CHAPTER 8

Relationships: Sustaining Intimacy and Trust

If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.

—African Proverb

The most famous little leaguer is a remarkable girl named Mo’ne Davis. She pitched in the Little League World Series—the first ever to pitch a no-hitter—and her athletic performance, poise, and humility earned her national media attention. Being 13, female, African-American, and from a low-income family added to her recognition. She was on the cover of Sports Illustrated, made the rounds on all the nighttime talk shows, and threw a perfect strike at a Dodger’s game. This talented athlete became a role model for young girls throughout the country, due not only to her incredible skills on the field, but to her admirable character as well. A gifted child, you might say—and you would be right. But a closer look reveals a more complex story. Just where did those gifts come from?

There was a man, watching from the stands, when she pitched the no-hitter. He commented to Frank Bruni, editorial writer for the New York Times, that day: “What haunts me is that for every success we have, there are probably one hundred other kids who could be successes, but never had the opportunity. I hope this opened people’s eyes. Kids given a chance will excel, whatever their economic background, whatever their race.”¹ The man, Frank Bruni, was talking to Steve Bandura, Mo’ne’s coach. Like all successful athletes of any age, race, or background, Mo’ne received the right kind of support when it was needed most. In her case, a big part of this came from Bandura. He had mentored her, helped her to believe in herself, and gave her the confidence and guidance to achieve extraordinary results.

Bandura did not do this just for Mo’ne, but for hundreds of children from the poorest neighborhoods of Philadelphia across decades. With no salary or funding, he established a little league for children ages five to eight, eventually expanding the age range and putting together a traveling team called the Monarchs. Mo’ne was one of those Monarchs. She and countless other children were recipients of Steve Bandura’s gifts of support. Bandura taught his players about much more than baseball. He instructed them in manners and courtesy, teaching them how to effectively connect with others. He educated them in the history of the civil rights movement and, when his team was traveling, he took them to the Negro League Baseball Museum in Kansas City and to the grave-side of Jackie Robinson and his players were required to write a report on Jackie Robinson and the story of All-Black Baseball. From this, they learned that role models can provide silent guidance and support when we are reaching for success as well.

I have scoured the Internet and could find almost no reference to Coach Bandura’s amazing work, other than the beautiful article by Frank Bruni entitled “Black, White, and Baseball.” It is not unusual, however, to find that those in the background, those who provide the backbone for success, are often spared the limelight. However, the recipient of his gifts is indeed a star. Mo’ne Davis became a powerful figure in the media, a success both on and off the field. Mo’ne was a role model with incredible athletic skills and a winning personality who also possessed the essential skills for success: she was willing to reach for support, accept help, and had the courage to allow this remarkable coach to nurture and guide her gifts. For any of us, it is this sort of attitude and the response of support that allows us to thrive in any area of life.

You may wonder why I have waited until now to address success in relationships, here near the end of our journey together. It is because, in the end, relationships are what every other chapter has been about. To address fear in the way we human beings are biologically designed to address it effectively, relationships are required. To reach for and receive the necessary support to achieve great things in any area of life—be it work, health, family, romance, even sports—relationships are required. Let’s begin, then, to explore our relationships by tracing them back to their start, to our parents and earliest care providers—our first coaches.

Robert Frost once said, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” For some, home and family has always been a blessing, a place that you have been able to take for granted. In good times or bad, no matter what mistakes you’ve made or what tragedy card life may have dealt you, you knew that loving parents or family would be there for you. For others, this concept is an abstraction. You may feel that you are on your own, or that even if your parents are alive and well, they likely would not be your best choice for support.

