Childhood Emotional Neglect in Driven Women: The Invisible Injury Beneath the Impressive Life

Family of Origin & Childhood Trauma • May 04, 2026

Opening the Door to an Invisible Injury

The scent of polished leather, the steady tap of keys on a laptop, the ambient hum of a bright, bustling office—these form the backdrop of Alex’s meticulously ordered world. She moves through her days with a poised determination, a senior engineer commanding respect without a word out of place.

Meetings unfold with her calm authority, presentations are delivered with precision, and her team thrives under her steady gaze. Yet beneath the polished veneer, Alex feels a quiet ache, a persistent emptiness she cannot seem to fill. It is not fear of failure or impostor syndrome shadowing her steps.

It is something more subtle, more elusive: a hollow space inside, seeded in childhood, where her emotional needs were overlooked, even as she learned to appear whole.

Alex’s experience, though deeply personal, echoes the stories of many women who carry the weight of childhood emotional neglect beneath lives marked by accomplishment.

Their stories are often invisible, even to themselves, because the wound is not a visible scar or a shouted trauma but a quiet absence—the absence of attunement, validation, and emotional nourishment during their formative years.

This absence shapes their nervous systems, their relationships, and their very sense of self in ways that can feel both baffling and deeply isolating.

This article invites you into a deeper understanding of childhood emotional neglect (CEN) as it manifests in women who have poured their energies into achievement and caretaking, often at great cost to their internal worlds.

We will explore the clinical definitions, the neurobiological imprinting, the relational patterns, and the systemic contexts that frame this invisible injury. We will also offer a trauma-informed healing map designed to support women in reclaiming their emotional lives, reconnecting with their bodies, and building identities organized around authentic desires rather than survival.

What Is Childhood Emotional Neglect? A Clinical and Relational Definition

Childhood emotional neglect is a form of developmental trauma characterized not by acts of commission—such as abuse or aggression—but by acts of omission: the failure to provide consistent, attuned emotional care and validation during critical developmental periods. Unlike physical neglect, which involves deprivation of basic needs like food, shelter, or safety, emotional neglect is the absence or insufficiency of emotional responsiveness, empathy, and nurturing.

Dr. Jonice Webb, a clinical psychologist and pioneer in CEN research, describes it as “the absence of what should have been there”—the emotional support and recognition that form the bedrock of a child’s emerging selfhood. This absence is often invisible to others and can remain unconscious to the child and adult alike.

The child learns early that expressing feelings does not elicit comfort or safety but may bring dismissal, indifference, or confusion. Consequently, they begin to disown or suppress their own emotional experiences to survive.

Psychologically, CEN creates a fundamental disruption in the development of self-awareness, emotion regulation, and relational trust. It is a failure in the caregiving environment that communicates, often implicitly, “Your feelings don’t matter,” or “You are not worthy of being seen.” These messages, internalized over time, embed in the nervous system and relational blueprint.

The Nervous System and Attachment: How Emotional Neglect Gets Wired In

The human nervous system is exquisitely attuned to the caregiving environment. From infancy, the developing brain and autonomic nervous system rely on consistent, sensitive attunement to calibrate their responses to safety and threat. Attachment theory, pioneered by John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth, emphasizes the caregiver’s role as a secure base from which the child explores the world and develops a coherent sense of self.

In cases of emotional neglect, the caregiver may be physically present but emotionally unavailable or inconsistent—what some clinicians term a “relational blackout.” The child’s nervous system, deprived of reliable cues of safety and emotional validation, learns to adapt through survival strategies that include fawn (people-pleasing), freeze (emotional numbing or dissociation), flight (avoidance), or fight (anger and defensiveness). These responses are neither pathological nor voluntary but adaptive efforts to maintain connection or minimize pain.

Neuroscientist Allan Schore’s research illuminates how early attachment experiences shape the right hemisphere of the brain, which governs emotional regulation, social cognition, and implicit memory.

When emotional needs are unmet, the brain encodes these experiences as somatic, procedural memories—bodily sensations and unconscious patterns of emotional response that persist into adulthood (Teicher & Samson, 2016 [7]).

The autonomic nervous system’s repeated activation under neglect conditions produces an allostatic load, a wear-and-tear on bodily systems that can predispose to chronic illness and emotional dysregulation (Danese & McEwen, 2012 [8]).

