February Newsletter

Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine's Day, that Hallmark holiday that no one seems to be a big fan of and yet everyone seems to have some sort of expectations about. It's such a playful yet polarizing day, and honestly, I don’t think it’s our fault. I blame it on Candygrams that started in elementary school.

For $1 (which was like $100 in the 80s) you could send a Valentine card/candy or rose to be delivered to your best friend or crush or occasionally a teacher. We would sign up weeks in advance in the lunchroom or at the office to make sure our people would get their prize. But really it wasn't about giving to people we loved; it was about people seeing how many people gave to us. How loved we were. How popular we were. Sometimes we would receive roses with anonymous messages and everyone would gossip about who this secret admirer was. What was intended as a cute fundraiser for the school quickly turned into an analog Instagram feed. Who had the most followers? Who walked around with the most roses at the end of the day?

That person was never me. In part because I was kind of poor, so I could never keep up with the investments my friends would make; and why send me a rose when I would likely not send one back? Another reason I never won that particular popularity contest is because I was a bit of a rebel even at a young age. By the time I was 12, I was listening to punk music, dyeing my hair with Manic Panic, and denouncing all sorts of social norms. School dances? Lame. Sports? Boring. Valentine's Day? The patriarchy! (Okay, maybe that one came later, but still.)

I had a boyfriend in 7th grade who brought me a bouquet of dead daisies (likely pulled from the trash on his walk to school) on Candygram day, and I proudly toted it from classroom to classroom. I can't help but smile thinking about that kid who was so proud of being a nonconformist. And yet underneath the admiration, there's also a hint of sadness. When I was younger I was anti a lot of things because I didn't know how to be for them. I didn't know how to say I wanted the love and attention those gifts would bring me, and I didn't know it was okay to be playful, to be happy, to want, to need. To not be so tough or "cool" all of the time.

Here's what I've learned since then: Being anti something is often easier than admitting we want it.

It's a lot safer to reject Valentine's Day as commercialized nonsense than to risk feeling disappointed. Whether you're single, partnered, or somewhere in between. It's easier to mock engagement announcements on social media than to acknowledge you want that kind of commitment, or that kind of witness to your life, for yourself. It's simpler to roll your eyes at Mother's Day brunch than to admit you wish you had that kind of closeness with your own mother, or your children, or that you're grieving the version of it you never got. It's easier to dismiss a friend's birthday celebration than to acknowledge you want people who would show up for yours.

I see this negotiation play out with clients all the time, especially around holidays. Even for those of us who genuinely don't care about grand gestures, there are moments in life when we can't help but compare: engagements, weddings, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Valentine's Day. These are the days when our feeds get full of pictures declaring love and appreciation, or the conspicuous absence of them.

And here's the thing: wanting to feel appreciated, loved, seen, that's not shallow or needy or "too much." It's human.

There is nothing more vulnerable than wanting something from another person.

When you want something, your nervous system literally has to open. Think about what happens in your body when you ask for something you really care about, a softening in the chest, maybe a tightness in the throat, a feeling of exposure. That's your body moving out of a protected, defended state and into a state of connection and possibility. It's the difference between armoring up and reaching out.

The Gottmans (John and Julie Gottman, psychologists and researchers who have spent decades studying what makes relationships work) refer to these moments of opening, of moving toward another person, as "bids for connection", those small (or large) attempts we make to get attention, affection, and appreciation from the people in our lives. A bid can be as simple as "Look at this funny thing" or as loaded as "I really need you to understand how hurt I was." Every bid is a risk. Every bid says: I'm showing you that I want something from you, and now you get to decide what to do with that information.

When our bids are met, when someone turns toward us instead of away, our nervous system registers safety. We learn that wanting is okay, that needing doesn't make us too much, that vulnerability can be met with care. But when our bids are repeatedly ignored, dismissed, or mocked (like those candygrams that never came), we learn something else: that wanting is dangerous, that needing makes us weak, that it's safer to not ask at all.

This is where the defense comes in. If wanting feels too risky, we close down. We get cynical. We decide Valentine's Day is stupid, grand gestures are performative, people who want these things are fooling themselves. But what's actually happening in our bodies is a collapse, a shutting down of the parts of us that reach toward connection because reaching has gone wrong too many times.