Food, shelter, water, clothing—these “survival basics” are necessary in childhood, but they are not all that a child needs in order to thrive. The power of supportive relationships in reducing fear and quieting a child’s alarm system has been demonstrated repeatedly in research. Consider, for example, the “Strange Situation Studies” developed by Mary Ainsworth.² In Ainsworth’s original study, mothers and their 9- to 12-month-old infants were observed in natural interactions at home across several visits for a total of 72 hours prior to participating in a laboratory study. During each study episode in the lab, the mother was initially in the room with her child, along with another adult who was a stranger to the child. The mother was then instructed to leave the room while the stranger remained. When the mothers re-entered the room, some children rushed to them to be comforted and their distress from the separation quickly resolved. Ainsworth described these children as “securely attached.” Other children hurried to their returning mothers, but they were hard to console, arching their backs away from their mothers, seemingly angry and frightened. These children she labeled “ambivalent-insecure.” The third type of child appeared indifferent both when mother left the room and indifferent when she returned. This group she called “avoidant-insecure.”

Most interesting to note when reviewing the findings was the very high correlation between the parenting styles observed at home during that first year and the children’s subsequent behavior in the lab. Initially, some investigators argued that the avoidant children had simply learned to be more independent at a younger age, suggesting that this might actually be a desirable trait. However, later studies concluded that the avoidant children, although appearing indifferent at a surface level, had higher levels of the “stress” hormone cortisol in their bloodstreams. This suggests that they experienced more fear than those securely attached.

In a follow-up study, Dr. Mary Main exposed each of the three types of children to a scary situation (for example, mildly stressful events such as a live clown, a robot clown, and a puppet show). Their mothers were present, but they were asked not to provide comfort for the first three minutes. During the second three minutes, they were asked to comfort their children. The children who had been identified as securely attached, although appearing just as frightened as the ambivalent and avoidant groups, were the only ones who evidenced no increase in cortisol levels. In a similar study, cortisol levels were measured in 60 children about to get vaccinations. Once again, although all children reached for their parents in fear, the securely attached children were the only ones to have no increase in stress hormone levels. In both cases, as Dr. Megan Gunnar of the Institute of Child Development at the University of Minnesota described it: “The secure children seemed to be saying, ‘This is scary but I feel safe.’ They had the resources to cope.”³

Research also demonstrates the importance of healthy relationships in childhood as a predictor of healthy relationships in adulthood. This can be clearly seen in the outcomes of the “Berkeley Longitudinal Study,” in which Dr. Main selected infant-parent pairs from the Strange Situation studies and proceeded to follow them across the length of a generation. Each child once again experienced the Strange Situation scenario at age 6, and each of these 6-year-olds was given a Separation Anxiety Test (SAT) in which their response to pictures of children being separated from their parents was observed. Additionally, each parent participated in an Adult Attachment Interview (AAI). The correlations discovered were eye-opening. The 6-year-olds’ responses to the Strange Situation correlated strongly with their responses as infants; the 6-year-olds’ responses to the SAT produced the same results and percentages; and the parents responses on the AAI correlated highly with how their own children had behaved as infants. Most astounding, however, was the fact that when the infants reached age 19 and participated in an Adult Attachment Interview as well, the responses of these now young adults correlated precisely to their behavior in both of the Strange Situations scenarios and to their parents AAI responses! According to Main, “the Strange Situation predicts an infant’s behavior for life … and the AAI proves it.”⁴

What this suggests to us is that the type of response we tend to naturally lean toward in our relationships is often defined very early in our lives by the roles we have played with our primary supporters or, possibly, by the roles we have observed. If we are prone to develop secure attachments as children, that tendency will likely stick with us. If we are not prone to develop secure attachments, that tendency will likely stick with us as well—unless we do what is necessary to get it unstuck. In either case, it is essential that we eventually establish secure connections with the people who, as Dr. Main describes it, are our “havens of safety that must be approached in times of need.” This is not only critical for the good health and proper development of a child, but it remains essential in adulthood. It underlies our ability to reach for support and, therefore, our success in all key areas of life.

