I Hate Falling in Love.
By: Lisa Martens
Tags: Relationships, PTSD, Anxiety, Love, Mental Health

I Hate Falling in Love.

My Fearful-Avoidant Attachment Makes Caring Feel Like Hell.

Cute, but it’ll never work out. Photo by Krista Mangulsone on Unsplash

I am terrified of falling in love.

Of intimacy, of sex, of being honest with my feelings, of being forthright with them.

Yet, at the same time, I crave affection, warmth, and can’t help but think about what a happy relationship would look like.

It’s a push and pull. Wouldn’t that be nice? But, of course, it would end badly. All relationships end badly.

And so, when I find someone I actually like, it’s the same dance.

The same extremely painful dance.

Do I get close? Do I dare to wonder, to yearn?

No. It is not safe. It is better to let them go be with someone else, someone who is not as flawed as I am. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway.

I have a fearful-avoidant attachment style.

There are different attachment types. Secure. Avoidant. Anxious. And, for people like me with PTSD, there’s fearful-avoidant.

It’s basically the worst of overly-clingy combined with the most commitment-phobic person you know.

Recognizing my patterns helps, but it’s still hard to break.

When I like someone and it might be returned, I feel good, the way you’re supposed to feel.

But I also feel terrified.

What is this person is lying, or putting on an act, to get something from me?

And already, my mind starts to see all the awful things that could happen, even if no red flags are present.

Just a cup of coffee.

I remember I had been on a few dates with a guy who seemed very sweet. He was handsome. I liked him. He kissed me a couple of times.

So I began to avoid seeing him. I said I was busy, but that I did want to see him. It was only sort of true…the fact was, I was becoming more and more terrified of developing feelings for him, and I didn’t know how to express that.

He tried to bring me coffee one day, and I freaked out. I never went on a date with him again. I was convinced he was stalking me, even though that probably wasn’t the case (he lived nearby, and he was trying to make time for me). I ended things, claiming I just didn’t have time for a relationship. In my head, he had fucked up. Bringing me coffee was a huge red flag.

I found a reason to do what my avoidant defense mechanisms wanted.

Of course, I had already sort of made that decision. But it made it easier once I convinced myself that he was “stalking” me.

What had caused this?

I had been stalked and abused by a boyfriend in my early 20s. He had been narcissistic…dating multiple people at once, and having every girl he was dating be friends and make nice with one another. He used me repeatedly, and I always came back until I feared for my life and had to get away.

I also did not have a secure home as a child, which is another common issue with people who have fearful-avoidant attachment types. I was in foster care, and I was raised for a short time by an abusive relative before I was reunited with my parents at age 5.

Because I was back with my parents, there was this kind of idea that everything would be fine after that.

But I was not fine. I was still afraid. I was afraid my parents would leave me, or I would have to move and live with other relatives…maybe even that abusive relative again. I loved my parents, but I never expressed these fears to them. I was afraid of their reaction.

Much like I’m still afraid of the reactions of other people.

When I fall in love with someone, it is painful.

I want to tell them about my fears, and I cannot.

I want to shut myself off from them, and look for reasons why it’s not going to work out.

I want to protect myself by being alone.

Even if I want someone, that desire hurts so much. I may not necessarily want to be alone, but it does not hurt. I know what to expect when I’m alone.

The man who tried to bring me coffee years ago is now married.

And I still feel relief that I never had to open up.

I just think “It’s better he found someone else. Someone who can love him.”

Unfortunately, it’s easier for me to think that way. It’s safer.

The desire, the ache of being in love is too painful. What if we kiss, and I want to do more than kiss? What if it just snowballs into a situation beyond my control? What if I really fall in love?

I don’t want to fall in love. I don’t want to want. I don’t want to feel that pain.

But I have come to recognize things that make my relationships easier.

Taking time out before I react is one. I should have taken time to myself before blowing up over a cup of coffee. I should have given myself perspective. I probably would have seen that I was reacting based on past trauma.

Giving myself time helps.

I’m going to have to be honest, someday.

I’m terrified of it. But I recognize that the only way to develop healthy attachments is to be open about my fears, my anxieties, and my need to avoid love.

I need to find someone who won’t take it personally.

This, traditionally, has been the thing that re-traumatizes me…I begin to open up about my conflicting feelings, and the person I’m telling says something like, “I didn’t do any of those things. Why are you punishing/blaming me?”

And then I do not want to open up.

Because I already know that person wasn’t the person to cause my problems…nor are they the one who will fix my problems.

Only I can do that.

But when they think of things that way...instead of just listening to me and telling me I’m understood…it triggers all my worst anxious and avoidant tendencies.

To my future partner, I’m sorry in advance.

Because, in a sense, my life is easier without you, but not as fulfilling.

Love is hell to me, especially when it’s easy and good. Because then I’m just waiting, in suspense, for something bad to happen.

I’m going to need a lot of patience and consoling.

But maybe, hopefully, I’ll find a way through this maze.

Maybe, hopefully, I’ll be able to enjoy being in love.