This isn’t something that arrived all at once.
It’s been forming slowly — through reflection, through loss, through noticing what tightens and what softens inside me.
Not a conclusion.
More a recognition.
What I’m Noticing
I’ve spent a lot of time questioning whether I’m avoidant.
Looking back at relationships.
Replaying moments where I pulled away.
Trying to work out whether distance meant fear — or whether it meant something else.
What I’m noticing now is that how I relate depends a lot on where I’m relating.
In some dynamics, closeness feels like something I have to maintain.
Something I have to prove.
Something that requires me to override my own rhythm.
In those spaces, I become careful.
I retreat.
I start managing myself.
In others — quieter, rarer ones — closeness doesn’t feel compulsory.
It feels optional.
Inviting.
Negotiated.
And in those spaces, something else happens.
I stay.
What Secure-Enough Feels Like
I’m starting to understand that secure-enough relating isn’t about constant availability or emotional intensity.
It’s about pace.
Being able to say, “I need time,” without it becoming a problem to solve.
Being able to return without repairing something that was never broken.
Being able to disagree without feeling like the relationship itself is under threat.
There’s no emergency when difference appears.
No demand to be understood immediately.
No subtle pressure to close the gap before I’m ready.
Closeness is offered — not enforced.
And I notice how my body responds to that.
It settles.
Why I Think This Matters
I’ve realised that a lot of what gets labelled as avoidance is actually a response to environments that don’t allow for spaciousness.
When closeness is measured by proximity,
when reassurance is expected on demand,
when growth is framed as something that needs to happen for the relationship to survive —
something in me tightens.
That tightening isn’t a failure of attachment.
It’s information.
I don’t think the work is to force myself to stay closer than I can.
I think the work is to recognise the conditions under which I don’t need to leave.
That feels like a very different question.
The Open Question
I’m still learning how to trust the difference between distance that protects me
and distance that disconnects me.
And I’m curious about this:
What would change if I stopped asking whether I’m avoidant —
and started asking whether a relationship allows me to stay present without disappearing?