On Attachment and Security

I've been thinking a lot about attachment these days, especially as it relates to a person's security or insecurity. I've been thinking about it mostly in the context of Baby and the person I'd like him to be, which is to say, pretty much the opposite of me. I've read things that instruct me to be baby-directed for the first three months, or the baby will be warped. I've seen things that warn of never letting a baby cry, if possible, because then they won't be secure. Ever. On the opposite end of that, I've read things that say if babies aren't left to cry, then they'll turn into dependent, drug-abusing, therapy-needing adults. Obviously I don't want my child to be warped, thinking that I don't adore him above almost all else, but I also don't want him to be clingy and dependent on me forever. I understand that's he's just four months old and has to be totally dependent on me right now, but my mind also immediately goes to the long term. The more I think about it, the more I wonder how much effect what I do right now will have on him for the long term.
I think about how my parents told me that they pretty much indulged my every whim as a baby and rarely left me to cry it out. I don't remember what I was like as a baby or toddler, but at some point in my life I lost a lot of confidence and became somewhat insecure. I can easily pinpoint other events in my life or other sentiments that could have impacted how I turned out more than my parents letting me wail in my crib for two hours.
So then, I started wondering how I became so insecure. I've never been brimming with self confidence or faith in myself, but I haven't always been as insecure as I am now. I can sort of look back and see two levels of insecurity, one that lasted until I was about 23 and didn't impact my every thought and action and didn't leave me constantly questioning my worth, my abilities, my general decent-personhood. It was more of a slightly self-deprecating insecurity, one that came out in drunk nights, often followed by bouts of uncharacteristic confidence. This insecurity often came at times like when a boy showed interest in me, or I was working towards some academic achievement. The insecurities would set up shop for a few days, wreak havoc for a bit, and then I'd get distracted and move on to something a little more productive than self-loathing.
Obviously I'm pretty far from that right now. I am constantly eaten alive by terrible thoughts of myself and my value. I compare myself and my life to others. I think back to when I was the happiest and wonder what changed and why. I curse myself for my mistakes and I curse myself for living a life that's different that I imagined. Some days, the bad days, I loathe everything about myself: my looks, my thoughts, my parenting, my faith, my actions within my marriage, my teaching, my personality, etc. On the good days, I can distract myself for stretches of several hours at a time, and I find indescribable joy and contentment in my baby, my marriage, my house. I'm lucky that there are more good days than bad ones recently, but the bad ones really suck.
For a long time now, I've wondered how I went from being this somewhat insecure, lacking confidence girl to this completely self-loathing girl. I thought and thought and couldn't figure out what happened; all I could think about was how much I liked myself and how much happier I was a few years ago, and how I am pretty much the opposite of that now. Trying to fall asleep one night a couple weeks ago, I figured it out. About three and a half to four years ago, I compromised some beliefs that were very important to me. I comprised more and more beliefs until there was nothing left to compromise. After that, the anxiety started manifesting itself in ways I couldn't have ever predicted. Then I got sad, for almost three years. Then the freakish shyness got worse and the self-loathing came out in full force. For a long time, I blamed all of that on my life going through some major transitions, but that didn't make a whole lot of sense, especially once my life stabilized some.
I'm not sure why it's taken me three years to figure this out, nor am I sure why I'm still beating myself up over my compromised beliefs. I went to Confession, I had long talks with friends, and I genuinely tried to move on. I shouldn't still be insecure; I should have reverted to the somewhat humorously insecure girl that I was, rather than rooting myself deeper and deeper into the pit of self-loathing.
I think compromising those beliefs led to my more severe insecurity because I realized I was not the person I thought I was. If I could compromise beliefs I thought were so strongly held, what else am I capable of? I truly don't want to find out.
In a way, coming to this realization that I am the most likely cause of a lot of my insecurity, has made me feel better. I'm inevitably going to warp Baby. I've been aware of this since well before he was born. I'll do something in raising him that he won't like and will choose not to replicate if he has children. But it's nice to think that if I let him cry in the car for an hour, which has happened quite a bit, it's probably not going to determine the direction our relationship takes. Probably the things I do when he's eight or ten or twelve will have more of a lasting impact. And the choices he makes as a teenager or a semi-adult or an actual adult will probably help shape how he views himself more than me giving him a bottle of formula at night or going back to work will. I hope anyway. And I guess my mother can relax now, since I've realized that it's not completely her fault that I'm the way I am. I'm sure she'll be relieved.