DOING “THE WORK IS GREAT, BUT WE CAN’T DO IT ALONE: MY RESOLUTION FOR 2022

It’s hard to believe that this time last year I was in the midst of planning this newsletter. I had many doubts about whether it was a good idea. Would anyone care? Was it *good enough*? Could I even keep it going for a whole year (as if I didn’t churn out multiple stories a day at my old job) — but I did my best to push through the doubts because deep down, I knew that this was important to me. Working on this newsletter has been so rewarding, to be able to tell the stories that I always wanted to tell about myself, about others—and hopefully inspire more people to seek healing, wholeness, and go after what they truly want. I’m so thankful for each and every one of you who are here reading, listening, sending DMs and emails, or joining in on the Geneva chat talks, always willing to share your own stories, perspectives, and vulnerablity. This community would be nothing without you.

When sharing my stories, I often think about how easy it is for me to be vulnerable with thousands of strangers—whether it’s about friendship breakups, situationships, or my own battle with anxiety. However, it’s not always as easy for me to be vulnerable with those who I’m attempting to form an intimate, romantic relationship with. As much as I share through this newsletter and on social media—it’s just not the same as getting to know someone in real life. 

Throughout my late twenties and into my thirties, I’ve been focused on myself and doing the work because I felt dedicated to my personal growth and wanted to know that when I met ‘my person’, I had worked through as much of my shit as possible. I’ve spent a lot of time digging deep and unpacking my attachment issues through therapy and on my own.

Around six years ago, I learned that I had an anxious attachment style after reading the book Attached by Amir Levine. Developed in 1958 by John Bowlby, Attachment Theory explains how our relationship with our primary caregiver impacts how we act in romantic relationships (take the quiz here). The book so clearly outlined why I often found myself in such challenging relationship dynamics that never seemed to get off the ground. People who are anxiously attached are often caught in a vicious cycle of being attracted to people with avoidant attachment style. One seeks closeness while the other runs from it. In the past I would be quick to blame myself for any and all relationship failings and it took time (and finding Amir’s book) to really unlearn that. 

My anxious attachment stems from fears of being abandoned (I can trace abandonment patterns through my family’s lineage) or not being a priority (stemming from inconsistent emotional support I received in my formative years). It has deeply affected my internal experience of relationships, causing me to feel that someone’s feelings for me could change or vanish at any minute. I also don’t trust that the object of my affection can or even cares to meet my emotional needs. 

I’ve had endless conversations with my therapist, friends, and family about attachment styles over the years and I’ve read all the books. But it wasn’t really until the last few months that it all came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks: Doing the work on my own is only half the battle. I’ve been too focused on what’s happening in my head, and not on what’s happening in my body. And if I want to fix my attachment style, I have to actually work out my triggers through intimate relationships with others. 

I’ve never been a big dater, but I took an official break from any attempts during the pandemic because my life was in a massive transition. I had just left my job, didn’t know what I was doing with my life, moved home to the suburbs with my parents, and didn’t consider dating a priority. It was also nice to have a break and take some pressure off myself because I have put a lot of pressure on myself over the years about my relationship status—but also because dating is anxiety inducing for me. I love being single—I’m fiercely independent, and not having to worry about whether I’m going to hear from a man is the most peaceful place to be. But at the end of the day, I’m human and want romantic love just like everyone else.

My desire to date was finally reignited towards the end of summer when I met a cute guy in Union Square Park one evening. It took about 24 hours before I felt waves of anxiety creeping in about this new connection. The anxious feelings are always concentrated in my stomach. Some time ago, I started following @thesecurerelationship on Instagram who posts all about attachment styles. In one post, she described the experience of being anxiously attached as, “when I’m hurting, it feels like my body is on fire.” When I first read it, I thought, that sounds extreme. But in the midst of my own activated nervous system recently, I came to realize that is exactly how it feels. It doesn’t matter how many psychology books I’ve read, none of them have stopped my body from being flooded with cortisol.

My park paramour quickly fizzled, and in October, I decided to be more intentional about dating and got back on the apps. I’ve been on dating apps basically since Tinder first launched, but to be honest, I’ve never really taken them all that seriously. I mostly met men in real life, and that’s how I preferred it—but as my friend Matchmaker Maria always says, not being on the apps is like not having an e-mail address. Even my therapist started to campaign for me to start putting myself out there again. 

OK FINE. 

So, I went on my first dating app date in probably 5 years—it was nice, and I was open to seeing him again but have not actually made the time with my work/the holiday schedule. A week later, while I was on a work trip, I decided to go on another date. I went into it again with zero expectations. This was just to keep my oar in the water. After all, I didn’t even live in this city, so there was nothing to lose. But the joke was on me when the guy and I ended up hitting it off over our hour-long coffee date—which turned into seeing each other again that night.

It couldn’t have gone better, and we were both going to be in London at the same time a few weeks later, so we agreed we’d see each other again. But there was a part of me that knew, as soon as we parted ways, I’d start feeling anxious and question the connection. He texted me most of the day that I traveled back to New York— and then the following day, I didn’t hear from him, and the thoughts started creeping in...

What if he doesn’t text me all week? When will I hear from him again? Is he over it? No, he couldn’t be, he texted me yesterday. He checked in to see if I got home. 

I could feel the burning sensation igniting in my stomach. The anxiety growing.

