rocking up and deciding to impart some wisdom, Jack-Black-in-School-of-Rock sort of way). I recently attended a course where they touched on attachment (fairly inaccurately), which got me thinking that although this is a fairly ‘hot topic’ as far as parenting is concerned, a lot of people don’t really understand the bare bones of it.

So, here’s my interpretation of attachment theory.

In the 1960s, the general belief about attachment was that it was an all-or-nothing process, but current thinking (backed up by a lot of research) supports the idea that it’s much more complicated than that. A child will almost certainly form an attachment to their primary caregiver, virtually regardless of whether they actually meet their needs or not; the type and quality of attachment that is formed however, can vary.

Attachment – in psychological terms – refers to the relationship that a child has with a caregiver, or significant adult. (The relationship that an adult has with a child is a separate thing and is often refered to in psychological terms as ‘bonding’.) Attachment describes a very basic relationship, where a vulnerable individual relies completely on another person to get their needs met (and in order to survive), and the expectations they have of that person actually being able to meet their needs.

Just to make a point here – we’re not talking about love. Attachment and love are two utterly separate things. It is possible, and in fact fairly common, to have a poor quality attachment with a significant adult and to love them enormously at the same time.

You might have heard people talking about different attachment styles, but in order to gain a proper understanding of their relevance I think it’s worth exploring how the idea was formed.

In the late 60s and early 70s a psychologist called Mary Ainsworth was doing a lot of work on attachment. She is most famous for a study known as the Strange Situation experiment. It’s important to note that this is an observational study – Ainsworth wasn’t trying to create particular behaviours, she was merely observing what she saw. She didn’t ‘invent’ attachment styles, she just gave a name to particular groups of behaviours that children were already exhibiting.

If you’re interested in the details of the study click here for an overview. Basically, Ainsworth observed children and their mother together, sometimes altering the environment slightly by having a stranger enter the room, or having the mother leave for a couple of minutes during the observation. She noticed quite distinct patterns of behaviour in the children as these changes occurred, and initially grouped these in to three categories, or styles of attachment (although a fourth was added after later experiments).

The most common type of attachment by far was a secure attachment. These children tended to use their mother as a secure base to explore the new environment, were wary of the stranger, but friendly enough when their mother was there to back them up. They were distressed when the mother left, and happy when she came back. When upset, they were easily consolable by their mothers.

Around 30% of the children in the initial study didn’t display the type of behaviour described above. These children were described as having an insecure attachment, and could be further split in to two groups; avoidant and ambivalent. Children who were classed as avoidant tended not to orient around their mothers at all, and were equally as happy being comforted by the stranger as their mother. They weren’t that bothered when their mother left the room, or that interested when she returned. Children who were classed as ambivalent tended to be varyingly clingy with their mothers, but not wanting to actually engage in anything with them. They were less likely to explore their surroundings, were fearful of the stranger, and much more likely to cry.

Ainsworth suggested that these attachment behaviours were influenced by the day-to-day behaviour of the primary carer, in this case the mother. Children whose mothers consistently responded to their needs were likely to develop a secure attachment; those whose mothers were generally hit-and-miss, or completely unresponsive, developed insecure attachments. (Be aware I’m just talking about mothers here because that was who Ainsworth studied. More on this later…) Ainsworth later found a fourth attachment style, which she called ‘disorganized’, to describe the behaviour of children who didn’t seem to have one consistent style of behaviour.

I want to reinforce here that 70% of the children in the initial study were categorized as having a secure attachment, so when we’re talking about consistently meeting needs, we’re talking in a realistic sense, recognising that no-one’s perfect – children certainly don’t need us to be in order to develop a healthy attachment.

So that’s the background, but here’s some things I’d like to pull out from all this and have a chew over.

It is perfectly possible to have a different type of attachment to different people in your life. An attachment refers to a specific relationship that one child has with one caregiver, and you shouldn’t assume that this child will always form this type of attachment. For example, when mulling all this over prior to teaching my A level class, I concluded that I had a secure attachment to my mum as a child, but an insecure one to my dad.

However, there is also evidence to show that we are likely to form attachments with other people based on the patterns we learnt in early childhood. Therefore, you can extrapolate that as I had an insecure attachment to my dad, I’m likely to seek out adult relationships with men which replicate that pattern. For me this turned out to be completely true – until I realised I was doing it! (From personal experience I can say it doesn’t always have to be that way, but it took a pretty big emotional committment to make the change.)

