The Little Truths of Attachment and Love

Welcome to Little Truths

A series of stories exploring the duality of our emotional experiences during times of turmoil. In those moments when we feel everything, we gain perspective—the ability to understand our little truths. My hope is that this series brings you peace, grace, understanding, and love.

Now more than ever, we need care—deep, human care—to feel alive, connected, and to trust our inner wisdom.

The Little Truths of Attachment and Love

Three years ago, I walked away from a toxic relationship, leaving behind everything I knew—a family, a home, and a life that was never truly mine. Since that ending, I’ve stepped into a new beginning in ways I never could have imagined.

My greatest teachers have been my triggers—those quiet whispers in the soul that reveal unhealed wounds and limiting beliefs. People can be our teachers or our tormentors; it all depends on our attachment blueprint.

My attachment style is disorganized—where I both crave closeness and fear it deeply. This became clear as I examined my family dynamics: an abusive, addicted mother carrying her own trauma, a father who abandoned me at 12, and grandparents who dismissed emotions as weakness, believing I needed a thicker skin. From these relationships, I learned that my needs didn’t matter—because no one was attuned enough to acknowledge them. Their absence, both physical and emotional, shaped my disorganized attachment.

If you’re curious about attachment styles, I recommend Attached or simply searching online. It’s fascinating to study but painful to embody—grieving both what you had and what you never received.

Little Truth #1

When the unconscious becomes conscious, you begin to see the patterns—and are no longer controlled by them.

For me, this first surfaced in my choice of partners. I kept gravitating toward men who felt “off,” though I couldn’t pinpoint why. They were physically present but emotionally absent. It wasn’t until I met someone who was fully present that I realized the difference.

He was in touch with his emotions and could express them, just as I could. Until then, I hadn’t realized I was unconsciously attracting emotionally unavailable men—because all my primary caregivers had been that way. I had no other reference point.

When I met this man, I was still at the beginning of my healing journey. I believe the universe placed him in my path to help me feel the difference. The little truth here? I still attract emotionally unavailable men, but I no longer entertain their avoidance.

Healing doesn’t mean the patterns vanish overnight—it means recognizing them in real time and making different choices. Now, when I notice these dynamics, I have an internal dialogue with my inner child, reassuring her that this person is not safe. I re-parent her in the moment, choosing differently for both of us. What a beautiful gift.