Why Do We Try to Fix People?
From a recent shoot with model Cairo. They are clutching their legs amongst blooming flowers at an attempt to mimic the isolation that accompanies understanding our attachment styles and patterns in relationships. I made it similar to a diary page, using the cut out magazine letters to exemplify the literal mystery that is our psyche & romantic experiences.
He had said once before that he preferred to leave a relationship before there was ever an opportunity to be left, even if all signs showed safety.
What could be considered a green flag is immediately questioned under the guise of fear that abandonment issues bring. No matter how promising a situation might seem, there’s a wary voice in the forefront of all reflection that gives the gentle and aching reminder — everything the other person has said could be a lie.
So then, the potential for commitment inflames a previously determined perception of danger. When our hearts have been damaged, it’s only natural to worry it could happen again.
The likelihood that things will turn out the same seems high when our experience shows a 100% efficacy rate of failure. Though, I prefer to reframe negative experiences, relishing in the fact that I dared to show up, to begin with. Whether my emotional capacity was wide enough will always be a concern. There is also the reality that not every person we meet will share the same habits as our past counterparts (or they won’t be displayed in the same dated fashion).
Still, the substantial fear persists. No matter the possibility (on either measure) of succeeding at a connection in romantic relationships, analyzing our attachment styles and predisposition to certain traumas can provide clarity in maneuvering conflict.
The inner experience is crucial, but what do we do when it seems our partners provide not only a mirror but a full bottle of glass cleaner with it?
Avoidant tendencies can be concerning without affirmations that follow. The desire to show up for someone and provide a safe space for vulnerability is often threatened by this attachment style — or at least in my misguided experience. Even though my habits are shifting, I’ve often assumed a caretaker role in an attempt to make up for what was missing in my past.
Not only does this remove agency from the other person’s experience but adds a strange pressure for both parties. Not everyone wants the same approach to confronting past experiences, if even at all.
That previous lack of emotional care fuels a codependent pattern to give more attention to a partner than myself — even if it appears I’m independent in other avenues. I have previously been more concerned with their feelings, perception, hopes for the relationship, and never truly deciding what I feel, what I perceive, or what I truly deserve.
In theory, if I focus enough on someone else’s reasoning for fearing romance, I can keep a far enough distance to safeguard my own heart forevermore. The idea of assuming responsibility for another person's strife is rooted in insecurity towards my own experience. In a way, this violates any possibility for genuine emotional connection, domineering roles that should have never had a chance to accumulate.
To the man that provides a stunning reflection of my commitment issues — I’ve gotten quite caught up in wanting to prove myself in some way. Despite not wanting a full-on relationship, I was intent to somehow convince him that I was the exception to the everything-turns-out-like-the-last-time rule. In that misplaced attempt, I followed my far-too-familiar footsteps of self-sabotage and leaned into my habits before either of us could say “wait.”
Each intimate conversation had me piecing together all of the reasons why his actions mismatched his words. My desire to provide a safe space for others had a fault, and it lied within the erroneous assumption that my way of approaching hurt was somehow all-knowing, or that my nature was devoid of incompatibility. And actions mismatching words is a statement in and of itself; one of disregard, lack of care, or respect, and it was not my puzzle to solve.
Part of me feels power in the capability to recognize patterns that I blazed past before, like when I’d run a yellow light, catching a glimpse of red on the way through.
Each of us is adorned in our experiences and we cannot escape the past, no matter how desperately we may try. Attraction to avoidance is only natural in this case, and I don’t view myself as reckless, just doing the best I can with the tools I have available at the time, as the majority of us are.
Standards for relationships and exploring our boundaries are fundamental to preserving deepened human connection. In trying to fix someone else in the past, I realized I’d had none. In regards to this recent connection, I must’ve sprayed the mirror he provided with cleaner and let it sit for a bit too long. In the present, I’d like to impress myself before worrying about what someone else might think, and pay more mind to what’s racing through my head before assuming I’ve got a partner figured out.
When we decide to be emotionally available for others, there's bravery in the process. Previous stories and events can give clues to the reasoning behind our sensitivities or preferences for the ways we deserve to be treated — and no one deserves to be a batting cage for patterns we refuse to confront.
Maybe we try to fix people because we’re running from ourselves, and sometimes it appears easier to run into the arms of another wounded soul. Luckily, we can see through the deception of the trick, and move forward with hindsight in tow.