01/07/2026
My thoughts from this week's client work:
The Child We Bring Into Adult Relationships
I've seen adaptation in myself (it's still there) and I see it in my clients...
We often talk about childhood adaptation in the context of trauma or severe adversity, but I think we overlook something much more universal.
Every child is born into relationships they depend on completely. Long before they have words or conscious awareness, they begin asking one question through their behaviour: Who do I need to become to maximise my chances of being loved, accepted, and kept close?
In some families, those adaptations are dramatic because the environment demands them. But even in homes where children are genuinely loved, subtle adaptations still emerge. A child may become the peacemaker, the achiever, the independent one, the funny one, the easy one, or the endlessly accommodating one. None of these identities are necessarily unhealthy in themselves. They are intelligent solutions created by a developing brain trying to secure connection with the people it depends upon most.
Not all adaptations, however, are soft or accommodating. Some are sharp.
A child or teenager may learn that the safest way to navigate relationships is to become defensive before anyone else can criticise them. They may explain themselves excessively, argue quickly, become suspicious of other people's intentions, hide the truth, minimise mistakes, or always be ready to justify their actions. These behaviours are not necessarily signs of a difficult personality; they may be the lingering echoes of a young person who once believed they had to protect themselves emotionally. A teenager who instinctively lies about where they have been, for example, is often responding to an anticipated consequence rather than the reality of the present moment. Over time, that same protective instinct can quietly follow them into adult life, where it may appear as unnecessary defensiveness, guardedness, or an urge to brace for attack even when no attack is coming.
The difficulty is that these adaptations often outlive their usefulness.
As adults, many of us unconsciously become different versions of ourselves around certain people. I notice it particularly in romantic relationships, but it can happen in any significant relationship. Someone may soften their opinions, minimise their needs, become hyper-capable, excessively agreeable, or endlessly attentive without realising they're stepping back into an old relational blueprint. Others may become argumentative, defensive, overly independent, or emotionally guarded. Often, they're not responding solely to the person in front of them—they're responding through a template that was formed decades earlier.
Sometimes that template reflects the version of themselves they believed would be most loved by their mother. Sometimes it reflects what they thought was needed to receive approval from their father. Sometimes it reflects the ways they learned to protect themselves from disappointment, conflict, or shame. The person changes, but the adaptation remains remarkably familiar.
Recognising this isn't about blaming our parents or assuming something went wrong. In fact, these adaptations often developed because they worked. They helped us maintain closeness, reduce conflict, avoid rejection, or feel emotionally safer. They were the best strategies a seven-year-old, a ten-year-old, or a twelve-year-old could create with the understanding they had at the time.
But adulthood offers us something childhood could not: a pause.
We can learn to notice the moment we're becoming someone we think another person will prefer, or the moment we're preparing to defend ourselves before we've even been challenged. We can ask ourselves, Is this who I genuinely am, or is this an old strategy trying to keep me safe or loved? That brief moment of awareness creates choice.
The goal isn't to reject the child who adapted. That child was resourceful, perceptive, and doing exactly what they believed was necessary. The goal is simply to allow our adult self to decide whether those adaptations are still needed.
Perhaps one of the most important aspects of psychological growth is recognising that the strategies which once protected our relationships are not always the ones that allow us to build authentic, reciprocal, and emotionally mature ones.
Awareness becomes the pause button. And within that pause lies the freedom to respond as the adult we are today, rather than the child we once had to be.
