When You Realise the Avoidant was More Damaged Than You!

There’s a moment — not sudden, but gradual — when it finally dawns on you: the person who pushed you away, who made you feel like you were “too much,” too emotional, too confrontational, too intense — they were the one more damaged than you.

I used to think I was the problem. I was the empath — deeply emotional, hungry for connection, desperate to love and be loved in return.

And he was the mirror opposite: emotionally unavailable, avoidant, terrified of intimacy. We had that rare, once-in-a-lifetime chemistry, and we both knew it. But while I leaned in, he pulled away.

In the beginning, I blamed myself. I thought if I could just be calmer, quieter, less confrontational, things would work. I took it on myself to carry the emotional weight for the both of us. And then when he trapped me with breadcrumb messages for years I suffered indescribably.

But finally, I went to therapy, not just for my pain, but to try to understand his.

And that’s when it started to shift.

Slowly, through my healing, I came to see the truth: he was deeply wounded. More than me.

While I reached out to connect, to understand, to heal — he avoided. Because that’s what avoidants do best. They avoid. They ghost, they block, they shut down when things get real.

They say, “You’re too emotional,” or “I can’t do this right now,” when what they really mean is: I’m terrified of vulnerability.

They’re not fine. They just know how to act fine. And there's a MASSIVE difference. And you're the only one on earth who sees the real them...

Paradoxically, they need you more than anyone in order to heal - but guess what? That terrifies them even more!

It’s easy to believe their mask of 'independence,' of 'togetherness' — for a while. That it’s you with the issue. That you’re too intense, too emotional, too much. But once the fog clears, you see it for what it really was.

Their inability to stay was never about your worth. It was about their wounds.

I suffered terribly in that connection. The hot-and-cold, the breadcrumbing, the moments of deep intimacy followed by silence. I had a fear of abandonment — just like him. But where I clung, he fled. Same wound, opposite expression. It's true: opposites attract. And sometimes, opposites destroy each other.

I lost myself trying to make sense of it. I spiraled into depression. I took pills. I went through painful withdrawals. I wasted months, maybe years, trying to figure out what I did wrong.

But here’s the truth: I didn’t do anything wrong.

I wanted love. I offered connection. I showed up.

And now, I’ve healed. I’m whole. Independent. No longer chasing closure from someone incapable of giving it. I gave myself the ending he never could.

Maybe he’ll never heal. Maybe he’ll never understand what happened between us. Maybe he’ll keep running, keep blaming, keep avoiding. Maybe one day he’ll feel that quiet ache — that gnawing sense of regret — and wonder why he couldn’t hold onto the real thing when it was right in front of him.

But that’s no longer my burden to carry.

I took the painful route. I sat with the discomfort, the grief, the heartbreak. I didn’t hide behind a rebound, or distract myself with someone new. I faced it, processed it, healed from it.

And now? I’m free.

That’s the real win. Not getting them back — but getting yourself back - but more than that - this time you're stronger, wiser, and whole.

And the biggest paradox of all?

We have the avoidant to thank for it!

TR