Is it all your mom’s fault?
No matter what “it” is — your crippling fear of rejection, your weird obsession with unavailable people, or the way you automatically say “I’m good!” when you’re very much not — Freud would have probably nodded enthusiastically and said, “Yup. Definitely your mom.”
Ah, Freud. The man who thought that women were walking around with a chronic case of penis envy. (Which, let’s be real, we’ve all been envious of the whole not having to bleed for five days every month thing at least once). I also wonder how his mom felt when she read about the whole Oedipus complex. Awkward family dinner, anyone?
But even Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, had his limits. He famously admitted that psychology “is unable to solve the riddle of femininity.” And honestly? Same. I can barely solve the riddle of why I order a salad and then eat fries off everyone else’s plate.
Fortunately, modern psychology has evolved past blaming moms for everything and crafting theories based on one random village kid with horse anxiety. Instead, we now have data. Loads of it. And yet… we’re still asking ourselves, “Why am I like this?”
It is a question I ask myself maaaybe too often. Like when I somehow manage to get caught on the doorknob for absolutely no reason (my mind? Somewhere else entirely — and no, it’s not alcohol). Or when I find myself mid-way through something completely self-destructive, fully aware I’m doing myself a massive disservice, and still going, “Naah it’s fine.”
Why any of us turn out the way we do — for better or worse — has been the subject of endless debates in classrooms, therapy offices, and, let’s be honest, nightclubs at 2 AM. Just the other night, I saw a girl crying in a bathroom while her friends huddled around her, offering “valuable insight” about why her guy was being distant. Was the advice useful? I doubt it. But hey, solidarity in bathroom breakdowns is a universal language.
Relationships are crucial to our survival. Whether you’re looking at biology, neuroscience, or psychology, relationships — of any kind —we cannot do without them. Be it due to hormones, nervous systems, attachment patterns, the alignment of the stars, whatever — if you want to know more — go to Google Scholar, this is not the right place for accredited scientific articles.
The ugly truth is that the way we connect with people as adults is heavily influenced by our childhood experiences. I know, I know — thanks for the reminder, Captain Obvious. But instead of pulling a Freud and pinning it all on your mum, modern scholars are more interested in the complex dance of factors that shape how we relate to the world.
Because, let’s be real: while your parents have certainly played the leading role, your bratty sibling, your bullying classmates, that (hopefully) one toxic ex, and the general dumpster fire we call society, have all somehow contributed to our #traumas. In the end, though, a lot of us mess ourselves up just fine without anyone else’s help. Oops.
Somewhere in between that life and this life, some of us (hope more will join tbh) hop on the “Let’s unlearn everything we were taught and figure out why we’re emotionally unavailable” train. For me, that journey started last summer, when I dove headfirst into attachment theory.
You’ve probably heard of it — maybe from TikTok therapists or that one friend who won’t stop diagnosing themselves. No judgment — same here. I took every online quiz to confirm what I already “knew” (spoiler alert: I got that wrong too), but hadn’t given it much thought until I was — willingly or not — thrown in hot water.
To elaborate a bit, attachment is sort of the fuel of interpersonal relationships — it gives them power, can be quite toxic, and little effort is put into reducing emissions and getting to a sustainable option. And it’s been connected to all sorts of health-related issues, from depression to heart health. Not to drag it out a lot, attachment essentially is the relationship schema we have formed in our heads when we were teeny tiny humans with no idea about what relationships actually are and decided that it is what other people are going to represent to us, forever. Talk about efficiency.
There are, however, events that alter our attachments, usually, things that cause some upheaval, for example — the birth of a sibling (*winks at sister*), loss of a loved one and family separation. Even relationships themselves, especially during what they call “young adulthood” — when you’re too old to blame shit on your raging teen hormones and too young to know that the rest of life entails just as much improvisation. Attachment though is not limited only to romantic relationships, and, recent research shows that it is not uncommon that we exhibit different attachment styles across different connections.
Depending on the degree to which relationships make us possessive or have us running for the hills, there are 4 different types along the 2 axes: anxious, avoidant, disorganized and secure. And apparently, people with secure attachment make up about 50%-60% of the population.
a. I don’t know any of those… individuals
b. I would like to see some backed-up statistics to find that actually believable
Being a person with anxious tendencies (read: anxiety), I thought my attachment style goes along with it, duh. Plus, previous questionnaires had confirmed it, so it must be true, right? Wrong. Turns out, my self-perception was about as reliable as a weather forecast on a British summer day. Yes, there was anxiety in the mix, but it came with a hefty tablespoon of avoidance. Basically, I’m a spicy little cocktail of please love me but also, don’t get too close.
Hi, I’m Jane, and I’m disorganized. (And yes, I have a junk-full kitchen drawer to prove it.)
Welcome to the Disorganized Club — Population 5%
For those lucky enough to avoid this mess, disorganized attachment (a.k.a. fearful-avoidant) is exactly what it sounds like: you crave closeness, but you’re terrified of it. Vulnerability makes you feel seen and safe, but also sends your brain into red alert mode like you’ve just handed over your PIN to a scammer.
Why keep it simple when it can be complicated, right?
I mean, I really should’ve seen it coming. The fact that I’m conflict avoidant should’ve been my first clue.
