Imagine Your Avoidant Ex Actually Goes to Therapy

Writing this is making me laugh already.

I mean—imagine it. Your avoidant ex. In therapy. Sitting across from a therapist, being gently asked to look inward. Truly inward.

The idea alone is almost comedic.

Because for decades, the avoidant has been utterly convinced there is nothing wrong with them. They’re strong. Independent. Sorted. Above emotions. Immune to messiness. They’ve got life figured out, thank you very much.

Except… they don’t.

And once the illusion finally cracks—once you see it clearly—it’s actually funny. Not cruel funny. Ironic funny. The kind of laughter that comes from clarity.

You realise you have zero respect left for the version of them you once admired. You thought they were mysterious, emotionally grounded, independent, successful. You thought their distance meant depth.

Oh wow. What were you even thinking?!!

Because now you see them plainly for who they really are: a frightened, unhealed child dressed up in competence and detachment.

And this—this—is exactly why avoidants so rarely go to therapy.

Because therapy would require honesty.

They’d have to admit they married their partner not out of love, but because there was no emotional risk involved. They’d have to admit they chose safety over intimacy. Familiarity over truth. Risk management over true love.

They’d have to face the reality that their marriage filled a space where real love should have existed.

Imagine the fury of the devoted, loyal, doormat partner when that truth finally surfaces.

Imagine the devastation of realising your entire relationship was built on fear, not love. On avoidance, not connection.

Imagine discovering that the person you built your life around was privately thinking about someone else—the one they truly loved but discarded because real love required emotional closeness, vulnerability, and truth.

No, no. That's all far too dangerous.

So instead, the avoidant stays entrenched. Marries. Has children. Builds the “successful life.” Performs happiness for the world. Lies to everyone—including themselves.

And for a while, it works.

Until it doesn’t.

The unease starts quietly. A gnawing feeling. Then louder. Then unavoidable. They grow more distant. Separate bedrooms. Low-level anxiety humming constantly beneath the surface. The pieces begin to assemble.

What have I done?

But now it’s “too late.” There’s a family. Responsibilities. A life built on decisions made from fear.

So what do they do?

Yep you guessed it!

Dismiss. Avoid. Work more. Earn more. Buy more.

More holidays. More status symbols. More Land Rover Defenders. A six-door Aga. Maybe a holiday home will finally do it.

Except it doesn’t.

Because nothing will—until the avoidant tells the truth.

Until they pull down the façade. Until they stop running. Until they become honest with themselves and everyone around them.

And that’s why most of them never do.

They’ve created such an elaborate farce that they don’t know how to exit it. They’ve avoided truth for so long that they’ve forgotten how to speak it.

That’s usually when the nervous breakdown arrives—often in the mid-forties. It’s classic. Predictable. Almost textbook.

No inner work. No self-reflection. Just broken hearts, discarded love, and decades of emotional evasion.

And now? Misery.

Oh dear. Better go to therapy.

But here’s the part that matters most:

Don’t wait for them.

You did the work. You healed. They didn’t.

Laugh—not from bitterness, but from freedom. Move on—not to prove anything, but because you’ve outgrown them.

You’re ready now for someone emotionally available. Someone honest. Someone healed.

Feel compassion for their partner—the one who stayed without self-respect. But don’t stay stuck there with them.

You are towering over that old dynamic now.

They remain exactly where they are.

So laugh. Play. Rejoice.

You’re free.

You won.

And I love you for that.

TR