Having the good fortune to be supported, nurtured, and mentored in childhood, then, is one of the most crucial needs we have. However, there are multiple ways in which a child’s need for support may be thwarted, and it is easy for a child to go off course when parents are struggling. Some of the more common challenges I have encountered in my work include:

• Parents living through war, famine, financial crises, or other devastation who have little time or energy for the child;

• Parents who are struggling with a physical or psychological illness, or perhaps substance abuse, and lack the physical or emotional energy to nurture or respond to the child’s needs;

• Parents who were minimally supported themselves as children, so they do not understand that responding to a crying or reaching child is crucial;

• Parents who are in physical pain or emotional distress who, due to a paucity of resources themselves, turn to the child for support (in these cases, the child takes on the role of parent, learning the skills of a giver while his or her own needs are suppressed);

• A parent dying when the child is young, leaving a surviving parent with limited time or skill in nurturing the child;

• Growing up in a family where another sibling consumes the parents’ energy due to medical or other problems;

• Parents going through an angry divorce, which may leave little time or positive emotion for essential nurturing.

In many of these or similar situations, reaching out as a child may have seemed impractical, ineffective, or even dangerous. If you grew up in a family where going to your parents with your fears felt useless or scary, then as an adult it is typically much harder to recognize that you need and want support. It may still feel too dangerous, too risky—in any setting, with anyone in your life. However, children are not the only ones who require a safe, supportive environment in which to thrive. The process simply begins there.

To flourish, relationships of any kind, at any age or stage of life, depend on intimacy and trust. Intimacy is the ability to recognize and share your fears with another person. Trust is the confidence that sharing those fears will lead to support. Intimacy and trust are often difficult to achieve, however, because our greatest fear in any relationship is that if we open up and reach out to another person, we will be judged, criticized, abandoned, or betrayed. If we are to achieve success in our relationships, then, it is essential that we recognize and understand this natural fear at a deeper level.

Yet even although we may be greatly hurt again, we must risk it. I am boldly suggesting that the one essential element, the oxygen of any successful relationship—be it a romance, friendship, family, work, or any other connection—is our willingness to reach out and share our vulnerabilities and fears. Nothing is more critical in assuring that any relationship, in any setting, will succeed. And, nothing is scarier to us. So, just how do we get past this natural fear?

Once again, an understanding of how the brain works may shed additional light on why this issue of fear and reaching for support is so vital to our success. Psychiatrist Stephen Karpman, originator of the Drama Triangle, believes he has discovered the biology of storytelling, as do I. This is based on two simple and profound observations. The first observation is the understanding that all cultures, all societies, have both stories and storytellers. No civilization has ever been found to be without them. The second observation is that all stories are created in the brain and heard, read, visualized, and processed by the brain as well. Anything that is so universal that occurs in a specific human organ must have a biology to it, right?

Karpman’s Drama Triangle suggests that all stories have three basic elements: the Persecutor (the villain), the Victim (who often becomes the hero), and the Rescuer (who saves the victim). There is a simple childhood cartoon that provides a wonderful example of this, where the villain (the persecutor) ties up the beautiful damsel (the victim) and the hero (rescuer) comes to save her. Whether Black Bart, Dick Dastardly, or Snidely Whiplash comes to mind, this simple, recurring theme and cast of players demonstrates the key roles in any drama.

Image 8-1: The Karpman Drama Triangle.

In the original Star Wars, young Luke Skywalker (the victim) is minding his own business when along comes the Death Star (persecutor) to wipe out Luke’s aunt and uncle. In response, Hans Solo and Luke (turned rescuer) go to rescue the Princess. These roles play out again and again in the stories we tell—and in the stories we live as well.

“So what does all of this have to do with biology?” you might ask, “And, more importantly, with me achieving success in my relationships?” Let’s take a look at biology first. The Drama Triangle illustrates the essential survival mechanism in the brain. As hunter-gatherers tens of thousands of years ago, when we came across a stranger as we walked across the Savannah, our initial response would have been fear—amygdala activated. A good thing. Our first challenge would have been to ask ourselves, “Am I safe (or a potential victim)?” and “Is this person a threat (persecutor) or an ally (rescuer)?” A biologically driven drama triangle, act one. The handshake, in fact, is thought by many to have originated as a way to answer this biologically based question. We are “reaching out” to someone new with an empty weapon hand and observing their response. In a similar way, as we begin to develop a new friendship, romance, or a collaboration with colleagues we are, in effect, “emptying our hands of our defenses.” When we greet an unfamiliar person, our first question even today is, “Is this person safe? Is he or she a potential ally, or someone dangerous?” The primary decision in any relationship, be it with a friend, romantic partner, colleague, or boss begins with the answer to this question: “Am I safe?”

