The Making of a Fearful Avoidant Part
The happy toddler…
If you’ve ever watched The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, you might have noticed something quietly heartbreaking beneath all the glamorous clothes, confidence and quick wit, she wasn’t really present for her children. There was evidence that she loved them, but between her personal pain, ambition and constant movement, her kids were often left on the sidelines of her emotional world.
When I think of my own childhood, I see similarities of that dynamic with both my parents. While I know they loved me and my sisters, it wasn’t in the way I feel was needed, and most certainly shaped the development of my fearful avoidant part. This part has been misunderstood by others and me for a long time. I’ve judged her, thought she was broken and couldn’t understand why she pulled away when love got to close and ached in silence when it was gone. I’ve come to realize though, she makes perfect sense.
I was a happy toddler, always smiling and full of life. But when I was five, my dad left my mom for a much younger woman, it wasn’t his first affair, but it was the one that drove him to leave town and his family behind. Because he moved quite far away and worked a lot, I only saw him on school holidays and when he came to take us out on halloween. He always wrote letters though, many of them. I felt his love in those words. But love in a letter isn’t the same as love in a lap and it never really felt like enough. One minute it was there and the next I was left trying to understand why the women, the work and the friends were more important than me.
My mom, left to raise four girls, was consumed by her own pain. She was emotionally avoidant, likely from her own unresolved trauma and didn’t have the capacity to attune to our needs. She was neglectful physically and emotionally, but I saw glimmers of love with home-cooked meals, presents and fleeting moments of happily playing while she read her book on the couch. I believe with my whole heart she wanted to be a mother with more self energy, but sadly went to her grave regretting that she couldn’t be.
As a child, I felt confused. Love was present, but not always. Sometimes warm, sometimes gone. It didn’t feel stable or consistent. My nervous system learned early on that affection could disappear, connection could vanish and that I couldn’t rely on love to stay. And that’s when a part of me stepped in to protect me. It wasn’t a part with a voice I heard, it was more a feeling in my body that implied “don’t trust that love will last” or “it’s not safe to rely on others because they will disappoint you”. She learned to anticipate abandonment, to keep love close, but not too close. To become fiercely independent while secretly yearning for someone to choose her and mean it. She wasn’t wrong, she was protecting me from reliving the heartbreak of a little girl who just wanted to be noticed, held and chosen. It was a brilliant strategy as a child, but hasn’t worked well for me as an adult and hurt people along the way. I know I’m not alone though and that’s why I’m writing about it. It doesn’t have to be a burden of shame to carry, it can simply be a piece in the story of your life that you want and do heal. Accepting that I have a part like this became the first step in healing. Then it’s become the practice of being the loving present adult that she never had, telling her I will never leave or neglect her, and that she doesn’t need to sabotage things to protect us. Like all relationships it takes time to build trust but we are getting there and so can you, one compassionate step at a time.
Lastly I will say, I do hold compassion for both of my parents, just like the Maisels they were doing the best they could given the legacy of their own burdens. But their best left some gaps, and in those gaps my fearful avoidant part grew strong. As a child I was a victim, but as an empowered adult I’m choosing to do the slow, sacred work of filling those gaps with presence, trust, and love from the inside out.
Thanks for reading and remember: You’re not too much, you’re not hard to love and you can move towards earned secure-attachment where love feels safe, boundaries are clear and connection doesn’t feel so threatening to your system. It’s possible if you choose it.