It is completely useless to describe a child as having ‘an insecure attachment style’ – they don’t have a ‘style’, they are behaving in a particular way because of how they expect adults to behave, based on their past experiences. However, it *is* useful to understand what those behaviour patterns suggest about their previous level of care, so that you can then work out what are the areas in which they are likely to need the most support. If I’m working with a child who is displaying avoidant-type behaviours, then I can make an educated guess that they aren’t used to having their needs met consistently, and are not going to want to get close to anyone in case they are let down. In this case, this knowledge prepares me for the fact that it may take a long time and a lot of consistency from me to persuade that child that our relationship can be different. Children are remarkably resilient, and will develop many ways of coping with whatever life throws at them – unfortunately their coping strategies are not always useful to them if they are then taken in to an environment that is supportive and nurturing. (But perhaps that’s another blog post…!)

In conclusion, attachment is a fascinating subject for anyone interested in relationships, parenting, or working with vulnerable children. However it’s really important to remember that we are all individuals, and although we can learn a lot through research and studying behaviour, when it comes down to it, the most important thing you can do is learn from the individual who you are trying to connect with.

This is a pet subject of mine, so I don’t expect this will be the last blog post I’ll ever write about it – any comments, suggestions, or requests please do let me know!

Cat x


Taking the leap

This blog post started out called ‘Why you shouldn’t have to get a proper job’. It was going to be about working for yourself, how it’s ok if you feel stifled by the 9-5, and how we are funnelled from school in to work without necessarily realising that there’s another option. However, as I wrote it I realised it was taking another direction. I expect I’ll still write the original post at some point, but today it turns out there’s a little bit of my personal story that wants to come out…

I recently had reason to compile an employment history, going back ten years. After quite a lot of effort, I ended up with a list of seventeen different places I had worked during that time – and I’m not convinced that I got all of them! It might be fair to assume that I was temping, or that these were fairly unskilled, disposable sort of jobs. Perhaps I was no good and kept getting fired? And where is my career progression?

The truth is, I don’t have what most people would term a ‘proper job’. I have had them in the past; the seventeen I managed to list included teaching A levels, working as a research associate at a university, and mentoring vulnerable young people.

But here’s what it boils down to – the ‘normal’ sorts of jobs that I had been conditioned to aspire to just don’t suit me. Although I have almost always enjoyed the day-to-day work, I so often felt restricted, or like I couldn’t quite do what I wanted to with the role, or make it as good as I thought it could be. I got bored with doing the same stuff, day in day out, and could never spend more than a couple of years in a job before I started to feel stale. And really – I don’t like spending my time fulfilling someone else’s agenda.

Accepting that doing this sort of job was not working out for me was a challenge, and came along with a lot of guilt and uncertainty. ‘Get a proper job’ had been so ingrained in to my life plan from an early age I almost felt like I’d failed, or like there was something wrong with me because I felt so uncomfortable doing it. I spent a number of years working freelance on the side, trying to build up experience and contacts so I could ‘one day’ leave work and do what I actually wanted to do. Of course, I had to put my ‘real job’ first, so I was never able to spare enough time to get my own stuff to a stage where it was much more than a hobby.

Then ‘one day’, I just decided to do it. I had been working a few short-term contracts which were coming to an end, and I quite simply decided not to try and get them renewed, and not to look for anything else. It was wonderfully liberating, and utterly terrifying.

In case you are reading this assuming that I must have had a nice financial cushion to support me making this leap let me set the scene: I was a single mum, living in a flat on the outskirts of Oxford. I had a few thousand pounds in savings, which I’d managed to scrape together by working about five different jobs. I was on tax credits and housing benefit.

Looking back, I have no idea how I had the courage to take the leap. In actual fact I don’t remember that time of my life very clearly – I was living moment to moment just trying to get by, skirting round the edge of depression, and just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. I was often up working until the early hours of the morning, as well as in any snatched moment that I could, just to make sure I fulfilled my contracted hours. Most weeks I would drop my daughter off at ballet on a Monday afternoon, and then sit on the floor in the entrance hall studying, making notes, or planning things for the next day – I couldn’t even justify taking time out for that half an hour. I wasn’t really living, just existing.

Naturally, my daughter suffered too. I was so exhausted from work I barely had the energy to play with her, not to mention the fact that it was hard to be truly in the moment with her while my mind wandered off to the huge pile of work that awaited as soon as she was in bed.