The Drama Triangle is also quite useful in explaining why conflict between two people, especially romantic conflict, is frequently so hard to resolve. Consider this: when we have an argument with someone, which role are we fighting for sole possession of—persecutor, rescuer, or victim? The victim, of course! And what role are we trying to convince the offending party (not us, certainly) that they belong in? The persecutor, without a doubt. We want the other party to agree that they did something inconsiderate and hurtful, and we want them to change roles and rescue the situation by apologizing and making it up to us. Now that doesn’t sound too difficult, does it? Not if you’re the victim! The problem is, what position is the other party jockeying for? You’ve got it right—the same one. They want you to admit that you were wrong (persecutor), that you hurt them (the victim), and they want you to apologize for (rescue) the situation. With both people fighting for the victim position, solutions are generally impossible. It is possible to step outside of the Drama Triangle and look for solutions. However, it is far from easy.

Following is a brief exercise to help you begin to become more aware of how the Drama Triangle may play out in your own life:

Consider the following questions:

1. Do you tend to automatically fall into one of the three positions when a relationship is struggling? If so, which one? Did you have this role as a child?

2. When you are sharing the details of previous friendships, romances that have not worked out, or perhaps work or family relationships that persist with challenges, do you tend to tell the story from the persecutor, victim, or rescuer position, or do you step outside of the triangle and speak of lessons learned and the value gained from the other person?

What did you discover?

The Drama Triangle can help us to better visualize this biological connection between fear and support. The brain’s amygdala and storyteller are constantly assessing: “Am I safe with this person or am I going to get hurt?” As we now know, when faced with a challenge the healthy brain wants us to reach for support. However, as we open up to another person and begin to share our perspectives, doubts, and mistakes, we worry about whether or not we will be respected, supported—rescued, so to speak. If not, then our greatest fear be realized. The person we reach out to may be a “persecutor” who will hurt or abandon us.

We define our best relationships as those people who know us well and accept us for who we are. These are the people in any setting or at any stage of life who stand by and support us when we reach out in times of need. And these are the people we wish to stand by and support as well. It is that relationship—two people standing outside of the triangle, reaching for and providing support—that leads to success.

Oh, the comfort—the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person—having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are, chaff and grain together; certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away.

—Dinah Craik, A Life for a Life, 1859

So, what if we find it challenging—or even impossible—to develop or maintain these types of relationships in one or more settings? For example, perhaps you know someone who has shown up with his or her latest romantic interest and it takes you no more than about 20 minutes to figure out what it takes them 20 months, or perhaps 20 years, to discover—that they could not possibly achieve a sustained intimate relationship with this person? Or maybe you know a person who is persistently isolated at work, fighting for his or her own perspective, unable to make connections with colleagues, and pursing his or her projects alone. To understand why these things may happen, let’s briefly revisit the three types of attachment.

Growing up without consistent support can make it very difficult to ask for or accept support from others as an adult. If your early attempts to reach for support were met with rejection or indifference, then you learned, when you’re afraid, to pull up the drawbridge, fill the moat with water, and take care of things yourself. This may have been a brilliant decision when you were young. Learning to be self-reliant when there is no one to consistently rely on may have been a very good, perhaps even a life-saving strategy. Unfortunately, the powerful decisions we make in childhood often become automatic patterns. As a result, habits of self-reliance frequently becomes justified rather than wise.

Do you recognize any similarity between the self-reliant, isolated adult and the response of the insecure-avoidant children in Ainsworth’s Strange Situation studies? If there is a fear of being rejected or hurt that stems from your childhood or young adult experiences, then choosing a loving, caring, dependable friend or lover is too dangerous. It is too risky to wonder what it might mean if that type of person were to betray you. Even worse, we may have no awareness of our approach. Few adults, in fact, ever remember making the conscious choice to avoid asking for help. We don’t recall when we decided to avoid becoming vulnerable or dependent, and our use of this strategy rarely gets revisited. As a result, by adolescence or adulthood, our choices of romantic partners, friends, and work alliances are often unfortunate. We may remain isolated and lonely or bounce from one poor choice to another, repeatedly experiencing abandonment, betrayal, or even significant harm (as in cases of abuse), with no awareness that the choices we are making are designed from within to avoid the vulnerabilities that were so painful in childhood.