“Heated” discussions? No thanks. They make me feel like I’m trapped on a bus in +40°C with no air conditioning. Sweaty, uncomfortable, and please just let me off. I’d rather slap a shiny sticker on the problem, shove it in a drawer, and never look at it again than risk spilling emotional mess all over the place — at least that’s how I (used to) perceive it.
And it’s not just arguments. The context is as wide as a German Autobahn.
One of my quirks is forgetting important conversations, for example. Intense talks? I turtle in. I pull my head into my metaphorical shell and wait for the danger of feelings to pass. On the outside, I look calm. I’m half-smiling and sparingly blink, an expression which, I’ve heard, leads onto nothing. Inside — it’s pure chaos. My emotions are sprinting in circles, pulling their hair out, screaming, “WHAT DO WE DO?!”. Even if we’ve jointly rehearsed the conversation in Brain Central 12 times before, the moment arrives and… system override.
What I find upsetting is that it’s not that I don’t know what to do in those situations, which questions to ask or what to say — I just can’t? My amygdala takes over like a rogue software that detects threats where there are none, and suddenly I’m pressing all the wrong emotional buttons in a panic that something bad is going to happen, and I do the opposite of whatever I’d like to say or do. The defense is up. The display freezes. Screensaver: on.
Another thing I’ve always been proud of? My total independence. Or — as I’ve recently learned — my absolute inability to ask for help. Because if you don’t rely on people, they can’t disappoint you, right? It’s a foolproof strategy! Until you’re crawling to the pharmacy instead of calling someone to pick up your prescription because God forbid you let anyone see you vulnerable. To anyone I’ve hurt with this behaviour — I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me. But really.
And though I’m an Extrovert with a capital E, I need my recharge time like I need coffee in the morning — desperately. I’m talking scroll mindlessly on TikTok or lie face down on the carpet in silence kind of recharge. Peace. Quiet. Zero humans. On a daily basis. Interactions — even with people I love — can make me feel… jittery. Not because I don’t want to be with them, but because I feel like they’ve come too close, and I panic I’m being seen too much. And then, I’m in fight-or-flight mode. The main point is — it’s got nothing to do with how I feel about the person. It’s not personal. It’s just… sometimes brain screams SPACE! And paradoxically, it usually happens when emotions are involved.
This same discomfort is why I adore organising my life but hate labels (and there is a whole article in my head about it waiting to be written). And no, this is not me making excuses for my junk drawer. Labels feel prescriptive, as if someone out there has written all the steps for me and I just need to follow them. But give me a chaotic mess to sort through and categorise? Yes, please.
Fortunately, as per the chart, I’m not at the far end of the disorganised spectrum — more like that golden middle ground. Think of me as a mild Indian curry: spicy enough to be interesting, but not so intense that it’ll have you running to the bathroom.
I’ve thankfully put in a lot of work to shift my attachment patterns. I’m much better at having hard conversations without turtling into my shell. I still catch myself putting my defenses up when things feel too overwhelming, but I focus on the whys and I try to march through. And, most of the time, it works.
That said, attachment isn’t fixed. Even now, I’m not always like this, and not with everyone. Attachment can shift depending on the relationship and the person sitting across from you. We’re not living on emotional islands — and what someone brings to the emotional table can trigger different sides of you, and mirror back your emotional wounds.
Not all relationships we have are attachment bonds. Not every person (we think) we love is an attachment figure. And not every situation feels so threatening to our sense of self that it elicits such a strong emotional response. I’ve also recently learned it was possible to be acting by proxy — when someone else’s avoidance or anxiety gives you a convenient excuse to dodge intimacy yourself. You see their walls, and you think, Perfect. I don’t need to let my guard down either.
And I get it. Vulnerability is terrifying.
But the truth is — we love people for who they are, and we also love people for who we are. How we feel around them, how we see them, how seen we feel with them. And vulnerability takes courage to let other people peel back the layers of our onions and see what is on the inside that makes us who we are. Knowing that though it might make them cry, it is okay, and they will stay. And that even if they don’t, we are still whole. An insecure attachment style stands between us and that.
By now, you’re probably tempted to take an attachment style test. My advice? Proceed with caution. Our brains are manipulative little bastards. They’ll twist the results to fit what we already believe about ourselves. So unless you’re ready to be brutally honest and look at your emotional patterns objectively, don’t waste your time.
What you can do, though, is make a choice.
Choose to set to act out of a place of love, in any relationship. Real connection requires you to choose the red pill of love over the blue one of fear. And it’s a choice we have to make over and over again, in every relationship, daily. Sure, fear feels safer. But love and vulnerability are the only way to live a life in full colour.
Thanks for reading ✌🏻
(and good luck peeling your own layers)
Some (hopefully useful) resources:
The Attachment Style test I’ve been talking about — proceed cautiously, if you do
More about John Bowlby, the pioneer of attachment theory
Mary Ainsworth and her Strange Situation experiment on infant attachment
Book on attachment: Attachment Theory in Practice: Emotionally Focused Therapy (EFT) With Individuals, Couples, and Families by Susan M. Johnson
Paper on the flexibility of attachment styles, University of Illinois (2010)
Article: An Attachment Bond isn’t in Every Relationship. Here’s Why.
Video by The School of Life: The Challenges of Anxious-Avoidant Relationships
Therapy. Seriously.