Women like Alex often report a chronic sense of emptiness, numbness, or disconnection from their own feelings—symptoms that reflect this neurobiological imprinting. The brain’s wiring for emotional attunement is incomplete, making it difficult to recognize, label, or express internal states. This neurobiological deficit translates into relational challenges, as the capacity to seek and receive comfort is compromised.

Composite Vignettes: The Hidden Faces of Childhood Emotional Neglect

Christine: The Lawyer Who Cannot Rest

Christine, a gifted corporate attorney, is a mother of two and a partner at her firm. She is relentless in her pursuit of excellence, working long hours and managing her family with exacting precision. Yet beneath her professional success lies a deep exhaustion and a persistent sense of not being enough.

Raised in a household where achievement was prized above emotional expression, Christine’s feelings were routinely dismissed as distractions. Vulnerability was equated with weakness, and her emotional needs were unspoken and unmet.

Her nervous system adapted by suppressing vulnerability and cultivating emotional self-sufficiency. Christine finds herself caught in a cycle of caretaking others while neglecting her own inner life. Despite external success, she feels hollow and disconnected—symptoms aligned with Simon et al.’s (2024) findings on emotional neglect and impaired adult emotion regulation [3].

Alex: The Engineer’s Invisible Ache

Alex’s story opens this article. As a senior engineer, she is admired for her competence and calm under pressure. Yet she struggles to name what feels missing: a deep, persistent emptiness beneath the surface. Her parents were emotionally distant, prioritizing achievement and stability over warmth or attunement. Alex learned early that her feelings were invisible or inconvenient.

This early environment left Alex’s nervous system stuck in a freeze response—shutting down affect to survive emotional neglect. She excels professionally but experiences chronic self-doubt and difficulty trusting others. Her internal experience is one of fragmentation: a competent exterior housing a vulnerable, undernourished self.

Casey: The Caretaker Who Lost Herself

Casey, a nonprofit director, grew up in a family where roles were reversed—she became a young carer for her emotionally overwhelmed mother. This parentification (Hendricks et al., 2021 [10]) meant Casey’s own feelings were sidelined in service of family survival. Emotional neglect intertwined with role reversal, leaving Casey with a persistent sense of guilt and shame (Zaccari et al., 2020 [11]) about prioritizing her own needs.

Her nervous system learned to operate in hypervigilance, constantly scanning for cues of others’ distress while ignoring her own. Despite a warm relational style, Casey struggles with boundaries and emotional exhaustion.

Clinical Perspectives and the Research Landscape

The landmark Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) Study by Felitti et al. (1998) [1] brought long-overdue attention to the pervasive impact of childhood trauma, including neglect, on adult health outcomes. While early ACE research emphasized abuse, subsequent work has foregrounded neglect as an equally potent predictor of mental health challenges.

Hughes et al.’s (2017) systematic review [2] and Grummitt et al.’s (2021) epidemiological study [4] quantified the association between childhood emotional neglect and adult depression, anxiety, substance use, and suicidality. Simon et al. (2024) [3] specifically highlight the centrality of emotion regulation difficulties as a key pathway linking neglect to adult psychopathology.

Bessel van der Kolk’s The Body Keeps the Score (2014) deepens our understanding by illustrating how trauma—including neglect—is embodied, stored outside conscious awareness, and manifests in dysregulated autonomic nervous system states. This somatic imprinting challenges conventional talk therapy approaches and suggests the importance of somatic and relational interventions.

Karatzias et al. (2017) [12] distinguish complex posttraumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD), often arising from chronic relational trauma including neglect, from PTSD related to discrete traumatic events. This distinction is clinically important for women whose symptoms include chronic shame, relational difficulties, and affect dysregulation.

Both/And: Holding the Paradox of Strength and Vulnerability

Women shaped by childhood emotional neglect often embody a paradox: they are both profoundly capable and deeply vulnerable. Alex’s engineering acumen and leadership coexist with a persistent inner void. Christine’s legal brilliance interlaces with exhaustion and self-criticism.

Richard Schwartz’s Internal Family Systems (IFS) framework [5] offers a healing lens here, inviting women to relate compassionately to all parts of themselves—the driven protector, the vulnerable child, the anxious overseer—without judgment. These parts developed as survival mechanisms, not flaws, and healing involves welcoming and befriending them rather than silencing or rejecting.

