Learning to Dance in the Rain – A Living Memoir of Attachment Alchemy
- Brainz Magazine
- Sep 10
- 4 min read
Written by Meghan Rusco, Leader and Innovator
As an Executive Contributor to Brainz Magazine, I'm passionate about exploring the frontiers of human potential and innovation.
In this article, Meghan Rusco shares her transformative journey of emotional growth and healing. Growing up with a leaky roof and anxious avoidant attachment, she learned to navigate life's storms by staying small. Through creating Cold Springs Estate, a sanctuary of earned secure attachment, she discovered the power of embracing vulnerability, inviting the rain, and offering shelter to others. This living memoir reveals the rituals and wisdom that turned trauma into a legacy of emotional fluency.
The leaky roof
I was fortunate to grow up in a home filled with love. The foundation was warm, the walls were familiar, and the people inside did their best with the tools they had. But the roof was leaky, and I often got wet when it rained.
I learned to anticipate the weather. I became a master of emotional forecasting, reading the clouds in someone’s tone, bracing for storms in silence, and patching leaks with over-functioning and self-sacrifice. I didn’t know I was anxious-avoidant, I just knew how to stay dry by staying small.
Eventually, the leaks became too much. I was soaked in unmet needs, saturated with invisible labor, and tired of pretending I didn’t mind the rain. So, I decided to build a new house.
Not just any house, but a sanctuary. A place where the roof holds, the walls breathe, and every arrival is met with warmth and ceremony. Cold Springs Estate became that house. Not just physically, but emotionally. It became the architecture of my earned secure attachment.
Here, I don’t just anticipate the weather, I invite it. I let the rain come. I trust the roof I’ve built. And when others arrive, I offer them shelter, not just from the storm, but from the stories that told them they had to weather it alone.
The mirror of over-functioning
Growing up, I became the emotional custodian of my household. I learned to soothe, to fix, and to anticipate rupture before it arrived. My nervous system was a radar for disappointment, and my body became a vault for unmet needs.
I didn’t know this was an anxious-avoidant attachment. I just thought I was “good at holding space.” But holding space without being held is not a virtue, it’s a trauma response dressed as a skillset.
I performed closeness while fearing it. I longed for intimacy while sabotaging it. I built altars for others while forgetting to light a candle for myself.
Cold springs estate: A sanctuary for rewiring attachment
When I became Legacy Choreographer and Sanctuary Keeper of Cold Springs Estate, a historic home and ceremonial campus in progress, I didn’t just inherit land. I inherited the opportunity to re-script my relational blueprint.
Here, every act of care is archived. Every arrival is ritualized. Every relationship is named, gifted, and witnessed.
Secure attachment isn’t just earned through therapy. It’s earned through lived choreography, through the way someone shows up, stays, and lets you soften.
Ritual as repatterning
I began designing rituals that mirrored the attachment I was learning to receive:
Naming ceremonies for new relationships, where each bond became a visible star in my legacy constellation.
Service exchanges where tending the land became a metaphor for tending each other.
Gemstone gifting, Apache Tears for grief, Amethyst for clarity, Herkimer Diamond for truth, each stone a symbol of emotional fluency and earned trust.
These rituals weren’t just beautiful, they were functional. They helped me feel safe enough to stay, to speak, and to receive.
Emotional fluency as legacy
Earning secure attachment isn’t about becoming perfect. It’s about becoming fluent, emotionally, relationally, ceremonially.
It’s about knowing when to name a boundary and when to offer grace. It’s about learning that rupture doesn’t mean abandonment. It’s about trusting that repair is possible.
At Cold Springs Estate, I archive every act of care. I turn milestones into dashboard tiles. I transform gatherings into rituals. I model emotional fluency not just for myself, but for my community.
Because healing is communal, and we are all walking each other home.
A lantern at the door
And so, I hold my door open.
I will hold the lantern while you sketch your own blueprint to wellness. I will witness your arrival, your rupture, your rebuilding. Together, we will rebuild our house, not just with bricks and beams, but with boundaries and belonging.
We will welcome all guests inside.
Like Rumi’s The Guest House, we will greet each emotion as a visitor, joy, sorrow, shame, delight. We will meet them at the door laughing and invite them in. Because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.
This is the architecture of earned secure attachment, not the absence of storms, but the presence of shelter. Not the perfection of the house, but the courage to keep the door open.
Cold Springs Estate is that house. And you are welcome here.
Read more from Meghan Rusco
Meghan Rusco, Leader and Innovator
A seasoned thought leader and innovator, I bring a wealth of expertise to the table, fueled by a relentless curiosity for the complex interplay between technology, psychology, and success.
