08/22/2026
Psych Saturday: Coming Back
Most of us are carrying around a picture of a good relationship that has almost nothing to do with a good relationship.
The picture is smoothness. Two people who understand each other. A horse and a rider who never come apart. If you are doing it right there is no friction. So every time something goes wrong, we take it as evidence that something is wrong. With the horse, or with the person, or, most often, with ourselves.
I believed that for a long time. And it made me a worse therapist and a worse horseman, because a person who believes ruptures are failures will do almost anything to avoid one.
Then I learned something that turned my thinking upside down.
Researchers who study mothers and babies, the securely attached ones, the pairs you would hold up as the good outcome, went in and counted. Moment by moment. How often were the two of them actually in sync, reading each other, matched?
The finding… about thirty percent of the time.
Seventy percent of the interaction, in the healthiest pairs they could find, was some version of mismatch. Missing the signal. Reading it wrong. Getting a beat behind.
Which means the smooth picture is not merely hard to reach. It does not exist. Nobody is living there. Not the best mother, not the best horseman, not you on your best day.
So if health is not the absence of rupture, what is it?
It is what happens next.
Those mothers and their babies were not better at avoiding mismatches. They were better at coming back from them. The baby fusses, the mother misses it, the baby fusses harder, and then… she finds him. Over and over, all day long, out and back, out and back. And the thing the baby is learning, every single time, is not that the world is seamless. He is learning something far more useful.
He is learning that when it breaks, it gets fixed.
That is what security is made of. Not smoothness. Repair.
I think about this constantly with horses, because a horse asks the question more honestly than we do. You ask for something and he does not give it. You ask a bit louder than you meant to. He gets tight, his head comes up, he leaves you a little… and there it is. A rupture. Small, ordinary, and completely unavoidable if you are doing anything at all.
The question was never whether that would happen. It happens every day, to everyone. The question is what you do in the next few seconds.
Because a horse is running the same experiment the baby is. He is finding out, over and over, whether coming apart with you is survivable. Whether the pressure ends. Whether you come back. And he is not learning it from the times things went well. He is learning it precisely from the times they did not.
Which means every rupture is an opportunity you would not otherwise have had. You cannot teach a creature that recovery is possible in a relationship where nothing ever goes wrong. There is nothing to recover from. The trust that gets built in the coming back is a different, sturdier substance than the trust built by never having been tested.
I know that sounds like a consolation prize. It is not. It is the whole thing.
The horse who has never had a hard moment with you does not know what you are like in a hard moment. And someday there will be one, and he will find out then, with no evidence to go on. The horse you have come apart with, and come back to, forty times, knows exactly what you are like. He has data. That horse is not fragile.
Same with people. I have watched clients wait years to say a difficult thing, protecting a relationship from the friction they were sure it could not take. And what they had at the end of all that protecting was not a strong relationship. It was an untested one, which is a different thing wearing the same coat.
So the failure was never the rupture. The failure is the rupture that never gets repaired.
The ask that turned into a fight and just… ended there. The words that went wrong and never got revisited. The distance that opened up and got tolerated instead of crossed. That is where the damage lives. Not in the coming apart, which is inevitable and constant and no one's fault. In the not coming back.
And here is the mercy in it, if you are anything like me and you replay your bad moments at two in the morning. You do not have to be smooth. You were never going to be. Thirty percent is the number, and that is in the good pairs.
You only have to be reliable about the return.
Miss the signal. Get it wrong. Ask too hard, or too soon, or on a day when neither of you had it. Then go back. Go back gently and without a speech, and let the horse find out one more time what he is finding out every day anyway.
That it broke, and you fixed it.
That is not the exception to the relationship.
That is the relationship.
~ Paul
PC - Erin Gilmore Photography