Dear Avoidant Ex

Dear Avoidant,

You don’t like that word.

It feels accusatory. Like someone is calling you cold, distant, incapable of love.

But you’re not incapable of love.

You’re afraid of what it costs.

You felt something once — something deep, consuming, undeniable. It wasn’t casual. It wasn’t convenient. It reached inside you and asked for more than you were ready to give.

So you did what you’ve always done when something feels too big:

You stepped back.

You analyzed.

You found reasons.

You convinced yourself it wasn’t right.

And when that didn’t quiet the fear, you pulled away.

Now you’re somewhere safer.

With someone who doesn’t ask for your depths.

With a love that doesn’t shake you.

With a connection that doesn’t threaten your independence.

It’s peaceful.

But it’s not alive.

And that’s why there’s something growing inside you — a quiet, gnawing unhappiness you can’t quite name. It shows up at night. In moments of silence. In flashes of memory.

You don’t miss drama.

You miss feeling.

You miss being met.

You miss the version of yourself that almost let go of control.

Here’s the truth you avoid:

You didn’t push them away because they were wrong for you. You pushed them away because they mattered.

And that level of mattering terrified you.

So what do you do now?

First — stop pretending you’re satisfied. You can survive half-love. You’re good at surviving. But you are not built for half-alive.

Second — stop shaming yourself. Avoidance isn’t evil. It’s a strategy. It protected you once. But protection can become a prison when you don’t update it.

Third — take responsibility without dramatics. Not “I ruined everything.” Not “I’m the worst.” Just:

“I was scared, and I acted from fear.”

That sentence alone is growth.

Fourth — get uncomfortable on purpose. Therapy. Honest conversations. Staying present when your instinct is to withdraw. Saying “I care” before your mind talks you out of it.

You don’t need to chase the person you lost with grand gestures. What you need is to become someone who doesn’t run from love when it feels real.

If they’re still reachable, approach them slowly. Humbly. With changed behaviour, not just changed words.

If they’re gone, let the regret transform you instead of harden you.

Because here’s what you don’t want to admit:

The unhappiness you feel isn’t about them.

It’s about you knowing you are capable of deeper love than you allowed yourself to give.

And that knowledge will not go away.

You can keep choosing safe.

Or you can choose brave.

But you cannot keep choosing half-love and expect your heart to stay quiet about it.