Have you ever noticed that in relationships, you're often hot and cold? When someone gets close, you retreat like a hedgehog—but when they walk away, you feel a quiet sense of loss. You might have an avoidant attachment style.
Think back to your childhood—did you often crave your parents’ attention? Maybe you drew something and hoped they would say, “That’s beautiful,” but instead, you got a half-hearted comment or even cold criticism like, “What’s the point of this?” Or maybe when you fell and cried for comfort, they said, “Stop crying. Get up yourself.”
Moments like these repeated themselves. Over time, you learned that your hopes were like stones tossed into a pond—there was no response. As a child, you didn’t understand self-protection. All you knew was that every time you reached for warmth, you were turned away. So your heart gradually went cold.
This repeated lack of emotional responsiveness teaches children that love isn’t safe. So you learned not to speak up, not to ask, and to wrap your feelings in layers of protection. You told yourself: “Don’t expect anything from others. No one really cares.”
That protective shell may have helped you survive back then, but it quietly grew with you.
As an adult, people with avoidant attachment often show contradictions in close relationships. They clearly long for connection, yet when others show care, they instinctively pull away. For example, when a partner asks, “Is something bothering you?”, they might reply, “No, don’t ask,” or even reject the concern outright. It’s not that they don’t want love—it’s that closeness feels too exposing.
They fear that if their partner saw their true, vulnerable self—all the hidden fears and needs—they might be abandoned. They say, “I like being alone,” but it’s not really solitude they crave. What they fear is replaying the old childhood script: opening their heart and being left behind.
This fear makes them act like someone difficult to read in relationships. They push people away, afraid their softness will be seen and rejected. But when those people really leave, they’re left wondering, “Was I too much?” Alone on the couch at night, it’s quiet outside but noisy in their heart.
Deep down, they wish someone could truly understand them. But they tell themselves: “Even if I speak up, it won’t matter. In the end, it’s always empty.” On the outside, they seem tough. But inside? Softer than anyone would guess.
The child who was never really held still longs for warmth. But the protective shell has grown so thick, they’ve forgotten how to open it. They push away people who want to care—not because they don’t like them, but because they don’t believe love can last. They’ve grown used to being on their own; it feels safer that way. Still, sometimes they envy those who can easily give and receive affection.
Can avoidant attachment change?
It might sound difficult, but change is possible—step by step. Next time someone gets close, try not to run. Pause and consider: this person isn’t your parent. Maybe they won’t disappoint you.
You can start small: share something simple with a friend, like “I’ve been feeling a bit off today.” Those small cracks in the shell might let in a little light. Letting people in doesn’t have to be a bad thing.
You don’t need to change overnight. Healing is like walking—one step at a time. You don’t have to abandon all your defenses. Just try to believe that not all love leaves.
The shadows of your childhood shaped you, but they don’t have to define you forever. You deserve to be loved—not because you’re perfect, but because you finally gave yourself the chance to feel a warmth you never got to have.