The both/and mindset dissolves false binaries of success versus brokenness, strength versus weakness, and opens the way to integration and wholeness. It acknowledges that vulnerability is not antithetical to power but foundational to authentic presence and connection.

The Systemic Lens: Family, Culture, and Societal Scripts

Childhood emotional neglect is embedded within larger family systems and cultural narratives. Salvador Minuchin’s structural family therapy model [6] reminds us that patterns of emotional unavailability and neglect often function to preserve family homeostasis, even at the cost of individual wellbeing.

Christine’s immigrant family, steeped in cultural values where emotional expression was equated with weakness, transmitted implicit rules that prioritized stoicism and achievement. Casey’s family unconsciously maintained roles that silenced her needs to manage parental distress.

Societal expectations of women—to be endlessly resilient, nurturing, and capable—exacerbate these patterns. The cultural mandate to “do it all” can reinforce the fawn response, perpetuating cycles of self-neglect and emotional invisibility.

Understanding these systemic and cultural dimensions expands the lens beyond individual pathology to relational and societal responsibility. It also validates that healing requires not only intrapersonal work but relational and cultural shifts.

A Practical Healing Map: Fixing the Foundations

For women ready to engage with the invisible injury of childhood emotional neglect, a trauma-informed, phase-oriented approach like Fixing the Foundations offers a coherent, paced pathway to recovery. This model integrates attachment theory, neuroscience, somatic psychology, and relational approaches to support nervous system regulation, relational repair, and identity reconstruction.

Phase 1: Safety & Stabilization

This foundational phase focuses on recognizing and soothing autonomic nervous system dysregulation. Women learn to identify somatic cues of stress and safety, develop grounding practices, and cultivate a felt sense of safety in body and environment. This phase draws from Sensorimotor Psychotherapy (Ogden & Fisher) and polyvagal theory.

Phase 2: Your Relational Blueprint

Women explore their internalized attachment patterns—how early caregiver responses shaped expectations and relational strategies. This phase involves naming and mapping these patterns to increase self-awareness and relational insight.

Phase 3: Attachment & the Nervous System

Building on relational awareness, this phase deepens understanding of nervous system responses and begins interrupting maladaptive patterns like fawning, freezing, or avoidance. It invites embodied exploration of internal states.

Phase 4: Grief & Mourning

This poignant phase acknowledges the profound losses embedded in emotional neglect—the missing attunement, the unavailable caregiver, the lost childhood emotional safety. Naming these losses and mourning them is vital to healing.

Phase 5: Cognitive & Emotional Restructuring

Women challenge internalized negative beliefs and cultivate emotional agility, learning to tolerate and regulate feelings previously disowned. This phase incorporates cognitive-behavioral and mindfulness-based techniques.

Phase 6: Relational Skill-Building

New relational skills are practiced—setting boundaries, expressing vulnerability, seeking support, and balancing self-care with caretaking. This phase fosters healthier connection patterns.

Phase 7: Integration & Forward

The final phase supports embodying a renewed identity organized around authentic desires rather than survival wounds. It invites forward movement with resilience, curiosity, and self-compassion.

This healing map is elaborated on the Fixing the Foundations page and integrates modalities including IFS (Schwartz), relational-cultural therapy (Perel, hooks), and somatic approaches.

Why the Impressive Life Can Hide the Old Deprivation

One reason childhood emotional neglect can remain so hidden in driven women is that competence itself becomes the camouflage. The child who was not asked, “What are you feeling?” often discovers that she can still be praised for being useful, reasonable, quiet, excellent, mature, or low-maintenance.

If sadness does not bring comfort but a perfect report card brings attention, the nervous system learns an efficient lesson: need is risky; performance is safer . This is not vanity. It is adaptation. The child is not trying to become impressive.

She is trying to stay connected to the people on whom she depends.

In adulthood, that adaptation can look enviable from the outside. She anticipates problems before they become visible. She notices the emotional weather in a conference room before anyone else has named it.

She can hold a crisis, deliver under pressure, remember the pediatrician appointment, make the mortgage decision, answer the late-night client email, and still show up the next morning with clean hair and a coherent plan.

What she may not know is that the very capacities others admire may be organized around an old terror of being too much, too needy, too inconvenient, or too dependent.

