Fearful Avoidant

When I was putting my book together, I found a poem I had written shortly after Navy Guy broke up with me. I was talking to a number of avoidant men and feeling all kinds of sympathy for him when I read my own words and saw avoidance in me too.

Nothing But Now

When I first saw you I dropped my phone
Something in your eyes said trouble
I was afraid you would break my heart
But I didn’t know how hard you’d fumble 

If I’m really honest with myself
I was afraid that I would break yours
Because hard as I love, everything above
Said it’s me who’s always at war

I never really know what I want
This moment right here is all I’ve got
There’s nothing I can promise but now
So nothing you were
Could have ever been sure
I wouldn’t have left you anyhow

I knew it was going to be unhealthy for us to try to force something back then. I didn’t want it to be that way, but I knew we would hurt each other if we didn’t both get some more healing done. It wasn’t just him. I had issues of my own I didn’t know were dormant and waiting to be triggered. He may have felt it. He might be the only person whose intuition I trust as much as my own.

Back then I didn’t want a relationship. I wanted “spicy friends”, someone to help me feel safe in the bedroom again, and if I was lucky, someone to be an actual friend too. It became so much more than that, so quickly, it scared me. The chemistry wasn’t just physical—it was almost childlike. The energy between us was playful and fun, and at times, like we may have actually been kids together in some other life.

I felt intuitively that his soul was significant to me but the idea of soulmates was off my radar after leaving Christianity and growing more cynical about spiritual ideas. It still makes me cringe to think I’m actually attached to someone on that level. It’s too weird. I know, woo woo Nat is saying soulmates are weird. Honestly, I feel like this is another subtle sign of avoidance. I don’t want to believe in that sort of thing because I don’t want to be attached to someone.

All I know for sure is that I saw myself in him and that’s why I was drawn to him. He matched my energy and he showed me who I am. What I couldn’t see in myself I saw in him. Things I didn’t know about myself I discovered through him. In my desire to learn about him and what makes him who he is, I ended up learning about my own childhood and things that had been driving my own behavior in relationships in my past.

I was a runner

Another poem I wrote that did make it into my book is Mattress Mike (at the end of this post). I told the story about how I was starting to fall for him, but I was too young still for the kind of relationship he was perfect for. He was on his way to being a family man. He was in college, had a good job, lots of family and friends for support, and I was a party girl with party friends, several odd jobs, and no career prospects. I was sure I would hold him back. I left him abruptly and never saw him again.

When I was in high school and even more in my post-college-dropout years, I had a habit of coming on strong and then backing off just as quickly when he got excited about me. I remember going to see Runaway Bride and having a lot of mixed feelings about it. I completely related to her, but I also wanted her to finally do it right. I hoped I could too one day.

I had a desperate need to be loved, but often it was just a need to be seen and heard. I had spent most of my childhood suppressing the parts of me that were uncomfortable for others and I wanted someone to see me and want all of me. I would cling to someone for awhile, right up until he started to get serious and then I’d panic. It wasn’t fun anymore. I would lose my independence. I would be forced to grow up too soon. I would miss out on fun with my friends. He would eventually see me the way everyone else does and he would change his mind. Buyer’s remorse was my real fear.

I wanted to stay

I had a bit of a wake up call last year when I saw an avoidant woman talk about a moment she had in which she knew she wanted to heal for good. She had finally met someone who made her want to stay. She genuinely didn’t want to run this time and I resonated with her. That’s what I felt. I was terrified of what I was feeling for B. I knew he didn’t want a relationship either, but something about him made me want to face that fear. I wanted to fight my fear to be with him.

But he didn’t want that. So I had to pivot and start working on healing the loss of him. I shared the whole thing here and on TikTok in April through the summer of 2023. I managed not to run this time. I stayed and felt all of my feelings. It almost destroyed me.

I was easy going and aloof on TikTok (I had wallowed over my ex-husband, no one wanted to see me do that again), but I cried myself to sleep for months after the last time we talked in June. I had headaches from crying so much. I felt like I was losing a part of myself, and in a way I was. I was losing the version of me that was full of fear, the part of me that was just like him. I think that was my real fear back then, that I would lose the me that connected with him.

Although I had “moved on” from our relationship, I still had feelings for him. I still do, though they’ve moved slowly into a more platonic space. It’s interesting as I’ve developed a few other platonic friendships this past year. It’s an even deeper love than romantic love. There’s a loyalty to it that crosses space and time and is wholly unconditional. My friends are my friends, no matter where they live or when I last saw them. We’ll pick up where we left off with no expectation, no pressure. I like him in this space.

