Yup, avoidant attachment style.
I’m generally seen as pretty emotionally open, but it’s always a front, like a negotiation to give the appearance of warmth but I’m terrified to open any deeper. I feel like what people think is the core us just the rind.
Babies will actually show this behavior as well- so this trauma goes DEEP. It might even be more genetic than behavioral. They’ve shown when a parent leaves a baby for a bit, the baby begins to cry, but when the parent returns, there are three responses (I’ll pretend a baby can speak, but this is what they say with body language):
- Ah! You were gone but now you’re back! I missed you and I’m happy you are here let’s play with my rattle (stable)
- OH MY GOD YOU ARE BACK I MISSED YOU PLEASE DON’T LEAVE EVER AGAIN I’M HOLDING ON TO YOU HARDER (Anxious)
- Oh, you’re back? That’s fine, I’m not gonna look at you. If I stop caring you can’t hurt me again. (Avoidant)
I know I’d keep a pretty clean & minimalist room as a kids- I remember straight up saying “I want to be able to pack up my life and leave at a moments notice and no one will ever know I ever existed” when I was 10. It’s still hard to believe people care about me in any meaningful way.
Weird thing- I had a very supportive childhood. Having a sister with intense ADHD was tough though since she took up 90% of my parents time, so I think that’s where it comes from.

















I grew up in a household that kept with a healthy Mediterranean diet, no sugar, drinking whatever milk my mom decided was healthiest at the time, salads and kale chips, where cutting the bottom of a broccoli stock would be considered a cookie-
And then I moved to the Midwest. My god the orgasmic feeling of digging into chicken wings for the first time or a corn pudding. I had no clue that everyone here puts marshmallows on sweet potatoes or in a sandwich with peanut butter, like what?
And pizza- PIZZA. Look, I’ve had plenty of pizza before, vegan, peach slices on arugula with a light sauce. But Chicago deep dish? Pizza or not it’s a monument to man’s gluttony. Double dough? My god that thicc slice is choice.
The chef’s here are essentially participating in assisted suicide, and it’s the best thing ever. When I go out now, I’m going to Dr. Kavorkian’s 24 hour diner, extra gravy please.