This is why so many women arrive in therapy or coaching not saying, “I was emotionally neglected,” but saying something more private: “I should be happier.” “Nothing is wrong, but I feel empty.” “I do not know what I want.” “I can take care of everyone else, but when someone asks what I need, I go blank.” “I have a beautiful life, and I feel guilty that I cannot feel it.” These sentences are diagnostically important in the broad human sense, even when they are not formal diagnostic criteria. They point toward the legacy of a childhood in which the external self developed faster than the inner self could be received.

For Christine, this showed up most painfully on Sunday nights. She would stand at the kitchen island after the children were asleep, the dishwasher humming, her laptop open, the blue light on her face.

Her husband would ask if she wanted to watch a show, and she would snap, “I have too much to do.” What she meant, but could not say, was: “If I stop moving, I will feel the loneliness I have outrun all week.” She did not yet have language for the way her body equated stillness with danger.

In childhood, stillness meant noticing that no one was coming toward her emotionally. Motion became anesthesia.

A trauma-informed lens helps us see that emotional neglect often creates not only painful beliefs but also procedural patterns . The body learns sequences: scan the room, predict the need, suppress the feeling, produce the result, recover alone, repeat.

Procedural memory is not stored like a narrative one can simply edit by deciding to think differently. It lives in posture, timing, breath, muscle tension, digestive patterns, sleep, and the speed with which a woman says “I’m fine” before she has checked whether that is true.

This is why insight can be both necessary and insufficient. A woman may intellectually understand that her childhood lacked attunement while still finding herself unable to receive care, tolerate rest, or ask directly for reassurance.

The clinical task, then, is not to shame the competent adult for being competent. It is to help her notice whether competence has become compulsory. There is a difference between choosing excellence from freedom and performing excellence to prevent abandonment.

There is a difference between loving one’s work and needing work to organize one’s worth. There is a difference between being generous and being unable to survive another person’s disappointment. The work begins by making those distinctions slowly enough that the nervous system can participate.

The Inner Logic of “I Shouldn’t Need Anything”

Many women with childhood emotional neglect carry an internal rule that sounds like maturity but functions like exile: “I should not need anything.” This rule may have been reinforced by families that valued toughness, spiritualized sacrifice, intellectualized feelings, or used practical provision as evidence that emotional needs were unreasonable.

A parent might have worked hard, paid for school, kept the house orderly, and still been unable to notice despair in a child’s eyes.

The adult child may then feel disloyal naming neglect because there was food on the table, tuition paid, birthday gifts wrapped, and no obvious villain in the family story.

This is one of the tenderest complications of CEN. The injury often coexists with genuine parental effort. A mother may have been depressed, overworked, traumatized, under-supported, or socialized to distrust her own emotional life. A father may have provided materially while having no internal map for tenderness.

A family may have loved the child and still failed to know her. That failure matters. Love that is never translated into attunement can leave the child emotionally hungry even in a home that looked functional from the street.

The phrase “I shouldn’t need anything” also protects against grief. If a woman can convince herself she did not need comfort, then she does not have to feel how lonely it was not to receive it.

If she can frame her childhood as “fine,” she does not have to face the ache of what was missing. If she can keep improving, optimizing, reading, earning, pleasing, and managing, she does not have to sit with the young part of herself that wanted someone to say, “Come here.

Tell me what happened. I care about how this felt to you.”

In this way, the healing process often includes a delayed encounter with legitimate dependency. This can be frightening for women who have built entire identities around not being a burden. In therapy, coaching, or a structured course such as Fixing the Foundations , the first repair is often not dramatic emotional catharsis.

It may be learning to notice thirst before dehydration, fatigue before collapse, resentment before the explosion, sadness before numbness, or desire before obligation overrides it. These are modest skills with profound developmental meaning. They teach the body that the self is allowed to register.

Alex initially found this almost humiliating. A senior engineer who could architect complex systems felt irritated by a therapist asking her to pause and identify what she felt in her chest. “I don’t see how this helps,” she said. But over time she began to recognize that her irritation was a protector.

It guarded the younger shame of not knowing how to feel without immediately solving. As she practiced, she noticed tightness behind her sternum before difficult meetings, heaviness in her limbs after conversations with her mother, and a small brightening when she spent time with friends who did not need her to perform.

