Love is knowing mate’s insecurities, working to soothe them

My eldest son was 6 years old when the storm hit, what my grandmother called a "thunder boomer." Ominous, dark clouds. Raindrops as big as baseballs. Lightning strikes all around. The thunder rattled the windows.

I'll never forget the plaintive cry: "Papa!" His face was white with fear. He was on his knees, trembling, clutching the family room couch, attempting to hide.

Now, imagine if I had ignored and scorned his fear: "Get over it, boy. It's just a thunderstorm! Don't be ridiculous!"

Or, imagine if I had become angry and defensive: "I can't believe you don't appreciate all the things I do to keep you safe and sound! Is it ever enough? You're acting like I don't care about you at all! Are you saying that I'm the kind of father who would tie you to a lightning rod in the middle of an open field?!"

What I did, of course, is go to him. I spoke in soothing tones. I touched him, enveloping him with my arms. I noticed aloud how scared he was, how scary this storm was.

Over and over I repeated that he was safe. I told him how and why I knew he was safe. I told him how electricity grounds itself, and how, even if lightning struck our house, the structure would ground the charge with no harm to us.

I taught him of safety by describing how lightning can be dangerous. If Jonathan knows what defines real danger, then he can have more perspective on his current perception of danger.

I told him how the clouds rub up against each other and build up an electrical charge. I reminded him of how he once rubbed his slippered feet across the carpet and reached up his index finger to touch his mother on the nose to shock her. "You made your own baby lightning, Jonathan," I told him.

We opened the curtains to watch the magnificent storm. I asked him to count with me between lightning strikes and the resulting thunder. When the thunder rolled, we said, "Kaa-boom!" together, out loud, as if daring to answer back to Thor (see Greek god of lightning.)

I soothed, nurtured and reassured. And my little boy, 21 last month, was just fine.

I think of this as I finish reading the book "Wired For Love" by Dr. Stan Tatkin, clinician, researcher, teacher and developer of "A Psychobiological Approach to Couples Therapy." It is a very important book. One of the finest, most practical, most readable and intelligent books on love and marriage I have ever read. I'll be recommending this book to couples until I retire. Buy two copies. Now. Give one to your sweetheart, and one to yourself. Read, talk, read, talk ... repeat as necessary.

Tatkin says that our childhood experience (needs met versus unmet) wires our brain for how we attach ourselves to mates. He describes three styles of attachment. The Anchor comes from an abiding security in self. The Island and The Wave are largely informed by recurring insecurity.

The Island fears being intruded upon, trapped, controlled or blamed by intimacy. "People who are islands often confuse independence and autonomy with their adaptation to neglect" (Page 58). The Wave fears being abandoned, separated, alone, being a burden to others. People who are Waves "appear overly expressive, dramatic, emotional, tangential, irrational and angry" (Pages 66 and 67).

Tatkin challenges all committed life partners to become experts at recognizing and managing these fears in the other. Love means knowing the default insecurities in your mate, and being the "go to" person for how those insecurities are soothed and reassured, even pre-empted.

As partners, each holds the key to the other's self-esteem and self-worth. Remember, self-esteem and self-worth are developed through our contact with other people. You misunderstand if you think these goods are provided by the self. They're not, they're provided by the other. That's how it works and that's how it has always worked, starting from infancy (Page 80).

Regrettably, when our partner is afraid or insecure, he/she doesn't cry out with the same shameless candor of an innocent 6-year-old. Adults express fear and insecurity in moods, stonewalling, reactivity, irritability and criticism. But it's still fear and insecurity. Just disguised.

What if you moved to soothe, nurture and reassure, instead of mobilizing defensiveness, impatience and criticism?

Or, as I often fantasize about trying with couples in marriage counseling, "Have the two of you tried being nice to each other?"

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Las Vegas Psychiatry and the author of "Human Matters: Wise and Witty Counsel on Relationships, Parenting, Grief and Doing the Right Thing" (Stephens Press). His columns appear on Sundays. Contact him at 227-4165 or skalas@reviewjournal.com.