- When life brings you up, how can you bounce back?
When you experience rejection and heartbreak,
failure and loss, pain and suffering,
from where can you find renewed strength?
How can you heal the wounds in order to soldier on?
I'm Jonathan Decker, licensed therapist,
and today we're going to dive into
what it means to have a secure base
as defined by attachment theory,
and how that secure base can restore
and refresh you when you need it most.
(upbeat music)
Here at Mended Light,
we know that life can be brutal.
Sometimes your hands hang low
and your head droops down in sorrow.
You may feel like the light you once possessed
to share with the world is going out.
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Have you ever watched a boxing match?
Now, I'm not crazy about real life violence,
but I respect the sport and the athletes.
The amount of willpower, dedication,
and strength to endure is inspiring,
but I'm also sure it's exhausting in that ring.
It can be disappointing to hear the crowd chant
the other person's name,
frightening to face the pain that's coming,
stressful to worry if you have what it takes to survive,
to stand, to win, to keep going.
Boxers can say the challenge ahead of them
because it's not one nonstop match.
It's broken up into rounds lasting several minutes.
In between the rounds they go to their corner.
They're hydrating, getting patched up, resting,
and receiving inspiring words
and advice from their trainers.
This is where the phrase having someone in your corner
or I'm in your corner comes from.
Now, you say that's all fine and well for boxers,
but what does this mean for me and for my hardships?
Well, I want to tell you about John Bowlby's concept
of a secure base.
What it means for children and adults,
and how you can build one in your life.
When I was in college, I fell in love with a young woman.
I was absolutely crazy about her.
We started as friends,
but what I felt for her was immediate.
I was just kinda waiting for her to catch up,
so I tried to play it cool,
hoping that as I treated her with goodness and decency
that she would fall for me.
Now, I always respected her ability
to make her own decision.
I didn't believe I was entitled to her heart,
but I hoped for it so badly.
I was young in my early twenties.
My parents were happily married, and from childhood,
I wanted nothing more than to follow in their footsteps,
find my soulmate and raise a family.
I fantasized about that becoming my reality
with this young woman.
As we became closer friends,
the whole thing transcended mere romance or attraction.
I genuinely wanted to build a life with her
and do everything I could to bring her happiness.
So, of course,
I was elated when she started to feel the same way,
and we became more than friends.
Dating her was amazing.
I'd never felt like this before.
So seen, so understood, so appreciated.
In many ways, it was my first real experience
with companionate love,
something deeper than adolescent infatuation.
Still, I struggled with the nagging feeling
and later confirmation that I was more on board
with this relationship than she was.
I was all in while she had doubts.
I lived to win her heart.
I prayed for it, I worked for it, and it didn't happen.
With respect and genuine affection, she broke up with me.
Now, I had hoped to marry her.
On the one hand, I was mature enough to let her go.
I was always going to honor her choice,
and I knew I wanted to be with someone who wanted me
as much as I wanted them.
On the other hand, it was devastating.
The sense of loss of dashed hopes
and of despair was more intense
than anything I'd ever experienced to that point.
It was like color had left my world.
Things that I used to enjoy lost their pleasure.
Going to classes was a slow, painful nightmare.
I struggled to focus on my work.
My friendships didn't bring me much joy.
The day that I finally accepted it was the worst of all.
Until then, I still had some hope
she'd realize that she wanted me.
There was a little light shining through,
but when that light went out,
I instinctively knew exactly what I needed to do.
I went home.
I was studying in Utah.
Home was an Arizona, 12 hours away.
It was a Friday and I had class on Monday,
and it didn't make any sort of sense
to drive 12 hours on Friday,
stay on Saturday, and turn around and drive right back
another 12 hours on Sunday.
But that's what I did.
Like I was following a homing beacon.
My parents were there, my siblings,
friends and neighbors, my favorite restaurants,
the playground at my elementary school,
the movie theater of my adolescents,
the house of worship I had gone to every Sunday,
the home I was raised in,
the sights, the sounds, the smells.
I went home.
I only had one full day there.
I hugged my parents, I talked to them.
I ate the best pizza and Mexican food.
I visited with friends,
I walked the streets and the places of my youth.
Literally, just got in my car and went from place to place,
and I returned.
If not fully healed,
then definitely patched up, refreshed and strong again.
I was gonna be okay.
British Psychoanalyst, John Bowlby,
described a secure base as part of a child's development
where they feel safe to venture away from their parent
or caregiver because they know that they can come back.
Trying new things, experiencing new places,
meeting new people, all of it doesn't feel so scary
because of the connection that will always be there.
We often think of a secure base or a home base place,
and it can be, but more often it's a person or people.
It's a connection to a higher power,
it's confidence that comes from knowing and loving yourself.
Form a long time, Arizona was my secure base.
I didn't realize just how much
of that was because my mom was there.
One year after the breakup that sent me home,
my mother other died.
I was still in college.
My father and my siblings and I,
clung to each other like life preservers.
And I clung to my higher power.
All of that helped me to survive it, but it was hard.
To this day,
losing my mom is the hardest thing I've ever gone through.
Before I tell you what happened next,
I know some of you are mourning a loss.
It's anguish.
When you finish this video,
I want to point you to another one, How to Cope With Loss,
where I walk you through the grieving process
so you can heal.
Now, in the years since my mom died,
I'm sad to say that Arizona is no longer my secure base.
Don't get me wrong, I love Arizona.
While it will always mean so much to me
as the place where I came from,
it no longer feels like home.
I'm close with my dad and my siblings.
I still love the people there.
The same places, the same restaurants,
but my secure base is with Alicia and our children.
We've been to Europe and Asia, Latin America,
and all over the United States, home is wherever they are.
My secure base is them.
When I'm getting pounded in the boxing ring,
they patch up my hurt.
They refresh me.
They give me rest, and give me encouragement and counsel.
They're in my corner, and I'm in theirs.
You may not have family, or if you do,
they may not be your secure base.
As hard as that is, you can still create one.
Connection to something greater than yourself,
connections with friends,
because friends can be your chosen family.
Great works of art and literature,
inspiring and helpful articles and YouTube channels,
your own self care, therapy group,
sessions with your counselor,
all of these can help you to recharge, to heal,
to redirect and refresh.
If you don't create that secure base for yourself,
life is going to knock you out time and again.
With a secure base, you can emerge a champion.
Now, I wanna hear from you down below in the comments,
what or who is your secure base or bases,
or what can they be?
Or, if you have a question for us
about forming a secure base,
let us know in the comments below,
and we'll happily address them.
If you found this video helpful,
I'd like to invite you to watch the next one right here.
And don't forget to subscribe
and click the bell so that you never miss a video.
One last piece of advice.
If you don't know where to turn, we're here for you.
Let us help you, reach out to us.
Here at Mended Light,
we're invested in helping you heal yourself
so that your light can shine to the world,
so that you can be the happiest, best version of you.
I'm Jonathan Decker, licensed therapist,
and I'll see you next time.
(upbeat music)