Letter from an Avoidant (DA)
Aug 11, 2019 15:28:37 GMT
via mobile
averyleigh, toorational, and 6 more like this
Post by hola on Aug 11, 2019 15:28:37 GMT
I found this letter from an Avoidant on Reddit and found it very enlightening. I hope it can shed some light on what it feels like to be Avoidant. Maybe some of the NEW Posters here can understand better by reading this:
Reddit Letter from an Avoidant
To explain, here are some things about me: I fear intimacy. I am withdrawn emotionally. I am often called reserved and cold. I am VERY quick to end a relationship, and I don't feel much after. I have initiated all my break-ups, and generally been okay. I've never felt heartbroken. But here's the thing: I'm still in pain! It's not heartbreak, but it's pain.
It's not that I don't WANT relationships and intimacy! I'm good at blocking out feelings and I tend to experience all my negative emotions as a vague rootless anxiety or malaise. But when I let the actual feelings seep through, there's so much loneliness under there. It's almost unbearable. I crave close connections with others, but when a connection grows I become afraid and severe it. Often this fear doesn't even manifest as fear - for example, I feel it as anger at the new friend or relationship. I tell myself I have very high standards for partners or friends, but that's not the real reason. It took me a long time to work this out and realize the connections between my behavior and my loneliness.
And when the desire for closeness emerges, I have no outlets that I trust. There are people in my life who probably would listen to me and be there for me, but I am scared to try it out. That's intensely painful. When I do manage to be vulnerable with a partner or friend, I sort of recoil afterwards and immediately pull away for up to several weeks. Most securely attached people are able to recognize this bullshit and leave me, so I've dated a lot of insecurely attached people (and I find these people HELLISH to date, their needs for intimacy make me feel like I'm choking). But I do enjoy some level of closeness, so I've burned through a lot of short-term relationships and been distant and cold in all my long-term relationships.
This brings me to my last point: I put up a lot of walls. But walls don't actually make me much safer. I've been learning that emotional walls actually deter healthy, normal people. These people see my prickliness and boundaries and conclude that I don't want their company - a very healthy reaction to my behavior. But some people see my walls and boundaries as an exciting challenge. Or they are so insecurely attached that to them, EVERYONE feels like they have walls up. These people are boundary pushers who insist on becoming close to me anyways, and often do real damage once close to me. Insecurity can make people be manipulative and controlling, and I've dated a lot of those people.
If I was perfect at blocking my emotions then yeah, this avoidant attachment would be fine. But I'm not perfect at it, so I'm often in serious emotional pain (and I use substances to cope, which isn't good). Another thing about me: I'm GOOD at hiding pain. I hide it from myself, I hide it from the world. People probably never guess that I'm hurting. I am successful, professional, and good at seeming warm and friendly. If you're out there polling dismissive avoidant people about their lives, they will probably tell you they have no issues and are fine. If you asked me in person, I'd do the same.
And yeah, for me my issues come from childhood and adolescent abuse. That's a massive, foundational pain that needs to be honored, not glossed over. I've been in deep pain that I didn't realize was pain because it was a blur of substance use and random sex and I thought I was having fun. I WAS having fun, in a way, and I have good memories from that time, but it was all stemming from that sad place.
Because of this, it took me a long time to realize that I had an issue. I felt so superior to everyone I knew who was constantly getting dragged down by feelings and relationships and who were struggling to set boundaries with their loved ones. But these people have strengths that I don't, and while my struggle is different, it's still a struggle. By nature it's an isolated struggle.
Reddit Letter from an Avoidant
To explain, here are some things about me: I fear intimacy. I am withdrawn emotionally. I am often called reserved and cold. I am VERY quick to end a relationship, and I don't feel much after. I have initiated all my break-ups, and generally been okay. I've never felt heartbroken. But here's the thing: I'm still in pain! It's not heartbreak, but it's pain.
It's not that I don't WANT relationships and intimacy! I'm good at blocking out feelings and I tend to experience all my negative emotions as a vague rootless anxiety or malaise. But when I let the actual feelings seep through, there's so much loneliness under there. It's almost unbearable. I crave close connections with others, but when a connection grows I become afraid and severe it. Often this fear doesn't even manifest as fear - for example, I feel it as anger at the new friend or relationship. I tell myself I have very high standards for partners or friends, but that's not the real reason. It took me a long time to work this out and realize the connections between my behavior and my loneliness.
And when the desire for closeness emerges, I have no outlets that I trust. There are people in my life who probably would listen to me and be there for me, but I am scared to try it out. That's intensely painful. When I do manage to be vulnerable with a partner or friend, I sort of recoil afterwards and immediately pull away for up to several weeks. Most securely attached people are able to recognize this bullshit and leave me, so I've dated a lot of insecurely attached people (and I find these people HELLISH to date, their needs for intimacy make me feel like I'm choking). But I do enjoy some level of closeness, so I've burned through a lot of short-term relationships and been distant and cold in all my long-term relationships.
This brings me to my last point: I put up a lot of walls. But walls don't actually make me much safer. I've been learning that emotional walls actually deter healthy, normal people. These people see my prickliness and boundaries and conclude that I don't want their company - a very healthy reaction to my behavior. But some people see my walls and boundaries as an exciting challenge. Or they are so insecurely attached that to them, EVERYONE feels like they have walls up. These people are boundary pushers who insist on becoming close to me anyways, and often do real damage once close to me. Insecurity can make people be manipulative and controlling, and I've dated a lot of those people.
If I was perfect at blocking my emotions then yeah, this avoidant attachment would be fine. But I'm not perfect at it, so I'm often in serious emotional pain (and I use substances to cope, which isn't good). Another thing about me: I'm GOOD at hiding pain. I hide it from myself, I hide it from the world. People probably never guess that I'm hurting. I am successful, professional, and good at seeming warm and friendly. If you're out there polling dismissive avoidant people about their lives, they will probably tell you they have no issues and are fine. If you asked me in person, I'd do the same.
And yeah, for me my issues come from childhood and adolescent abuse. That's a massive, foundational pain that needs to be honored, not glossed over. I've been in deep pain that I didn't realize was pain because it was a blur of substance use and random sex and I thought I was having fun. I WAS having fun, in a way, and I have good memories from that time, but it was all stemming from that sad place.
Because of this, it took me a long time to realize that I had an issue. I felt so superior to everyone I knew who was constantly getting dragged down by feelings and relationships and who were struggling to set boundaries with their loved ones. But these people have strengths that I don't, and while my struggle is different, it's still a struggle. By nature it's an isolated struggle.