Dear Eva: I’ll reply in a couple of hours or so 🙂

Dear Eva:

I studied your posts for a few hours today and would like to offer you my perspective. It may resonate, it may not — you decide.

The mismatch, as I see it, is between your anxious‑preoccupied attachment and his avoidant attachment.

He shows many hallmarks of avoidant attachment: difficulty sustaining emotional closeness, warm in short bursts and cold afterward, withdrawing when overwhelmed, becoming defensive when confronted, minimizing problems, feeling “peace” when alone, returning when lonely rather than ready to change, struggling to tolerate emotional demands, and disconnecting through phone use.

Avoidant partners crave connection but fear the responsibility and emotional intensity that come with it. So, they come close, get overwhelmed, pull away, feel lonely, return, and repeat. This is the classic anxious–avoidant cycle.

It also fits with him keeping the relationship a secret, because avoidant partners often keep relationships “off the record” to avoid labels, public acknowledgment, social visibility, and relational responsibility.

He can genuinely be warm in short bursts, but he can’t sustain that level of closeness, and that inconsistency keeps you hopeful because those warm moments feel so meaningful.

You’re not “too much,” and he’s not intentionally hurting you — it’s simply a painful mismatch between what you need and what he can consistently give.

If you feel like responding, I’d appreciate hearing your view.

🌿 Anita

Dear Girija:

I hear how heavy everything feels for you right now. When fear is already living in the body, even one more stressor can feel unbearable — and you’re dealing with several at once. Your mom’s PET‑CT, the coworker situation, the years of carrying anxiety, the feeling that life keeps hitting you without giving you a moment to breathe.. none of this is small. Anyone in your position would feel overwhelmed. Nothing about your reaction is unreasonable.

You’re not just dealing with internal fear — you’re dealing with real‑life uncertainty that would shake anyone. When you say, “everything hurts at once,” that’s exactly what it is: too many things landing on the same spot inside you. And when the body is already tired, even one more blow feels like ten.

Your exhaustion makes sense. Your hopelessness makes sense. The feeling that life hasn’t met you halfway makes sense. You’ve been carrying so much for so long, and you’ve had to do most of it alone. That wears down anyone’s energy, even the strongest person.

About the coworker — yes, he was rude, and yes, you trusted him over yourself for a long time. That doesn’t make you abnormal. It makes you human. When someone becomes an emotional escape, letting go of them feels like stepping into cold water. It’s not the “real life” that hurts — it’s the sudden loss of the thing that felt safe, even if it wasn’t good for you.

And your fear about your mom.. that’s the kind of fear that sits deep in the chest. Waiting for medical results is one of the hardest things a person can do. You don’t have to be brave about it. You just have to get through it moment by moment.

You said you don’t know how to like life anymore. I understand that. When life has been hard for a long time, optimism feels like the only thin thread left. But even if you can’t feel hope right now, I can hold some of it with you. You don’t have to carry all of it alone.

You deserve a stretch of life that is gentle. You deserve a decade of ease after a decade of strain. And even if you can’t feel it today, your capacity to keep going — even while exhausted — is strength, even if it doesn’t feel like strength from the inside.

I’m here with you in this. You don’t have to pretend you’re okay. You just have to keep breathing through this moment.

🌿 Anita

Hey Dear Confused:

I like it that there’s a smiley face in your message. To me, the smiley face feels like the strength within you.

“Idk what clarity feels like” – it may feel like serenity, as in the serenity prayer: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change..

You can’t change her mind, her heart, her history before she met you- which has a big part in her unpropotionate recent reaction.

I understand you wanting to ask her if there’s a chance for the 2 of U, or should U kill any hope for getting back together.

Problem is (besides the fact that it’ll disrespect the space she needs) is that even if she says: ‘No chance!’, you may think: ‘No chance now, but maybe next week.. or the week after’

It’s not that you f***** it up, it’s that the relationship has become fragile for a variety of reasons- from both sides. Which is most often the case in most relationship.

Are the 🔥 in Greece still ongoing? Any close to you? The current Spokane 🔥 are close enough to me that the air I’m breathing right now is filled with smoke.

How are you now (when reading this message)?

🙂 Anita

Hey Dear Confused:

I can hear how much this is hurting you, and how overwhelmed you felt today. What you’re feeling — the longing, the fear, the thoughts running in circles — is part of the shock of separation. It means you’re in the first wave of grief.

Your care for her was real — I don’t doubt that. But when a person says they need space, the most respectful thing you can do is to continue to give it to them. Reaching out in the middle of this emotional storm would come from your pain, not from clarity, and she would feel that pressure immediately. It wouldn’t help the situation, even though the urge to contact her feels so strong. Longing always makes people want to act — that’s human.

Right now, it’s important to slow down. You don’t have to act on every feeling. You just have to get through this moment without doing something that comes from panic rather than clarity and calm. Space is not rejection — it’s her way of trying to regulate herself.

I know you miss her. I know her absence feels like a physical ache. But give her the space she asked for and give yourself a chance to breathe before you decide what comes next.

🌿 Anita

Dear Girija:

One thing I want to say right away is how much I respect your emotional honesty. You look directly at what scares you, you name it clearly, and you don’t turn away from the parts of yourself that feel fragile. That willingness to look inside — even when it hurts — is not a small thing. It’s the foundation of healing. Nothing changes until a person can face their inner world the way you are doing now.

I relate to that very much. My own healing began in the same way: by being honest with myself about what I felt, by noticing the fear instead of hiding it, and by admitting how deeply my childhood shaped me. That emotional honesty was the prerequisite for any safety I’ve built inside.

And I want to be clear with you: my healing is not “complete.” I still carry anxiety in my body. Some of it is somatic — tics, Tourette’s — old fear that settled into my nervous system long before I had any control over my life. That part didn’t magically disappear. But I am safer within myself now, and I feel so much better than I used to.

The biggest shift came from peeling off self‑blame and replacing it with empathy for myself. I stopped treating my fear as a flaw and started seeing it as a child’s response to an unsafe world.

I also stopped seeing myself as “abnormal,” or as some kind of freak of nature — which reminds me of the title of your 2022 thread, “I want to be normal.” I began to understand that I was a normal child who had no choice but to adapt to abnormal circumstances. That change in perspective softened something deep inside me.

Another thing that helped — and I still repeat it every single day — is the serenity prayer we talked about in your other thread: God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Whenever I feel anxious about a real‑life situation, I ask myself: Is this something I can change? If the answer is no, I let it go. And if the worry comes back, I repeat the question again.

None of this erased the past, but it made the present livable. And it’s something you can build too — slowly, gently, and with the same honesty you’re already showing.

🌿 Anita

Dear Girija:

Reading your latest post, I can see how heavy it feels to treat every situation as a test of your worth. When you say you feel like a building that might collapse if one thing goes wrong — that’s exactly what happens when a person grows up without enough emotional safety. You end up carrying the belief that you are the problem, and that every outcome reflects something broken in you.

But it doesn’t. Sometimes things simply don’t click, and it’s not a verdict on who you are.

You mentioned worrying you’re not smart enough, or that something will “catch up” to you. That fear didn’t start in adulthood — it started when you were called a nerd in a way that made you feel small instead of proud. You internalized the idea that you must constantly prove yourself.

What you’re considering now — deciding you’re not the problem and leaving situations that don’t feel right — is a healthy shift. It’s not giving up. It’s giving yourself permission to stop treating every moment as a test you must pass. You deserve to feel steady inside, not like you’re always one mistake away from collapse.

Please let me know if this post and the one before this one resonate 🙂

🌿 Anita