The shift from protecting against a want to supporting ourselves through a want is not just psychological, it's physiological. It's the difference between:

• Bracing your chest and holding your breath (protection)

• Softening your chest and breathing fully (openness)

• Tightening your jaw and looking away (defense)

• Relaxing your face and making eye contact (engagement)

When we move from "I don't need anything from anyone" to "I want this and I'm going to ask for it," we're literally changing our nervous system state. We're moving from a defended, self-protective state into a vulnerable, connective state. And that requires an enormous amount of trust, trust that the other person will turn toward us, and trust that even if they don't, we can handle the disappointment without collapsing back into "I shouldn’t want."

This is why it matters so much that we learn to ask for what we need in ways that are specific and clear, rather than expecting people to read our minds. Because every time we make a bid and it's met with "I hear you" or "Let me try" or even "I can't do exactly that, but here's what I can do," we're building evidence that wanting is safe. That we can stay open even when things don't go perfectly.

And this is also why it matters that we develop the capacity to support ourselves when our bids aren't met the way we hoped. Because if the only two options are "get exactly what I want" or "collapse into 'I knew I shouldn’t want,'" we'll never risk wanting anything at all.

But what that looks like is different for everyone. For some people it's roses and dinner reservations. For others it's a partner doing the dishes without being asked, or a friend who checks in without being prompted. For some it's a thoughtful card. For others it's quality time without phones, with a partner, a parent, a close friend. Some people want public declarations; others want a quiet moment of being seen. Some need words; others need actions. Some want grand gestures; others just want someone to remember. Some want to celebrate; others want to be held in the hard moments. Some want to give; others are still learning it's okay to receive.

The problem isn't the wanting. The problem is when we can't communicate what we actually need because we're too busy defending against wanting it in the first place. Or when we expect our friends/families/partners to read our minds about what "appreciation" should look like, and then feel hurt when they get it wrong by our unspoken standards.

While I still tend to be pretty practical about things, I've learned over the years that I don't need a grand gesture, but ritual matters. Celebration matters. Appreciation matters. Being seen matters. And it's okay to want those things.

Maybe that looks like Valentine's Day dinner. Maybe it looks like skipping the restaurant chaos and cooking together at home. Maybe it looks like a phone call with your mom, or finally telling a friend what they mean to you. Maybe it looks like acknowledging that you hate the holiday but still want to feel appreciated, in some other way, by someone who matters, on some other day. Maybe it looks like letting yourself receive something instead of deflecting it. Maybe it looks like asking for what you need instead of waiting to see if anyone notices.

The point isn't what it looks like. The point is being able to say: I want this. I need this. And trusting that wanting and needing don't make you weak or needy or too much or uncool, they make you human, in relationship, and worth showing up for

The work isn't pretending we don't have needs. The work is figuring out what we actually want, finding the courage to say it out loud, and being willing to meet the people we love when they do the same.

Even if what you're showing up with is a bouquet of dead daisies.

And at the end of all of it, here's what I know: the gap between wanting something and letting yourself have it isn't a willpower problem. It's not a self-awareness problem either. You've already done that work. You know what you want. You can probably articulate exactly what's in the way.

It's a nervous system problem. Your body learned at some point that wanting was dangerous, that reaching toward something meant risk, disappointment, exposure. And so it built a very efficient system to stop you from trying. Not to hurt you. To protect you. The problem is that system doesn't know the chapter is over.

Which is exactly why this month we're offering something free to help with that.

On March 13th, we're hosting How to Create Real Change In Your Life When Awareness Alone Isn't Enough a free 45-minute experiential workshop for people who understand their patterns but can't seem to change them. We'll do actual experiential work together: a somatic exercise, a simple visual art directive, and some real practice at letting your body catch up with what your mind already knows. No art skills needed. No therapy experience required. Just bring whatever you've been carrying and a willingness to try something different. If you’re interested, you can register below.

This month, we are exploring relationships in all their forms: romantic partnerships, friendships, ruptures, repairs, parent-child estrangements, and the attachment patterns that run underneath all of it. If you want to go deeper, click on the links to the blog posts or follow us on Instagram.

Wishing you well.

- Jennifer, Cap Founder