Feeling all those feelings that year was so important for healing, not just from a breakup, but from all the shit that caused me to get attached and then run. Every time I cried over B, I would write a poem or have a dream—or even get a vision—that would point to something in my childhood that was tied to the feelings. The pain was a compass, showing me the way toward old wounds. One at a time, I opened Schrödinger's box to find my heart both alive and dead depending on what day it was and whether I was running or fighting.

A tarot card reading that summer put me on my path, telling me “You are love.” I was still thinking about him every day, but it wasn’t wishing, hoping or pining anymore. It was more curiosity, “I wonder what he’s doing right now.” And sometimes it was, “Shit, I can’t send him this meme, I’m sure he could use the laugh.” And then, “I hope someone is making him laugh.”

In letting go of him in my 3D, I was sharing who he was with TikTok and other people were able to learn from us. Avoidants and those who love them have told me what a difference it has made for them to hear about our story, to know we can still have a beautiful loving experience with someone even if it’s not forever.

Sharing him with others helped me heal the part of me that had a hard time letting go. I was able to hold onto a part of him awhile longer—the part of him that was me too. And some of the parts of him that are so much better than me.

So as I navigate love today, I’m learning to stay grounded in my body and not stay in my head for too long. When I start to feel the urge to cut ties with a man, I’m checking my body for information. Is this feeling fear or am I genuinely annoyed by this guy? Is he really not good for me or am I just afraid he could be? I’ve met a lot of men and haven’t found one I really like, so I often doubt myself. Is this me running before I even have a chance to get close to someone? I don’t know. I know I don’t want to waste a man’s time if I’m not interested, but how interested do I need to be? Does it need to feel like fireworks or can a fire burn slowly? I’m comfortable with my independence, but I wouldn’t mind another spicy friend. But can I really do that again? I don’t know. I’m still figuring myself out.

---

Mattress Mike

I never wanted to leave you
You were everything I knew I needed
You checked every box 
My family would have had on their list
And that night at the Cheesecake Factory
I didn’t care if we ever got a table
It was your stories, not the meal I would have missed

Long walks on the beach were the dream
My friends all said you might be the one
Our bodies fit together like two vessels
Crafted by the maker as a set
I told my friends you were just okay
And maybe I just wanted to have some fun
But I knew it was more 
And I needed to make you someone I’d forget

I wasn’t ready for the kind of man you were to become
I was scared and hadn’t lived enough yet
So when I saw a vision of our little girl
Tugging on your pants that night
Standing in the light of the fridge
My mind told my heart it was time to get

I don’t know why I couldn’t just say goodbye
Cheating made it more final I guess
I’d rather you hate me 
Than permeate me
So I left you in a way you couldn’t protest

Letter to the Fearful Avoidant

In writing this and talking about it on TikTok, I decided to write a letter to my old self, what I would have wanted to hear, and to all the people I’ve met the past couple of years who are in these shoes.

Dear Fearful,

Thank you for sharing yourself with me. I’m grateful for the time I get to experience you. All of you. Not the you who’s always on their game, who knows what to do, and who’s steady and sure, but the one who gets confused and insecure. Not just the you who’s happy and smiling, but the one who gets angry, who cries, and has really awful days.

I love the you who feels like they need to run, and wishes they didn’t. The you who puts pressure on themselves to be everything everyone wants. The you who lives in fear they will one day be found out, that people will decide they aren’t enough. I love the you who wants to be more, but wants to be loved for who you are now.

I love the you who feels the heavy weight of expectation and puts walls up to keep you safe. I’m not afraid of those walls. I don’t need to get past them. When you need to take space, when you need time apart, I have it to give. I don’t need you to be more than you are. I need you to be all that you are, as authentically as you know how to be.

When you feel the need to be something you’re not, I hope you’ll tell me. I hope you’ll give me the chance to love you as you are and not who you think I want you to be. When you start to worry I’ll leave, I hope you’ll stay and let me show you I won’t. When you feel like you’re too much, I hope you’ll give me every chance to prove you’re not. When you’re unsure about my commitment, I hope you’ll let me show you what it looks like when love is loyal.

On days when you need to pull away, I’ll still love you. When you don’t respond because you don’t know what to say, I’ll still love you. When your anxiety gets the best of you and you shut down, I’ll still love you. When shame makes you retreat from conflict, I’ll still love you. When you don’t know who you are and what you want, and you wish you could be more clear, I’ll still love you. And when you’re sure it’s really over this time, I’ll still love you.

Yours always, and without condition.