They didn’t yell. They didn’t gaslight. They just… didn’t show up. And somehow that felt harder to accept; it had become far easier to let go, and even not entertain, a-holes in the first place. But to be connected to someone lovely and kind, but who I could never quite connect to securely, was more heartbreaking. To feel closer to something healthy and still not be able to have it, was far more painful.
These avoidants I’d been dating were not bad people. They just weren’t able to be present. Every so often they’d be triggered into absence, and it would begin to feel awful all over again.
This particular one had more or less invited me to live with them abroad, where they’d accepted a new job to start later that year. I finally felt like I’d met someone who wanted a real, calm, day-to-day relationship. It took me a while to adjust to this idea of moving, but things were going so well…
Until I told them I loved them. To me it felt like I was catching up to their big plans for our future. This felt like a small step to meeting them where they were; wanting to live together. I’d almost accidentally said it to them several times, and it was a joy to eventually say it when I was ready.
It was what blew up the whole relationship. Four weeks later, I ended it. They told me they couldn’t accept love as it was too triggering to them. I was so sad it hadn’t worked out and that I’d somehow chosen yet another avoidant. How had this happened again??
I learnt that it wasn’t my fault; it was just the next thing in myself that I needed to address. I realised that avoidance isn’t abuse, but it can still starve your nervous system. And when you’ve survived chaos, deprivation can feel deceptively calm.
What was the moment that made you go, ‘Wait… this isn’t abuse, but it still doesn’t feel right’? I’d love to hear your story.