I never knew what “avoidant attachment” was until I met Bradley.
I thought we were just different — emotionally mismatched. I thought I was asking for too much, being too sensitive, or expecting a kind of love that didn’t exist anymore. But the more I prayed for clarity, the more I started digging. And what I found changed everything.
Bradley wasn’t just distant or emotionally unavailable — he was avoidant.
Loving an Avoidant: My Wake-Up Call
Bradley would draw me in just close enough to feel connected, and then vanish emotionally right when things got real. We’d share a deep moment — a vulnerable conversation, time together, even intimacy — and the next day, he’d pull away, act cold, or go silent.
At first, I thought it was me. Maybe I did too much. Maybe I was too much.
But deep down, I was hurt and confused. And I didn’t know how to say it — or admit it — because I didn’t even understand what was happening.
Then I stumbled across something called “avoidant attachment,” and it felt like someone had written a page from my life.
And Then I Saw Myself
While reading about avoidant traits, I saw him… but I also saw me.
That was the part I didn’t expect. I started reflecting on my own past relationships — especially the one with my son’s dad. That breakup was strange… because I never truly felt it. I didn’t cry, didn’t journal, didn’t process. I just walked away.
And to this day, I don’t feel much about it at all. That’s not peace — that’s avoidance.
I had been proud of how “unbothered” I was. But now I realize that wasn’t healing — it was shutdown. I had been emotionally disconnecting from my own pain so I wouldn’t have to face it.
I Don’t Process — I Suppress
And this pattern doesn’t just show up in relationships.
When my mom’s health started declining, I didn’t process it — I powered through it. When my dad passed… I just kept going. When both my grandmother and my grandfather passed away, I pushed the grief somewhere deep. And the murder of my best friend when I was just 10 years old? I never talked about it. Not really. I just learned to shut down and survive.
That became my default. If something felt too heavy, too complex, too painful — I ran from it emotionally. I numbed. I distracted. I performed strength.
But I know I can’t live like that forever. One day, everything I’ve buried will demand to be felt. And truthfully, it already is.
That’s why I’m in therapy now. Unpacking the “whys.” Exploring the “how comes.” Trying to give language to feelings I was never taught to express. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary.
Black, Christian, and Taught to Suppress
Growing up Black and Christian, you’re taught to be strong. To pray through the pain. To “let go and let God.” But nobody really teaches us how to feel through the pain. Or how to be soft when the world keeps telling us to be hard.
Avoidance became a coping mechanism. For some of us, it’s not that we don’t want love — we just don’t know what to do with it when it shows up. Love feels risky. Vulnerability feels dangerous. And when you’re told your whole life to hold it together, breaking down can feel like failure.
But it’s not.
My Healing Journey
I’m still learning how to stay with my emotions instead of running from them. I’m learning how to love without losing myself — or silencing myself.
Here’s what’s helping me grow:
- Noticing the patterns — especially the push/pull dynamic I had with Bradley
- Being honest about my past, even if it makes me uncomfortable
- Letting God in, not just through prayer, but through therapy, reflection, and community
- Reading scriptures like Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” That’s not just poetic — it’s personal.
Final Thoughts
So yes — I’m Black. I’m Christian. And I’ve been avoidant.
But I’m not ashamed of it anymore. I’m healing. I’m learning. I’m loving more securely — starting with myself.
And if you’re reading this and seeing yourself in my story, just know: you’re not broken. You’re not too late. You’re not too complicated to love or be loved. You’re just learning a new way — a freer, softer, more honest way.
Let’s keep talking about this. Let’s normalize feeling and healing. Especially in our community.
Because being “Black, Christian, and Avoidant” isn’t the end of the story — it’s the beginning of awareness, healing, and transformation.
Black, Christian & 