These data points became the beginning of self-trust.

What Repair Looks Like in Real Relationships

Healing childhood emotional neglect is not only an internal process. Because the wound happened in relationship, repair must eventually include new relational experiences. This does not mean confronting every family member, disclosing everything to a partner, or forcing vulnerability before there is enough safety. It means gradually building relationships in which the adult self no longer has to disappear to belong.

In marriage, this may mean replacing indirect tests with direct bids. A neglected child often learns not to ask directly because asking created disappointment. The adult may therefore hope her partner will “just know,” then feel devastated when they do not.

Repair might sound like, “I am noticing that I want comfort, and I am embarrassed to ask. Could you sit with me for ten minutes without trying to fix it?” That sentence can feel enormous. It asks the nervous system to risk what was once unsafe: visible need.

At work, repair may involve noticing where over-functioning is being rewarded at the cost of health. The emotionally neglected professional often becomes the person who absorbs ambiguity, smooths conflict, mentors everyone, and makes leadership look effortless. The organization may praise this while quietly depending on her unbounded labor.

Healing may require saying, “I can take this on if we move another priority,” or “I am not available for a meeting after 6 p.m.,” or “I need clearer decision rights before I can be accountable for this outcome.” These are not merely productivity strategies. They are attachment interventions in adult form.

They teach the body that connection does not require self-erasure.

In parenting, repair may involve grieving and choice. A mother who was emotionally neglected may feel flooded when her child has big feelings. She may want to be patient, attuned, and cycle-breaking, yet find herself freezing, over-explaining, placating, or becoming sharp. This does not mean she is failing.

It may mean her child’s aliveness is touching the places where her own aliveness was not welcomed.

Parenting Past the Pattern can be a meaningful secondary path because it frames parenting not as performance but as practice: noticing the inherited response, regulating enough to choose, repairing when needed, and allowing both parent and child to be human.

The deeper repair is not becoming a person with no needs, no triggers, and no history. It is becoming a person who can stay in relationship with herself when needs, triggers, and history arise.

It is the shift from “My feelings are evidence that I am too much” to “My feelings are information.” It is the shift from “If I need comfort, I am weak” to “Comfort is part of how mammals regulate.” It is the shift from “I must earn my place here” to “Belonging that requires disappearance is not belonging.”

A More Specific First Month of Practice

Because driven women often turn healing into another project, the first month of recovery from childhood emotional neglect should be deliberately gentle and concrete. The goal is not to excavate every memory or overhaul every relationship. The goal is to build a small daily evidence base that the self can be noticed without being punished.

In week one, practice emotional naming without analysis. Once or twice a day, pause for ninety seconds and complete three sentences: “My body feels…,” “The emotion closest to the surface is…,” and “One thing I might need is….” If no emotion appears, write, “blank,” “numb,” or “I don’t know.” Those are not failures. For many emotionally neglected people, “I don’t know” is the doorway, not the wall.

In week two, track the difference between desire and obligation. Before saying yes, ask, “If disappointment were not dangerous, what would I choose?” You do not have to act on the answer immediately. At first, simply gathering the data is powerful. Emotional neglect often severs access to preference; noticing preference is a form of reconnection.

In week three, identify one safe person and make one low-stakes bid for support. This might be telling a friend, “I had a hard day and do not need advice, but I would love a kind voice note,” or telling a partner, “I am practicing asking more directly.

Could you hug me before we talk logistics?” Keep the bid small enough that your nervous system can survive both a yes and a no.

In week four, practice one boundary that protects energy rather than responding to crisis. Many neglected children learn boundaries only after depletion becomes unbearable. A repair-oriented boundary might be leaving work on time once, declining a nonessential favor, postponing a family call, or taking twenty minutes alone before transitioning into parenting.

The point is not perfection. The point is learning that protection does not have to wait until resentment is the only fuel left.

This kind of practice may look ordinary. It is not. For a nervous system shaped by emotional absence, these are acts of developmental repair. They are how a woman begins to build an inner home sturdy enough to hold her own life.

Toward a Warm Communal Close

For women like Alex, Christine, and Casey, the journey from invisible injury to embodied healing is neither swift nor easy, but it is profoundly possible. Beneath the impressive life lies a tender, aching human story—a story that deserves acknowledgment, care, and transformation. You are not alone in this experience, and your worth is not measured by what you do but by who you are beneath the striving.

