Anxious attachment — sometimes called love addiction — isn’t really about love. It’s about clinging to emotional intensity and fantasy, hoping it’ll give you the safety you never had.
If this is your pattern, you might pour everything into your partner — chasing closeness, reading between the lines, replaying texts, spiralling when things feel off. Your self-worth starts to hinge on how they respond (or don’t). You feel calm when they’re close and panicked when they pull away.
Red flags? You see them — you just can’t let go. Addiction, cheating, emotional unavailability, outbursts, unreliability… part of you knows it’s not right, but the fear of losing the connection is stronger. So you stay. You try harder. You make excuses. You shrink.
Over time, these relationships become all-consuming. You might cut off friends, lose track of your own goals, and feel like you can’t breathe without them. Even if it hurts, even if it’s not working — the hope that “this time it will be different” keeps you going back.
It usually isn’t different.
Sometimes these relationships end when the other person leaves. Other times, something in you finally clicks — and you realise no amount of fixing, proving, or sacrificing will give you the safety you’ve been chasing.
That’s usually when the real work begins. The kind that helps you heal the root of it, stop repeating the same cycle, and build the kind of love that’s safe, steady, and real.
Avoidant attachment usually forms when closeness felt unsafe or unreliable early on. As a kid, you might have learned that needing people didn’t end well — so now, as an adult, you rely on yourself, keep emotions tightly under wraps, and shut down when things get too close.
In relationships, this can look like needing “space,” pulling back when things get emotional, or feeling overwhelmed by your partner’s need for connection. You might avoid hard conversations, keep people at a distance, or struggle to explain how you really feel — even if you care deeply.
Partners often describe you as distant, detached, or hard to reach. Conflict feels threatening, not because you’re cold — but because you never learned how to be close and safe at the same time.
Avoidant people aren’t heartless. You feel more than you show — but vulnerability feels risky, and the safest thing has always been to shut it down before it gets too real.
Disorganised attachment is usually rooted in early relationships that were unsafe, neglectful, or frightening — where the person you turned to for comfort was also a source of fear. That kind of confusion doesn’t just disappear. It shows up in adult relationships as chaos, push-pull dynamics, and deep mistrust.
You might cling one moment, then shut down the next. You might panic when they pull away — and then feel trapped when they come close. Reassurance helps for a second, then suddenly it feels suffocating. You want connection, but don’t believe it’s safe to really let someone in.
This pattern often looks unpredictable on the outside, but inside it’s just survival mode: trying to stay close and protect yourself at the same time. It’s exhausting — for you and for your partner.
Disorganised attachment isn’t about being too much. It’s what happens when your nervous system never had a safe place to land. But with the right support, that can change.
Secure attachment is built on trust, consistency, and emotional safety — usually learned through early relationships where needs were met and emotions were seen, not dismissed. If you grew up with that, relationships tend to feel steady. You know how to get close without losing yourself. You can give and receive support. You’re not afraid to talk things through, set boundaries, or ride out conflict without shutting down or blowing up.
This doesn’t mean you’re perfect or never get triggered — it means you bounce back. You’re flexible, responsive, and not stuck in the survival patterns of anxious clinging or avoidant shutdown.
For those who didn’t grow up this way, secure attachment can still be learned. It takes self-awareness, emotional risk, and often, the experience of being in relationships — therapeutic or otherwise — that show you it’s safe to show up as you are.
Secure attachment isn’t lucky. It’s earned — and I can help.