An Engineer, a Goose, a Dog, and Relationships

At this stage of my life, I am prioritizing relationships after neglecting them “to focus on my career”, and as I embark on this interpersonal exploration, I am starting to uncover a few issues in my approach to relationships that I never knew existed.
An overly nerdy analogy would be hidden bugs in code. Software engineers know that your code might seem flawless until one day a new situation invokes a part of the code that hasn’t been tested before, and suddenly, all kinds of bugs in the programming surface.

Being an engineer, I tend to find solutions for tough problems by dissecting the systems underneath. Relationships are not an exception.
In the past year, I’ve spent countless hours educating myself about psychology, neuroscience, and even philosophy to gain a deeper insight into the workings of the human attachment system.

Every once in a while, my readings lead me to a hidden gem that is eye opening or heartwarming. The true story of a lab goose named Felicity is one of them.
The story is reported by the prominent American psychiatrist Daniel Stern. I highly recommend reading the whole story as published by the Bowlby Centre (named after the father of attachment theory), but if you prefer an audio medium, you can listen to this short Therapists Uncensored podcast from the authors of Secure Relating: Holding Your Own in an Insecure World.

After reading Feli’s story, I couldn’t help but think about a dog that I fostered last summer:
Layla was an extremely anxious dog. The first week she spent at my place, she had a terrified look on her face, and was very careful approaching me. She barked incessantly at everyone and every dog that gets close to her, and scared the heck out of everyone because, for them, she seemed like a big angry dog, not realizing that she was terrified and protecting herself as a result of years of abuse.

At the end of the 4 months she spent with me, Layla was a completely transformed dog. Her separation anxiety was almost gone, she wanted to play all the time, and started to warm up to strangers.
I didn’t do anything special to drive that change in her. All I did is be there for her, and show her that I will still pet her, play with her, and take her on walks even when she makes me mad for pooping on the carpet or jumping on the neighbor’s kid.

Feli’s story is a testament for the power of safe relationships in healing our attachment injuries. Reflecting back on all the relationships I had in the last couple years, each one of them taught me about myself more than the sum of all the books I read. It wasn’t smooth sailing all the time. I was hurt sometimes, and I hurt others, but the insight I gained into myself after each experience makes this whole adventure so worth it.

Onward and Upward!