May you find spaces that honor your complexity, communities that witness your truth, and practices that gently nurture your nervous system back to safety. This path invites grief and courage, but it also holds the promise of greater freedom and authentic connection. Your story matters, your feelings matter, and you are enough—simply as you are.

For more guidance and support, explore the Fixing the Foundations program or connect through Therapy with Annie. Healing is a relational journey, and you deserve to travel it with kindness and expert care.

Related Reading and Research

• Felitti VJ, Anda RF, Nordenberg D, Williamson DF, Spitz AM, Edwards V, et al. Relationship of childhood abuse and household dysfunction to many of the leading causes of death in adults. The Adverse Childhood Experiences Study. American Journal of Preventive Medicine. 1998. PMID: 9635069. DOI: 10.1016/S0749-3797(98)00017-8.
• Hughes K, Bellis MA, Hardcastle KA, Sethi D, Butchart A, Mikton C, et al. The effect of multiple adverse childhood experiences on health: a systematic review and meta-analysis. The Lancet Public Health. 2017. PMID: 29253477. DOI: 10.1016/S2468-2667(17)30118-4.
• Simon E, Raats M, Erens B. Neglecting the impact of childhood neglect: A scoping review of the relation between child neglect and emotion regulation in adulthood. Child Abuse & Neglect. 2024. PMID: 38733836. DOI: 10.1016/j.chiabu.2024.106802.
• Schwartz R. No Bad Parts: Healing Trauma and Restoring Wholeness with the Internal Family Systems Model. [Referenced conceptually]
• Minuchin S. Family Therapy and Structural Family Therapy. [Referenced conceptually]
• Teicher MH, Samson JA. Annual Research Review: Enduring neurobiological effects of childhood abuse and neglect. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry. 2016. PMID: 26831814. DOI: 10.1111/jcpp.12507.
• Danese A, McEwen BS. Adverse childhood experiences, allostasis, allostatic load, and age-related disease. Physiology & Behavior. 2012. PMID: 21888923. DOI: 10.1016/j.physbeh.2011.08.019.
• Huh HJ, Kim KH, Lee HK, Chae JH. The relationship between childhood trauma and the severity of adulthood depression and anxiety symptoms in a clinical sample. Psychiatry Investigation. 2017. PMID: 28189964.
• Hendricks BA, Vo JB, Dionne-Odom JN, Bakitas MA. Parentification Among Young Carers: A Concept Analysis. Child & Adolescent Social Work Journal. 2021. PMID: 38828384. DOI: 10.1007/s10560-021-00784-7.
• Zaccari V, Aceto M, Mancini F. A Systematic Review of Instruments to Assess Guilt in Children and Adolescents. Frontiers in Psychiatry. 2020. PMID: 33362597. DOI: 10.3389/fpsyt.2020.573488 (verify DOI).
• Karatzias T, Shevlin M, Fyvie C, Hyland P, Efthymiadou E, Wilson D, et al. Evidence of distinct profiles of posttraumatic stress disorder and complex posttraumatic stress disorder based on the new ICD-11 Trauma Questionnaire. Journal of Affective Disorders. 2017. PMID: 27723542. DOI: 10.1016/j.jad.2017.05.066.

References

Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

1. van der Kolk BA, Wang JB, Yehuda R, Bedrosian L, Coker AR, Harrison C, et al. Effects of MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD on self-experience. PLoS One. 2024;19(1):e0295926. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0295926. PMID: 38198456.
2. Schore AN. The Interpersonal Neurobiology of Intersubjectivity. Front Psychol. 2021;12:648616. doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2021.648616. PMID: 33959077.
3. Bowlby J. Attachment and loss: retrospect and prospect. Am J Orthopsychiatry. 1982;52(4):664-678. doi:10.1111/j.1939-0025.1982.tb01456.x. PMID: 7148988.
4. Brenner EG, Schwartz RC, Becker C. Development of the internal family systems model: Honoring contributions from family systems therapies. Fam Process. 2023;62(4):1290-1306. doi:10.1111/famp.12943. PMID: 37924221.

Books & Cultural Sources (Chicago Author-Date)

• Ainsworth, Mary D. Salter. Patterns of attachment. Erlbaum, 1978.

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