Dedication
To my mom, and all those who have gone before,
may they rest in the infinite peace of love.
To all of us who remain, may we alchemize
our pain and heal our hearts.
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Introduction: You Create Change
1. The Power of Your Relationships
2. Exploring Your Embodied Self
3. Understanding the Neurobiology of Trauma Bonds
4. Witnessing Your Conditioned Selves
5. Harnessing the Wisdom of Your Body
6. Creating Change Through Mind Consciousness
7. Unlocking the Power of Your Heart
8. Becoming the Love You Seek
9. Empowering Your Relationships
10. Reconnecting with the Collective
Epilogue: My Heart’s Unexpected Truth
Acknowledgments
Notes
Index
About the Author
Praise
Also by Dr. Nicole LePera
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
You Create Change
You’re probably reading this book because there’s a relationship in your life that’s causing you stress. Whether it’s with a romantic partner, parent, sibling, child, friend, or colleague, you’d like your dynamic with another person to change—and if you’re like most of us, you’d like this change to happen as quickly as possible. Some of you may even be on the fence about continuing to work on a particular relationship, unsure if it’s worth the effort or if repair is even possible. Others may be having difficulty finding or sustaining relationships, fearing a future of isolation or loneliness.
I get it. Over the course of a decade working as a clinical psychologist, I had many clients who deeply desired to find a lasting love, resolve repeated conflicts, or break dysfunctional habits. During sessions with individuals, couples, and families, I witnessed a similar pattern again and again: despite their best intentions and efforts, most people were unable to create or maintain the relationships they wanted, and many had grown frustrated and often resentful in the process.
The majority of my clients read relationship books and had, over time, tried all of the latest strategies and tools, hoping something, anything, would help. Many had heard about the concept of “love languages,” made popular by Dr. Gary Chapman’s 1992 book The Five Love Languages: The Secret to Love That Lasts. Dr. Chapman’s theory suggests that asking our partner to demonstrate their love in different ways—through physical touch, quality time together, gift giving, words of affirmation, or acts of service (like making the bed or cooking dinner)—can deepen our connection.
This larger approach of implementing external change—expecting others to adapt their behaviors to meet our needs—is a common thread in most relationship-based therapy. Though the practices and tools differ across therapists, books, and ideologies, in general, the core message is generally the same: we must change ourselves in some ways to better meet another’s needs and vice versa.
In theory, if you don’t feel supported or connected in your relationship, asking the other person to modify their behavior probably sounds like a good plan. But when we take this approach in real life, it often backfires. We can’t change others, and relying on them to change their ingrained relational patterns doesn’t usually work, at least not for very long. Instead, seeking external change often increases the tension between people, causing reactivity or discontent, and perpetuating conflict or disconnection. It can actually be a recipe for a lifetime of resentment and contempt.
You might (rightly) be wondering, So what am I supposed to do? If expecting others to adapt who they are to better accommodate who we are doesn’t work, then what does? For years, I asked this question, too.
Early in my adult life, I struggled to create the bonds I craved. Though I had numerous therapeutic tools at my disposal, I continued to feel dissatisfied in most of my relationships, despite my best efforts to increase my self-reflection, self-awareness, and communication. I felt constantly alone, even when surrounded by others, whether it was my family during holiday time, a group of friends who had gathered to celebrate my birthday, or a romantic partner on an intimate vacation. In those moments when I wanted (or even expected) to feel a deep connection, I often found myself feeling lonely and unloved. No matter what I said, how I said it, or what others did or tried to do for me, I still felt disconnected and alone. The more desperately I tried to get close to others, the farther away I felt and the deeper my ache grew.
One Christmas, stuck in these unfulfilling yet familiar cycles, my relationship patterns became clearer to me. At the time, I was dating Sara, a relationship you’ll read more about in chapter 1. We had been together for several years and were living in a shared East Village apartment. Because we both went home to our respective families for Christmas Day, we had a tradition of celebrating the holiday together a few days early. That particular year, Sara had asked if we could hang out as a couple, just the two of us. That was a significant departure from our normal dynamic. Sara was a very social person, and our relationship for years had revolved around parties and group dinners. I was touched that she wanted to spend the day with me, and I hoped this special gesture would help deepen our bond.
