The Epidemic of Avoidants
I hate avoidants.
I feel like every relationship I’ve been in has been with one, and I can’t do it anymore. It’s like we, as a society, have completely forgotten how to be grown-ups and actually talk about our feelings. Somehow, silence has replaced honesty, distance has replaced love, and ghosting has become more normal than staying.
I’ve had partners who would rather let hours, shit, even days go by without speaking to me, fully knowing I was hurt, fully knowing something was wrong. I’ve had people who looked me in the eye, heard me tell them what I needed, and still chose to retreat into themselves instead of showing up.
Do you know what it feels like to watch someone you love turn away from you, not because you did something unforgivable, but because acknowledging their part would make them feel like the bad guy? I’ve begged for conversations, for clarity, for the tiniest sign that they cared enough to repair the crack between us. Instead, I was left sitting in silence, treated like my hurt was inconvenient.
And avoidance always dresses itself up as something noble. “I just need space.” “I don’t want to fight.” “I’m protecting my peace.” But really, it’s emotional cowardice. It’s the inability to sit with discomfort. It’s choosing your own comfort over the relationship every single time. And society applauds it. We’ve turned ignoring people into self-care when really it’s just neglect with better branding.
I know where avoidance comes from. I know it’s rooted in trauma, childhoods where love was inconsistent, where closeness was dangerous, where silence felt safer than conflict. I can understand that on a human level. But understanding it doesn’t erase the damage it causes. Because avoidance doesn’t just protect the avoidant, it punishes the person who actually wants to show up.
I can admit: I am an anxious person by nature. I overthink, I worry, I crave closeness, reassurance, and consistency. Sometimes that makes me clingy. Sometimes it makes me spiral in ways that aren’t fair to the other person. I know this about myself. I know that anxiety can be just as unhealthy as avoidance when it isn’t managed. But here’s the difference, my anxiety makes me reach toward people, not away. I want to talk it through. I want to solve it. I want to bring it to the table and work through the mess together.
When this collides with avoidance, it becomes a cruel tug-of-war. I reach out, and they pull away. I text because I miss them; they leave me on read. I try to address an issue; they vanish, hoping it’ll dissolve on its own. I open the door for honesty; they slam it shut because admitting they’re wrong feels like a death sentence. And I’m left carrying the weight of both of us, apologizing, shrinking, convincing myself that asking for the bare minimum somehow makes me the problem.
And the truth is, it isn’t just personal, it’s cultural. We live in an avoidant age. Ghosting is expected. Being detached is considered attractive. People call themselves “unbothered” as if it’s a badge of honor, but really, it’s just another way of saying “I don’t know how to love out loud.” Vulnerability has become the enemy, intimacy a weakness. But what happens when everyone is avoiding? Who’s left to actually show up?
We’ve confused avoidance with maturity when it’s actually fear dressed up as boundaries. Real boundaries require communication. They require the courage to say, “This hurt me,” or “I need this to feel safe.” Avoidance is the opposite of that; it’s hiding. And I’m tired of calling it love when it’s really just running away.
So this is my confession: I’m done with avoidants. I’m done with the long silences, the stonewalling, the way my pain is met with distance instead of care. I don’t want to chase someone into the shadows anymore. I want someone who stays in the room. Someone who listens when I say I’m hurt. Someone who can admit when they’re wrong without turning it into an indictment of their character.
The epidemic of avoidants might be everywhere, but I refuse to catch it.
Edit: this comment is getting a lot of traction. If you resonate with these words dm me your substack and I will engage with your work. I want to support small writers....
I'm going to speak harsh reality. I long since realized that anxious attachment is another type of emotional cowardice. Anxious people tend to project onto avoidants as the villain but do not hold themselves accountable. The question is why have you self-abandoned and stayed with someone who does not honor your needs? Why do you cling onto someone who you know has trauma and then turn around and blame them? It is because you are so uncomfortable in your own anxiety that you will take any breadcrumbs given even if it's from the wrong person and then hate that them when they don't meet the expectations that you have projected onto them. It is because you are running away from your own pain, avoiding yourself by expecting others to soothe you. Every time you stay in situations that don't honor you, you abandon yourself in the same way that the avoidants do. No, you're not a bad guy either. You're just hurt but so are the avoidants. The projections are hurtful and unhelpful. As long as you don't recognize how you also abandon yourself you'll continue to enter these cycles..
self care & “protecting ur peace” has really turned into this “radical self love” movement when in reality, yall are just unhealed and unwilling to face ur feelings & the facts. i say this all the time, ppl are just avoidant & im tired of it being masked as girlboss or choosing u.
it’s always refreshing knowing that other ppl feel this way too. def makes one less hopeless when dating. thanks for sharing this piece, great read.