Dear Sophie:

Thank you for sharing your thoughts and for taking the time to reflect on everything. It’s clear you’re approaching this situation with care and thoughtfulness, trying to make sense of a complex dynamic while being mindful of broader discussions about autism and personality disorders.

Your openness and willingness to learn more about the situation are commendable. Please take your time as you reflect and work through it all. There’s no rush in making sense of complex emotions.

Sending you support as you navigate this. 💙

anita

Dear Mei:

In your initial post, you wrote:

“I’m still trying to make sense of everything—my role in the dynamics, the decisions I made, and what this experience is trying to teach me.”-

I would like to help you make sense of what happened—your role in the dynamics, his role, and the broader lessons this experience may hold. I will also address the question you asked at the end of your second post.

To do this, I will carefully reread what you’ve shared, reference your own words, and offer my thoughts—all with the hope of contributing to the understanding and clarity you seek.

“At seventeen, I had to support myself financially, manage my household, and keep up with a brutal academic schedule.”-

You didn’t wait for others to take care of you—you stepped up and managed everything on your own. At 17, you took on a leadership role in your own life, making difficult decisions and taking charge of your future with initiative, responsibility, and strength.

Fast forward about seven years:

“I asked him to be my boyfriend—I was so excited. I told everyone, even made a silly list of date ideas. I wanted to include him in every part of my life.”-

You took on a leadership role in the relationship. Instead of waiting for him to ask, you made the first move, showing confidence and decisiveness. You actively planned the time together—making a list of date ideas demonstrates enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, and a desire to create meaningful experiences. Your proactive approach shaped the relationship dynamic, ensuring that effort, creativity, and connection were present—at least on your side.

“As our relationship progressed, I asked him to move out of the apartment he was still sharing with his ex.”—A reasonable request, in line with your leadership role.

“I planned dates and getaways, bought him little gifts.”—A leader.

“I told him I didn’t want to pressure him and was open to finding different solutions.”—A collaborative leader.

“The meeting went well—at first—but once again, I was the only one talking about solutions.”—A proactive leader.

“In the beginning, intimacy was mutual, but after around the three-month mark, I found myself being the one who almost always initiated it.”—The initiating leader.

“I tried to find different compromises, which he would agree to during conversations, but when the moment came, he would usually pull back.”-

You took on the leadership role in problem-solving, emotional engagement, and intimacy discussions. You initiated compromise—actively seeking solutions and adjustments to make the relationship work. You guided conversations—your ex agreed to compromises in discussions, but you were the one bringing up the concerns and trying to find resolutions.

He was passive rather than proactive—agreeing in words but not following through suggests avoidance, whereas you took the initiative to address challenges head-on.

Your leadership stemmed from wanting a deeper connection and trying to sustain the relationship, but his withdrawal made it one-sided, leading to frustration and emotional exhaustion.

It seems, Mei, that there was a fundamental clash between your leadership role and your ex’s avoidant attachment tendencies. You naturally took initiative, leading the relationship in planning, emotional connection, and problem-solving. Your ex, however, withdrew in moments that required engagement, avoiding discussions about intimacy and struggles rather than addressing them.

This imbalance in effort may have made you feel alone in the relationship, while he may have felt pressured. People with avoidant attachment styles often feel overwhelmed by emotional closeness and struggle to maintain intimacy in a long-term relationship.
Your desire for connection, consistency, and physical affection clashed with his tendency to retreat, leading to frustration on both sides.

His statement—”When I have to chase, I want intimacy, but when I’m in a relationship, I stop caring.”—suggests he was more engaged in the pursuit rather than the emotional depth of partnership.

You expressed yourself openly, trying to find compromises to strengthen the relationship. He agreed in conversation but then pulled back in action, creating a cycle where you felt unheard and emotionally neglected.

His rapid transition into a new relationship suggests emotional detachment— instead of processing the breakup, he was seeking immediate validation elsewhere. You, on the other hand, reflected deeply, feeling the weight of self-abandonment and striving to understand the lessons from the relationship.

A compatible partner for you would be someone who is emotionally secure & communicative— comfortable with open discussions about emotions, intimacy, and relationship dynamics; someone who is consistent & reliable—rather than withdrawing, he would actively engage in conversations and work through challenges with you.