The next day, I received a voice note from him, and suddenly the tightness in my stomach subsided. I typically consider myself the kind of woman who does not need to hear from a man every single day—but my anxious attachment was saying otherwise. No matter how well the conversation went, on the days I didn’t hear from him, I suddenly started to feel the anxiety grow all over again and fall into obsessive thoughts about when I would hear from him next or why I wasn’t hearing from him. Even on the days we did text (and just to be clear, I initiated occasionally) I would find a way to pick apart whatever he said in search of proof for why he was or was not “really” into me… another sure-fire way to spark my anxiety.

If this all sounds utterly exhausting—trust me it is. It’s also an incredibly perplexing situation for me because I consider myself to be quite confident and self-assured in my rational mind. And I always believed the more I learned about the psychology behind this all, the easier it would get—but in reality, these feelings have felt more intense than I have ever experienced. My therapist says as my awareness is increasing, so is my capacity to feel my attachment wounds. So, it doesn’t matter how much confidence I think I have because at the end of the day, my scared inner child takes the wheel—and I’m just along for the ride. 

It became clear that no matter if he texted me every day or not—my nervous system was activated. There wasn’t really anything he could do to make me feel better (nor was it his job to). Yes, I’ve considered that maybe with the right person I wouldn’t feel this way—but I don’t believe that to be true (nor does my therapist). There’s no guarantees when it comes to relationships, especially in the beginning stages. So, this was on me. I needed to put the work into practice. Much like I have a self-care practice to help manage my everyday anxiety, I needed a self-soothing practice when my attachment wounds were activated.

I journaled whenever I felt triggered, writing down what was happening very matter-of-factly, so I could attempt to stay objective and not fall into my own catastrophizing spiral. When things feel uncertain, my mind starts to fill in the answers to its own questions —and those answers are always negative. And for the first time, I leaned into inner child work. None of us ever outgrow our inner child, as evidenced by our attachment styles. So, reassuring little Chrissy that she was going to be okay no matter what happened with this man was crucial. Even the act of acknowledging the feelings my younger part was stirring up inside of me helped. I would spend some time laying still and really focusing on that burning sensation inside my gut–just the act of acknowledging the feeling would often make it go away. And of course, I still leaned on and complained to my friends. I looked to them for advice but ultimately filtered that through my own moral compass.

Another critical element to this is trying not to project my anxiety onto the other person. Luckily, I have a level of self-awareness (and a regular standing therapy appointment) that inhibits me from really doing this. But I tend to overcorrect anxious thoughts by being ambivalent OR, at my worst, trying to control a situation because I feel out of control. 

Ultimately, something about this “talking stage,” as the kids say, has felt like a major turning point for me and how I want to move forward in 2022. I’ve felt quite challenged these last few weeks and at the same time really inspired to continue taking steps to heal my anxious attachment— and it’s only going to happen if I continue to date, get clear on my triggers and what it is that I want in a partnership. Defining what I’m looking for in a relationship has always been a struggle for me, as someone who mainly operates off of vibes. I’m thankful to have had this shock to my system again to remind me to stay present in my body and observe what’s coming up for me, so I can work through it and move beyond it—hopefully with someone with secure attachment.

In Partnership with JW Marriott Hotels Photo by Kelsey Cherry

A huge focus for me in 2021 was staying true to the routines I’ve created for myself as the world shifted back into some semblance of ‘normal’ during a pandemic. My morning walks, meditation, journaling, baths— and just prioritizing rest and my well-being is sacred and it’s been really important to me to hold onto this regardless of whether I’m at home in Westchester or on the road.

I took quite a break from traveling for the last year and a half which felt really good, but I knew that eventually, I would pick up where I left off. Since I left my full-time job, one of my dreams has been to partner with a hotel I love—and along came the opportunity to work with JW Marriott Hotels. It was exactly what I needed to remind myself how much I truly love to travel and why it’s important for me to keep that routine in my life after taking a break for 21 months. 

I started the partnership nice and slow with the Essex House Hotel in New York during New York Fashion Week. With the perfect location across from Central Park, I was able to keep up with my morning walking routine before running up and down the city for shoots and runway shows. 

In November, I finally got back on a plane to travel to Scottsdale, Arizona and Austin, Texas. Getting back on the plane was very much like riding a bike—and my excitement to experience these destinations definitely helped me overcome any jitters I had about being up in the air again.

Camelback Inn in Arizona was the perfect retreat with everything I could possibly need all in one place—including the most amazing spa and desert views. There’s something about the desert that always feels really energizing to me. And I was absolutely charmed by Austin. I spent a quick weekend there in 2014 for SXSW, but this trip gave me a whole new perspective on this city and I can’t wait to go back. Catching up on a book or watching the sunset from the hotel’s terrace became my favorite evening activity.

This month, I’m wrapping up our partnership in London, my favorite European city. The Grosvenor House is the same hotel I stayed in when I first came to London and absolutely fell in love with the city. I have been dreaming about coming back here, specifically during Christmas time, and I’m so glad I got to experience it again this year, especially after its years-long renovation glow-up. 

I’ve stayed in a lot of hotels over the years, and not many of them immediately feel like a home away from home upon arrival, which allowed me to stay present and prioritize my wellness routines. Overall, the memories I have created here have been some of my absolute favorites of this year.