Image description: a child balancing on a gymnastics beam
Whenever I have a moment to reflect on close relationships, I wonder about the ease with which some people navigate them while many others struggle. How difficult are relationships? How hard it can it possibly be? Well, it’s as easy (or as hard) as walking a tightrope.
Relationships are predicated on a delicate balance between holding and yielding and a sound judgement of when and how to use these. It seems that some folk just know how to do that without even thinking and this is likely because they’ve been taught how to do it from a very young age and within the safety of their families. These masterful ropewalkers would have been taught how to negotiate this delicate balance safely and with oodles of support. First rope walk would take place on the ground, then lifted a few inches in the air, then higher up, and then the rope would become longer. These incremental changes would happen with the child having mastered the previous step and not a moment sooner and always, always with the knowledge that if they fall a pair of loving hands will be there to catch them. These kids would go onto embodying the art of walking the rope; it will just feel like the most natural thing on earth. This mirrors closely the confidence of people who were lucky to have been nurtured as children and the apparent ease with which they move through this world.
Those of us who were rushed to walk the rope too early or without any preparation, must learn about it in some way shape or form. It is often a school of rather hard knocks, and falls, and bruises. Others still may attempt conquering the rope by reading about the physics, the ropes, the human anatomy, and the history of ropewalking. And yet, with all this impressive knowledge, we may still marvel at the people who just know how to walk the rope and are not terrified of falling.
Relationships are a little like that too. People with secure attachments stemming from childhood are proficient in the delicate craft of relating, so much so that they might not even give it another thought. In my lifetime, I tried and failed many a relationship and tried to remedy this by reading extensively about love and relationships. I still felt like I was working extremely hard and only treading water not least because I am neurodivergent. The change, the real tangible change, happens gradually. It started with my first therapist who was patient enough to walk through the tight rope on the ground and gradually challenged me to aim higher. Once I felt that sense of secure connection, I could revisit it time and again. I am still learning to walk the tightrope.
Now as a therapist myself, I honour the pace of the amateur ropewalkers and guide them through the wobbles and hesitancy with the patience and understanding that relationships and tightrope walking are not easy. I know this. I still wobble and fall. And then I smile (or cry), I give myself and others grace, and I try again.