Blog for
Chris Lauzon - Therapist, LICSW

Anxious attachment often changes that experience. Instead of walking the road, we find ourselves standing still, scanning the horizon for danger. We wait, and while we wait, we carry the weight. Many folks carry this weight daily, without realizing how heavy it has become. In healthy relationships, trust allows us to place our feet firmly on the country road ahead. We move forward knowing that uncertainty exists, but we continue anyway.

When we think about a healthy relationship, many of us picture closeness: shared time, shared experiences, shared goals. Partnership certainly includes those things, yet one of the most important ingredients of a truly healthy relationship is something that may seem counterintuitive at first; individual growth.

It’s rarely spoken that plainly, of course. More often it arrives dressed differently, polished, casual, or defensive: “You’re in a bad mood.” “You’re overreacting.” “You’re taking that too personally.” “You’re being difficult.” “You’re always such a downer.” These statements show up everywhere, not just in romantic partnerships, but among friends, family members, colleagues, and even passing acquaintances. They often land as conclusions rather than invitations.

When a relationship ends whether you made the decision or the choice was made for you, you’re often left standing in the quiet aftermath, surrounded by emotions that feel heavy, tangled, and confusing. Grief. Loss. Sadness. Anxiety. Fear. Anger. Shame. Guilt. Not everyone experiences all of these, but most folks experience some combination, and when they do, it can feel as though they’ve been placed inside a box: a confined emotional space where movement feels restricted and

I’ve long held the opinion that when someone adds, “just kidding” or “just joking” after a comment, there is often some percentage of truth tucked within it. Not always, of course sometimes humor is just humor, play is just play. But many times, I’d estimate there’s about 40% truth living behind the curtain of the joke. Humor can be a safe doorway, a way to say something honest without risking full vulnerability. But it can also be a mask that bruises others.

When a relationship ends, or even when we begin to fear that it might we can find ourselves in a deeply emotional space that feels startlingly similar to the grief of losing a loved one to death. It is a death in its own right: the death of shared moments, of intimacy, of dreams once nurtured together.