Giving up work was a massive leap of faith – I had no idea what was going to happen, or how I was going to survive. I had a bit of work lined up, and I had taken over the running of a local festival (on a voluntary basis) so my vague plan was to build that to the point where it provided me with a living. How I was going to do that, I didn’t have a clue, but I knew that I *had* to make it work.

It’s now nearly three years since I gave up employment, and I can honestly say that I’ve not regretted it for a second. I still work as hard as ever, and there are still times when it’s stressful and I feel like I’m being pulled in twenty different directions. However the single biggest difference is that I have total control over what I do and don’t do. If I don’t like the ethos of an individual or an organisation, I don’t work with them. I decide how much I’m worth paying, and charge my clients accordingly. I structure my working day to fit around my daughter so I pick her up from school every day – and when I take her to ballet I take a trashy novel to read!

So here’s what I would like to say to you today: so many people will tell you to face your fears, take the leap, push yourself, make that huge decision. For me, it wasn’t like that at all – it was simply realising that I was worth more than the life I had created for myself. I deserved better; my daughter deserved better. Taking the leap wasn’t a huge catastrophic thing, it was like a sigh of relief and a gift to myself all rolled in to one – albeit quite a scary one!

I was going to write that something about knowing I was going to make it work because I had no other option, but that’s not quite true; as a qualified teacher I always knew I had that to fall back on, if I got really desperate. To be honest, I could have got a job in Tesco if I got really desperate. The truth is I gave myself no other option, because I simply could not bear to let myself live that way again.

So, over to you. Is that vague feeling of unsatisfaction enough for you to make a change in your life? How bad will it need to get before you do something about it? Be honest with yourself – you may not be as miserable as I was, but are you worth more than the life you are living at the moment?

If so, I urge you to take the leap. You may just surprise yourself.

Cat x

The Value of Compassion

I read a really interesting article this morning on the value of compassion; it is a great read if you’re in to psychological research, but for those of us who like to get straight to the point, I’ve pulled out what I think are the most interesting bits:

Compassion is defined by the author as “the emotional response when perceiving suffering” and as involving “an authentic desire to help”. It’s different from empathy (experiencing someone else’s feelings) and altruism (doing something to benefit someone else) because of the active desire to help others, triggered by the emotional reaction to their suffering.

There’s a lot of evidence to support the idea that compassion is an innate behaviour – that is, one that occurs naturally, rather than having to be learned. Scientists have studied chimpanzees, rats, and human babies and found evidence of compassionate behaviour in all of them. Most people will be familiar with the phrase ‘survival of the fittest’, but here the article explains how the work of Charles Darwin might be more accurately described as ‘survival of the kindest’; compassion is a trait that is absolutely necessary for the survival of the human race.

As well as the obvious benefit of maintaining the existence of the the human race, compassion also has huge benefits for the wellbeing of individuals. The article describes a number of studies which show that the act of giving to others makes us feel better than receiving for ourselves. Amazingly, this even affects us on a biological level. The cells in our body often become inflamed under stress, which is something believed to be at the root of cancer and other diseases. You would expect that people who describe themselves as happy would have less stress, and therefore less cell inflammation. However, one study found that this was only true for people who lived a life of “purpose or meaning” (i.e. helping others), and that people who described themselves as happy but lived a fairly selfish life still had high levels of inflammation in their cells. And if that’s not enough to convince you – it’s generally accepted that if you’ve got high stress levels you’re going to die younger, yes? Well, not if you help people, according to another study quoted in this article. It seems that compassionate behaviour actually helps the counteract the results of stress in our bodies. Yet another study even found that people who volunteer live longer than those who don’t.

Anyone who has experienced the feelings of pleasure gained from helping someone in need will know how compassion can affect your mental health. The article speculates that this may also link to increased social connections, known to be a significant benefit to wellbeing. In fact, one study indicates that lack of social connection is a greater detriment to health than obesity, smoking, and high blood pressure. (Although possibly not if you’re doing all three at once..!) I think I might choose to interpret this as an excellent excuse to spend more time on Facebook..! 😉

So if you’re looking for ways to improve your life you could do worse than cultivating some compassion! I often think the world would be a much better place if we all followed the basic premise of ‘be nice to people’ – now it turns out that it’s actually good for our own physical and mental health as well!

You can get regular updates on the science of wellbeing by subscribing via the website of Emma Seppala, who wrote the original article. Or you could keep coming back here and let me put it in to bite-size chunks for you!

Happy weekend 🙂

Cat x