My “Rules” | How I learned to avoid in relationships as an anxious attacher

There are so many ways to start this story. At this moment in time. But they all end in the same place, me blocking someone so they wouldn’t have passive access to me without direct communication. And me dealing with the grief and holding space for my inner child and our deep abandonment wound in understanding, that by doing this, I am basically saying I won’t see him again. 

And this was a person I really wanted in my life, but he had shown me, not in words, but in actions, that he couldn’t reciprocate the feelings I had for him, and this was how I could show I heard him and respect that decision, while protecting my own peace. 

In early 2022, I declared to him: “I healed my impulse control!” I said it probably more enthusiastically than necessary, as the child in me, that he always brought out, for better or for worse, was front and center. 

“Oh yeah?” he countered, seemingly bemused, leaning against the pallet wood wall the space was known for. “Did you order a course from 7-11?” he smirked.

“I… “ I don’t remember the specifics of my reply, but probably something akin to a smile and nod, while mentally reeling. What did he say??? And acutely aware of the group of people milling around, pairing off to tie together. The birthday party part of the evening was over, and I had wanted to talk to him, hoping for someplace more private, but he stayed where he was and I, as ever, followed. 

My memory says this was April-May 2022, but the birthday person is a Leo, so that puts it at a later date, I mention this as an illustration of the faultiness of memory, especially in charged moments like this. And the tumultuousness of that time, with many concurrent storylines for both of us. 

But these emotionally charged moments that I was having a lot of in this period of my life would engender me to change. 

I actively was working on changing parts of myself that I recognized I didn’t want to possess, including the deep fear of abandonment from this person who wasn’t able to be in my life in a meaningful way, though I wanted him to be. 

His wasn’t the first mention of impulse control I had heard. I had stumbled upon it when reading about anxious and avoidant attachment, and when learning more about ADHD and autism, especially in women. And about the complex PTSD that can arise when you live your life masking your truest self, unknowingly and not always maliciously, being gaslighted by those tasked to raise you. Because no one at the time had the skills to validate the life experiences I was having when I was small. “No, you CAN’T feel that way” was a constant refrain I heard when sharing that the lights were too loud or the smells were too big. 

Eventually, little me just accepted that I truly didn’t know my own body cues, pushing them down and down until I couldn’t hear them unless they were screaming. I then built a life with a severe disconnect from my own body, doing what I thought I was “supposed” to do in life. With a lot of anxiety. 

Until I couldn’t live that life anymore. And that was this period of life for me - of change. Learning to unlearn. 

So, impulse control was something I already had heard of and recognized a lack in myself long before he mentioned I needed it and before I had this conversation declaring I was “cured”. But what I hadn’t learned yet, that was just because I intellectually learned a lesson, it would take time - and in this case, I would need rules as help for self-regulation - to be able to emotionally integrate it into my long-neglected body and make the understanding a habit. Muscle memory. 

As immediately evidenced by my texting him, on emotional impulse: “I’m afraid I will never see you again” when I got into my car later that night. Chased away from the vulnerability of the crowd by seeing him tie with a mutual friend, waves of white-hot jealousy, that I had no “right” to feel, roll through me. 

Later, hours later, he would text back: “I expect I’ll see you around.” To which, back in my intellectual mind, face firmly in palm, I was able to recognize I had done exactly what I said I had learned NOT to do and was able to apologize for my text and let go of this person in that moment. 

And he was right, we crossed paths again, at an event later in the year, perpetuating this dance I didn’t know we were in - anxious-avoidant. I hadn’t learned yet that repeat exposure only deepens the pattern. And that it was only when I took the role of the avoidant, lifting myself out of my native anxious tendencies in relationships, could I break the pattern when we came together again the year after that. That I understood I had to be the one to learn to actively avoid him.

So I learned the role of the avoidant by studying them like an anthropologist. I learned, as a fearful avoidant, that I actually had both tendencies inside of me. I found that I did avoid situations (and people) that made me anxious in EVERY other context other than romantic relationships. 

In the context of the kind of romantic relationships I felt comfortable in, my anxiety took the form of a charging bull at whatever target had triggered it, usually an avoidant male. Definitely harkening back to my relationship with my own charismatic, but avoidant, father - things I would work through in therapy, maybe forever. I also recognized that I could be avoidant in enthusiastic romantic relationships. Something I’m working on now, but I know (in some ways I was forced by my own self-sabotage) I had to to clear the anxious attachment block first. 

In my intellectual research, I found that learning how the mythical “secure attachment” would act in these situations helped give me a barometer of where I was and where I could be. 