Independence and self-reliance are essential skills at certain times in our lives. However if like competitiveness, these are only skills, it will detract from our ability to succeed in all of life’s most important endeavors. Being free to choose to stand alone or to ask for help as needed in any given situation is true freedom and the key to our success.

So how do we go about developing strong, secure attachments if that is not our habit or our current habitat? It’s true that children who received the support they needed from parents early on in life are blessed, as are adults who have forged and sustain relationships with supportive and nurturing people. However, as evidenced by Mo’ne’s incredible athletic success under the wing of Coach Bandura, the meaningful support we all need can be provided by others along the way as well. The effects of good coaching, in fact, sound strikingly similar to the outcomes of those high-risk children in the Kauai Longitudinal Study who ended up thriving at ages 18 and 30 despite significant early life challenges. Recall that these children had the opportunity to establish a close bond with at least one person from whom they received nurturing during those first years of life—a relative, neighbor, baby sitter, or another caring adult who had stepped in to fulfill the nurturing role. Even in the heartbreaking tragedy of child abuse, we see examples of the power of support. It is a common myth that children who are physically or sexually abused by their parents will grow up to abuse their children. This is not consistently true. Children who are abused who have at least one nurturing and supportive parent, foster parent, or a kind and loving spouse in adulthood, report the least trauma at the time, the least damage as an adult, and they have a very low risk of repeating the abusive behavior.⁵ What these findings tell us is that, regardless of circumstances, we all need nurturing people in our lives if we are to develop and sustain physical and mental health.

John McCarthy, like Bandura, organized baseball camps for a multitude of children in both Washington D.C. and in Brooklyn, New York through many years. He views baseball as a means of giving children the tools they need for a successful life. In a quote in The Wall Street Journal he remarked: “Good coaches are gardeners, and they grow human beings.”⁶ If you were choosing a coach to introduce you or your child to a new sport—or to anything important in life, for that matter—what would be your first priority? If you said, “Someone very skilled and accomplished at that thing,” I’m afraid your answer would be wrong. Researcher Benjamin Bloom interviewed 18 tennis players who, at some point in their careers, had all been ranked in the “top 10 in the world.” Bloom was looking for common traits to help explain their extraordinary accomplishments. One of the most consistent findings was that these players’ first coaches were not necessarily prestigious in the sport, but they were all very accomplished, very skilled, in working with children, showing an interest in children, and helping children to fall in love with the sport. Bloom described these coaches as people who “liked children and rewarded them with praise, signs of approval, and even candy when they did anything right. They were extremely encouraging. They were enthusiastic about the talent field and what they had to teach these children. In many cases … they treated the child as a friend of the family.”⁷

So perhaps it is time to identify and look for, and continue or begin to provide, such nurturing and support in our relationships now. Acknowledging our fear, reaching for and giving support, and strengthening our relationships throughout our lives all serve to decrease the feelings of “stress” that get in our way and to open the door to success in our work, health, and relationships. Whether we are talking about a romance or our connections with friends, family members, or colleagues, the quality of our relationships underlies our ability to reach out to others, which in turn underlies our potential for success in all key areas of life.

As we wrap up this chapter, let’s take just a minute to recall one other long-term study mentioned in the Introduction. The Harvard Grant Study began in 1939 and has followed 268 male sophomores for 75 years. Researchers interviewed each of these students and their families extensively at the beginning of the project and each received medical exams and psychological testing to assess their health and well-being every two years. Astonishingly, 96 percent of the subjects who were interviewed were followed well into their 80s. The findings from the study were many, but they all boiled down to a single important point. A few years ago, George Vaillant, one of the most recent researchers in this lengthy project, was asked, “What have you learned from the Grant Study men?” His response? “That the only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people.”⁸