Once upon a time, I was Anxious Attachment incarnate. People-pleasing, chasing, overextending—I was the blueprint. But through deep inner work, something shifted. I didn’t see it happen all at once, but one day, I looked up and realized: I didn’t need or want to chase anyone anymore.
My self-esteem was thriving. I knew my worth and stopped lowering myself for anyone. I had graduated to the land of Secure Attachment, and let me tell you—it felt like paradise.
But here’s what no one told me about attachment styles: even in recovery, the residue remains. And the right set of circumstances can awaken it, catching you off guard when you least expect it.
The Trigger
My fiancé and I have a relationship I once only dreamed of. He’s everything I wrote down in the thick of my inner work and more. For months, it was nothing but bliss—laughter, flirtation, and daily doses of love.
And then one day, it happened.
We were having our usual afternoon phone call while he was at work. The conversation was lighthearted at first, but then we ventured into a delicate topic—one that stirred emotions for both of us. We wanted to resolve it, but getting there was proving tricky.
As the conversation shifted from playful to serious, I felt it—the stirring deep in my stomach. That old, familiar ball of anxiety started to wake up. It traveled upward, settling in my throat like an unwelcome guest.
“Either he’s going to break up with you,” it whispered, “or he’s about to give you the silent treatment for a week. You know the drill. Apologize for things that aren’t your fault. Send him seventeen texts to make sure he’s not upset. Overexplain yourself. Chase him—even if he’s not running, just chase him… you know, just in case.”
What the actual fuck?
Before I could stop myself, it spilled out of me:“Are you going to break up with me over this? Or ignore me for the next week?”
The Gentle Response
Silence.
Twenty seconds stretched into an eternity before he softly replied, “Babe…what?”
I felt dumb—immediately dumb. “I…I don’t know why I asked that,” I stammered.
He paused, then gently said, “You asked that because those immature men from your past handled things poorly. You’re used to chaos. And now, we’re having a disagreement—something new for us—and it’s bringing up those old memories.”
In that moment, my mind flashed to the list I once wrote: a man who could attune to me. Here he was, living proof that I had manifested exactly what I needed.
I started to cry.
“It’s okay, my love,” he said tenderly. “This is normal. We’ll work through it together. Wanna take some deep breaths with me?”
I nodded through my tears. Closing my eyes, I followed his lead as he inhaled and exhaled, guiding me back to calm. Within minutes, the ball of anxiety in my throat dissolved, leaving behind a sense of peace.
“How do you feel now?” he asked, his voice full of love.
“Better. A little embarrassed, but better,” I admitted.
“You never have to be embarrassed with me, babe,” he reassured me. “Also…I’m not going anywhere. I’m marrying you in a year—act like you know!”
His playful tone made me laugh, and just like that, I felt safe again.
Healing in Real Time
Twenty minutes later, as I sat at my desk, the front door unexpectedly opened.
“Hello?!” I called out, startled.
There he was, coffee in hand, still in his work uniform.
“I figured you hadn’t gone out for your afternoon coffee yet,” he said with a warm smile. “I thought you might’ve cried a little more after our call, so I brought you this…and a hug.”
Tears streamed down my face as he wrapped me in a grounding embrace.
“Thank you for being you,” I whispered.
“Thank you for being you, too,” he replied, stroking my hair.
We stood like that for a while, and in his arms, I felt something I’d never truly felt before: safety.
A Reflection on Healing
Later that day, I turned to my journal, the only place where I knew how to make sense of all these feelings.
“Could it be,” I wrote, “that we can only heal so much from Anxious Attachment on our own? That the rest of the healing happens within a healthy relationship?”
I mused at the Carrie Bradshaw style of writing I penned in my journal, as I followed my own question down a hand-written rabbit hole.
The answer was clear. Inner work is non-negotiable—it’s our responsibility to identify our wounds and start the healing journey. But even with all the work we do alone, there will always be triggers.
The beauty of a healthy relationship is having a partner who helps you navigate those moments with compassion, love, and consistency.
For years, I believed true love wasn’t supposed to feel like a battlefield. Deep down, I always knew it was supposed to feel like this: healing.
I was 37 years old when I finally learned I was right all along.
I hope this story inspires you in some way. If nothing else, let it be food for thought. Finish your plate and go be great ;)
P.S If you want to get serious about your inner work journey but don't know where to start, click here to grab my Sis, Get Your Ish Together journals. They have prompts in them to help you do just that...start.
Much love,