The concurrent inner child work I was doing was key too because it gave me affirmations and a place to mentally turn in the moments when I was sitting with the feelings I would normally have avoided by anxiously reaching out. 

I know, it feels like it doesn’t make intellectual sense, especially when written out, why someone would behave like this. But I learned emotions usually don’t make sense, they need to be felt and released, without immediate reaction, instead of being intellectualized and stuck, only to explode out impulsively later. 

And I had a lifetime of this behavior - with deep ancestral socializing roots - to unlearn. 

So I made rules to follow: 

1 - I don’t double text (or double call). I let the person leave me on read, or take as much time as they need to reply. 

I allow myself ONE exception per relationship. Especially if it’s with someone that means something to me. One chance to say “Hey, I haven’t heard from you in a while, just checking in…” 

This feels like it sounds like basic human communication 101. But I found it - still have my moments - so find it, SO HARD. Because in that silence, I have to sit with my emotions. My stories, my internal monologue. Without the distraction (or perceived comfort) of the other person. 

Except, I would learn, that if I can’t find that silence from within, it will never be enough from another person. This is where my affirmations helped - “I am worthy of reciprocal passion & conscious communication.” 

Rising Woman has a course on healing anxious attachment and one of the somatic exercises they recommend is to write out a longer set of self-affirmations and to record it on a voice memo in your own literal voice. I find it is something I still listen to, even now, finding it helpful in those moments I need to remind myself I am worthy, and I can’t quite muster my internal voice. 

These in-between silences are also where I would “play” with my inner child. My brilliant therapist told me to actually envision playing with this little version of me, pushing her on a swing, or holding her hand as we take a walk. In those moments, I ask her what she needs, instead of hyperfixing on another person’s potential needs. I ask her - me - what needs did we perceive this other person meeting and how can we do that together instead. Big me & little me. 

I learned stimming techniques to use in those moments - rocking, walking, bilateral stimulation. Breathing techniques. And most of all, for me, I just journaled. The act of pen to paper wearing out any urge to reach out, to be heard by someone who couldn’t hear me. Giving them the space they deserve. 

2 - After 2 weeks of not hearing from them, I would delete their number in my phone. 

In the beginning, the number deletion happened MUCH earlier than 2 weeks because it was a relatively “easy” shortcut to not be able to reply. I actually blocked people a lot in the beginning stages of learning impulse control, thinking that blocking would save me the “hurt” feeling I was trying to avoid with silence. 

Except, I quickly learned that if and when the other person did reach out, I wouldn’t know, and if they found themselves blocked, then when and if I unblocked them, it was a giant mess. An immediate relationship ender (because the blocking felt so extreme to the other person). So I learned blocking was an absolute last resort and developed persistent anxiety around the concept of blocking and how/when/if to use it. 

Now these rules were being developed as I was concurrently coming off ALL passive forms of social media. Fetlife was first, because so many triggers, and I had help - trusted friends held passwords. Discord was next. That took a few tries, because lots of happy friend dopamine mixed among the bad trigger kind, a true drug. I had been off Facebook and Instagram for a while, but actually found myself returning to Instagram as a place where I could post my “business” photos, for in the middle of these life lessons, I found joy in creating art. And this art also gave me an anchor to build some beautiful platonic friendships and an outlet for this seemingly endless anxious energy. I liked that people could choose to follow me on Instagram, or not, and vice-versa, versus the free-for-all other messaging of the more open format message board social media styles I was coming off of.

Then, instead of watching conversations passively or having internal imaginary conversations with another person, I channeled it into making outfits and planning shoots. I would spend this time making fantasy for photos & art, instead of indulging in “fantasy” in my head.

3 - If they did reply, I did not reply back right away. 

Again, HARD! I wanted to write back seconds after receiving a message. I thought that’s what you “should” do. And in these emotionally charged messages, it’s what I thought I WANTED to do. However, I found forcing myself to leave time in between allowed me to process past my first response and into the ability to do more critical thinking before replying. 

I actually found myself feeling relief in ALL my text conversations when I gave myself permission - nay mandates - to not reply right away. 

Something that had made me the most anxious in these new kinds of relationships (being on the receiving end of a text reply after an amount of time) gave me unexpected relief when I emulated that behavior. And, because of this, I could find empathy for the other person I had been vilifying in my anxiety before. 

I was able to incorporate this rule into all my texting communications, though I am able to follow the flow of conversations with my platonic friends in moments where I could be present on the phone vs. real life, and I would still err to the side of overcommunication vs. less. But. I did stop apologizing for spaces between texts. And that still feels freeing. 

