My Fear of Abandonment
How it plays out in my relationship, what it feels/looks like, and what the outcomes have been.
Anxiety is a feeling that I am extremely familiar with, yet still extremely intolerant of. My mind races with the same thoughts over and over again, as if each iteration might somehow produce a different feeling. Of course, running the same marathon over and over again isn’t going to make me feel less tired than running it just once. Paradoxically, it drains me more.
I think that the same principle applies to overthinking. However, it’s much harder to fully accept that thinking more about a situation — especially if it happened in the past- is probably not going to make me feel better about it. Looking back, overthinking has led me down too many paths of possible explanations, causing me to individually stress out about each one.
Example of a Personal Trigger: Relationship Issues. Fear of abandonment sounds so cliché that I never want to bring it up, but in reality it’s the crux of my attachment issues.
When my partner is acting “off”, I immediately go into flight-or-flight mode. I become hypervigilant, taking every one of their actions and words into consideration as I form a totally skewed hypothesis about what it could all mean. If my partner isn’t laughing at my jokes, responding to my texts quickly enough, or feels more distant, my conclusion is that they have definitely lost interest.
My mind initially forks off in two directions.
On one hand, my brain is scrambling to find out a possible explanation for my partner wanting to leave me. It pores over every crack and crevice, highlighting all my flaws and shortcomings, making me feel extremely unworthy of my partner in the process. I start to understand and empathize with them, and end up feeling completely inadequate.
The other route that my brain takes is the problem-solving route. I start to plan out every future interaction — how do I demonstrate that I still have inherent worth? I overanalyze every reaction I get, and try to recreate the ones that seem most favorable. A simple chuckle or a jokingly crude comeback makes my day. But when they’re gone again, I’m stuck thinking about what I’ve done.
On paper, the second route might not sound too bad, but it doesn’t usually reflect my behavior. For example, I might be so focused on establishing a “good interaction” that I get worn out, or frustrated if I’m not getting the results I wanted, and exit the situation prematurely. Ultimately, that reduces the amount of quality time I spend with my partner, and pushes us further away by creating further distance from my end.
During our separation — whether that’s a couple hours or a full day- my thoughts spiral out of control.
They’re getting ready to tell me the bad news.
They’re just waiting for the right time to break up with me.
They’ve figured out everything that’s wrong with me.
They don’t feel like I’m worth the effort anymore.
That last thought has a special sort of sting to it. Straight to the heart. All my life, I’ve been assigned the caretaker role. But, I’ve genuinely grown fond of it. I strive to show up for others when I’m needed, to lend an empathic ear or give my two cents when asked.
I feel like I’m always offering my shoulder to cry on.
But when I’m in need of someone’s help, my throat closes up and my brain scrambles all my thoughts so that I can’t even make sense of what I want help with. My body screams out but only I can hear it… my aching, burning heartbeat and all my scathing, self-loathing thoughts all competing to etch a permanent mark in my brain. My voice disappears when I try to describe it.
I want someone’s patience. I want them to offer stability. I want them to be able to love me through my tough moments, but I fear that no one can.
I mean, I can’t.
And that deep-rooted, primal need for unconditional love drives my subtle avoidance, impulsive remarks, and thoughtless actions towards my partner. I’m vying for attention and rejecting their approach simultaneously. It has driven people away from me, fulfilling my worst fear of my loved ones finally getting fed up and leaving.
There have been times when I was able to approach situations differently. Specifically, when I try to distract myself from cyclic ruminations and tolerate the lingering uncertainty, I usually have the best outcomes. Most of the time, I’m correct in noticing that something is off, but totally wrong in assuming that it’s rooted in me.
To elaborate, when my partner is struggling with their own personal circumstances (e.g. school, work, family) they have a tendency to withdraw. That triggers my fears and causes me to act erratically, adding onto their preexisting stress. Romantic relationships aren’t often seen as a priority, so when my partner gets overwhelmed I frequently worry about the possibility of being the first sandbag they cut loose.
Then, the problem becomes my own. How can I be less burdensome? How can I help them? At the same time, a creeping resentment builds up around the possibility that they don’t value the relationship as much as I do.
What manifests is a pattern of hot-and-cold behavior, drawing them in so close and trying to dote on them and pushing them away when I’m feeling unwanted for whatever reason. After I’ve done that, well then, I legitimately start to think that this behavior is now making them want to leave for sure.
There are times when I remind myself that my partner doesn’t perceive me the way that I perceive myself. I think that based on my personal experiences, I keep realizing that I need to eventually come to terms with the fact that I will never be able to fully know what my partner is thinking or feeling either. I can always ask, but there’s no amount of answers that could possibly satisfy the mountain of questions my anxiety has generated.
When I fear abandonment, I do everything I can to prevent it, but at the same time I am aware of my efforts being wildly counterintuitive. Yet, I still do it.
Sometimes, unconsciously working towards the feared outcome feels more comfortable than allowing for a different unfolding of events. In a way, I think that knowing that abandonment is inevitable is a much more comfortable thought than knowing it may or may not happen. It’s what I’m used to, and what I expect.
I don’t want it anymore though. I think I’m ready to start changing.