4 - I do not allow followers on my social media that may change the authenticity of my voice. 

As I got more comfortable with sitting with the emotions of these feelings, I realized that I couldn’t allow for social media “followers” that I may subconsciously be speaking to - trying to elicit direct communication from indirect. 

Now this brought up a lot of the same anxiety as “blocking” and my photography profile was usually open (as the algorithms let me) so it may not have been as egregious as blocking on the surface, but I still waited 2 weeks after gaining a meaningful new follower to see if direct communication would follow. I usually (unless I had just done a big shoot) didn’t post during that time either. The one or two times I broke this and posted something knowing someone meaningful would see it felt so yucky and really shook that fledging sense of self-worth I was building, especially around relationships, that I didn’t do it more than twice. Instead, I would keep returning to repeating “I am worthy of conscious communication and reciprocal passion” until the 2 weeks were up, then quietly removed them as a follower. 

I’d like to think if they didn’t want to call, they wouldn't notice the removal. 

5 - Understanding that checking the profiles of these people, even closed ones on any platform, just to see, was an act of self-abandonment, and I could NOT do it. 

This, like weaning myself off of Fet, discord, etc, took a lot of time. There are chemical hits to these interactions - good and bad. And, again, I had seen what the “crutch” of blocking would do in perception. So I just had to learn to not do it. And I had to learn to allow for a time to “grieve” about missing them. Break-ups have real grieving needs, I would learn, alongside the actual (read: accepted) grief of death. 

It took a lot of talking to my inner child in those moments, and writing on pen and paper, and honestly, getting away from all devices - a walk outside, preferably near the ocean, my soul home, but more often in the woods, which is more readily accessible near my house. 

I had to build time rules around “work-work” and “device-allowed” time, and that helped too. I learned to enjoy being present without the phone. It was a lot of cultivating solitude, but in ways that have given me exponential benefits. And, sometimes, it was lonely too. 

These lessons of self-parenting spilled over into the moments I had to make rules for device use with my actual child too, and vice-versa, so that was another silver lining I was grateful for. 

—

At the beginning of this year, 2024, I really felt I had a handle on these rules. I wasn’t actively dating (aka not on the dating apps) but I was still in community with my art, building meaningful friendships, and attending a few select play events with these platonic friends, even meeting new people there. 

I saw the areas in which my anxious enthusiasm when I felt a connection would perhaps bypass the lack of the other person’s enthusiasm when, instead of replying right away like before when interacting with new people, I would apply these rules, and things would fizzle before ever really getting off the ground. And that was ok. I was still actively grieving my Dad, and really trying to lean into trusting the timing of life and when/if you meet people. 

My husband was settling into new relationships, and I found so much compersion for that because it made our co-parenting partnership so much better. I was building beautiful, deep friendships that I adored. And besides only having sex once in 2023 (and with bad rope, so do orgasms count with bad bondage? haha. That relationship ended soon after.) and not at all in 2024 so far, I now understood that sex + rope is a need for me, so I could maintain trying to keep that well topped off by myself. 

Then, as I learned, as healing and/or learning locks in at an emotional level, it unlocks deeper things, or the universe gives you new challenges. And the person I had been missing for a long time, the one person I couldn’t get out of my head, out of all the people I’d been romantically drawn to in this 4+ year journey to date, replied to a group chat we had let go silent months ago. 

I didn’t have a rule for that. 

He had popped up in other places, all things I had rules for. I would soothe myself by saying “If he want to talk, he will directly contact me.” And remind myself in those moments that I was worthy of conscious communication and reciprocal passion. And, I felt this person knew and had seen my journey with impulse control, especially based on our earlier conversation years before. So, I felt it was extra important to stick to my rules around this person, letting myself be left on read in our individual chat months before, shortly after a perfect storm of a night where my agoraphobia anxiety had been raised due to a broken cell phone and no easy way to get to my child in a beach house with my mother and no car. And, in my personal shame of being rendered so vulnerable that night, I heard his statement “I am not interested in being more than friends.” And strictly followed my rules, and let go, again.  

I had already used my double text opportunity years before, being told that he didn’t want to hurt me in reply. In some ways, this round of silence felt like a predicament, a mental/body challenge I love in rope, but in this emotional context, it forced me to build these rules to have a chance at succeeding. I had made the statement that I had fixed the impulse control back then, then immediately broke it, and I really, really wanted to show him that it was true now. I wanted to be a person where my actions matched my words.

But I had no rule for a resurrected group chat, and I didn't want to bring in the third person into these confused feelings I had, even though she was one of the closest friendships I had been building.

So I gave it an hour, and called him, a direct communication format that we had enjoyed in the past, leaving a message that I would love to catch up in response to his text.  

Then went to breathe. Bring down the nervous response that only these deep, close romantic relationships can elicit. He replied later, in text, that he got my message late in the day, it was good to hear my voice, could he call tomorrow? I waited an hour to reply (I had a rule for that!) and said “Of course! :-)” 

Then, after 24 hours of no communication after that, I let our mutual friend, the third person on that errant group chat, know what was going on and what steps I had taken for direct communication. Giving her the same direct communication I craved from all people. She, to her credit and sensitivity, hadn't replied in the group text either. 

We had built a strong enough friendship that I could ask if he had contacted her outside of that chat, my heart in my throat, but knowing I wanted all to be able to be free with whoever he wanted. But he hadn’t. She was kind in her support of my silence and knowing how hard this confusion was for me. She also knew he wasn’t a “bad” person.

Then, after 2 weeks of silence, I had a decision to make. I definitely had an expectation he would call, based on his direct words, but also, perhaps understood this extended silence, by all of his repeated silences really, that he just didn’t feel the same way I felt about him. And that was ok. So I could take this continued silence for what it was - non-reciprocal passion. 

And I knew I was worthy - and looking - for reciprocity in mutual passion in my most intimate relationships. 

But I also couldn’t continue to “wait” by the phone. And I was aware of posting on Instagram during this time, as I had just done a big photoshoot - maybe my largest ever - and I didn’t want that to be perceived in ways that weren’t “true”, but wanted to continue my artistry authentically.

Though, in addition to these rules, I also had internalized the understanding that a. people don’t like to have hard conversations, choosing silence instead, and b. I had no control over other people’s stories or perceptions of me. I could only be authentically me. That had helped me to stay silent in these moments, but I didn’t know what to do about this feeling of “waiting” by the phone, other than utilize the block feature for perhaps its intended purpose? 

Except. I didn’t really want to lose this person forever. I don’t know why he triggered my deepest abandonment wounds over and over, other than I understood that I could see his trauma and find empathy for his inner child. 

But I was in an era of choosing my inner child over others. And she was very confused and unsettled by this repeated silence. But was also terrified at the consequences of blocking. 

“But I defended him!” She screamed. “I see his goodness - and I held space for him to come back to community because he deserves to be there as well!” 

“Yes, babygirl,” I reminded her over and over, “but we did these things freely, because they were in line with our values and morals, and it was the right thing to do in those moments.” 

“But I never thought we would not actually ever see him again!” She cried. “And if we block him, that will happen!” 

“But babygirl, if he doesn’t want to be here, enthusiastically, joyfully, with direct communication, then we don’t want him to be either. And I have to protect you - protect our peace.” 

So I made a new “rule” and used the block feature. I dealt with the fallout of the immediate anxiety around that by just letting myself feel and followed the coping mechanisms outlined above, repeatedly.  

Maybe this one is less of a rule and more of a circumstance. Because it was, it is, so hard to let go of this person. I can rationalize that he hit on old themes of abandonment in ways that I needed to heal on my own. I can rationalize a lot, and then understand I just have to let myself feel the grief because I really loved to be in his presence. A favorite memory was a vanilla moment of conversation with coffee/chai by the river, that was everything and enough for me, but acknowledge that we all deserve freedom and boundaries, and I have to honor his.

And I trust that the right sexual partner, like these blossoming deep friendships, will understand my trauma and experiences and sensitive little girl heart, and that the passion will be reciprocal, and that the timing will be right.

Maybe even be mutually passionate enough that I won’t need these rules, but instead will need to cultivate a new set on the opposite side of the spectrum about how to sit with the discomfort of someone liking me as much as I like them, without me running away as another form of self-sabotage. 

Because I now know the importance of understanding that I am worthy of conscious communication and reciprocal passion. I had to learn to love and protect myself before being able to let anyone else’s love match that. 

I found devotion to another, especially this other, was easy; but finding that same devotion to myself was the hardest, and the most rewarding, emotional work I have ever done. 

The journey it has led me on has been full of joyful moments in the shadows, and as I tiptoe into the light, continues as I find trust that I can’t lose the ones with whom my energy matches their desire to stay, to be, to learn, to grow, together in reciprocal and mutual in ways I can’t even imagine. 

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Image on main page by Brian Gordillo on Unsplash