It’d be someone who is self-sufficient & driven—independent, responsible, and ambitious, making the relationship feel like a partnership rather than one-sided effort; someone who is reciprocal in effort & intimacy—since you tend to take the lead, a balanced partner would also initiate plans, affection, and deep conversations.

It’d be someone who is emotionally mature—capable of handling relationship complexities with honesty, reflection, and emotional depth rather than avoidance.

And that someone is not your ex.

* A compatible partner for your ex would be someone who has a more independent attachment style—doesn’t need deep emotional engagement or frequent reassurance in a relationship; someone who doesn’t demand emotional or physical consistency—more accepting of distance and emotional fluctuations rather than seeking constant connection.

It’d ne someone who prefers a low-maintenance dynamic—a relationship with fewer intense discussions where physical and emotional intimacy are not primary focuses; someone who doesn’t challenge avoidance patterns—rather than seeking clarity in discussions, she would be okay with non-confrontational dynamics.

It’d be someone wo accepts surface-level romance—enjoys the initial excitement of relationships but doesn’t need profound emotional engagement long-term.

And that someone is not you. I would say that the two of you were significantly incompatible.

One more comment regarding this: “Our arguments began to revolve exclusively around intimacy, creating a toxic pattern: I would express myself, and he would retreat into silence.”-

Arguing about physical intimacy—rather than having gentle, open discussions—is deeply damaging to both emotional and physical connection. When intimacy becomes a battleground instead of a shared experience, it kills emotional trust and can make physical closeness feel forced rather than organic. In other words, ARGUING about physical and emotional intimacy = Death of intimacy.

I would love to read your thoughts about the above, Mei.

You asked about my first breakup. My answer, however strange it may sound: I had no first breakup because I didn’t have a first relationship. At your age and much later, I wasn’t able to have a relationship. I was too sick, emotionally, to have one.

anita

Excuse the typos and extra emoji I didn’t mean to send (using my phone)

Anita

Continued:

“telling myself that my Mum is vulnerable, could be easily taken advantage of, needs my protection”- You are vulnerable and have been easily taken advantage of by your mother. You need protection from her.

“I realised that she was actively lying to me… she lies to manipulate me”- Here’s another suggestion for rebuilding your identity—root it in honesty, straightforwardness, and justice. Let these values guide you, leading you to distance yourself from those who are persistently dishonest and manipulative.

“I also think she weaponises her autism when she wants to get me to do something”- if her autism diagnosis is correct, then the part of her that weaponizes it against you is not the autistic part.

A mother should protect and nurture her daughter, not use emotional weapons against her. Parenthood should be built on care and support, not manipulation or control.

“I think, for me, the nail in the coffin – this time – has been that my Mother has started reaching out to my husband directly.. I don’t want my husband sucked into her vortex”- seems like she’s trying to pull him into the same dynamic, extending her reach beyond just you. I am guessing that if you had children, she would try to pull them too into the same dynamic.

“When I think about having no contact myself, where I always fall down is – not so much that I feel guilt that she would be sad about this, because I truthfully don’t think she would be upset in that way, because I just don’t think she’s capable of it – it’s more the conditioning that, if something happens to her, it would be my fault or responsibility. That’s what I struggle to make peace with. I just have this little nagging voice in my head that’s constantly saying, ‘she’s in danger, if you don’t step in… something terrible will happen. She’ll die and it’ll be your fault’.”-

I, too, was terrified as a child that my mother would die. I saw how fragile and needy she was, and I feared for her. She spoke of suicide—describing how she would end her life—forcing me to carry the weight of that fear.

A child needs a strong, stable parent. When a parent is too weak and suicidal, it becomes deeply traumatic for the child, who, in an attempt to cope, takes on a parentified role—constantly trying to support, protect, and strengthen the parent, hoping that one day, the parent will finally be able to care for the child in return.

It’s interesting how, even as adults, we continue to operate from that perspective—still waiting for the parent to become the parent they never were.

“There is a part of my brain that tells me that – if her behaviour is caused by her autism… then that’s not her fault and so surely I should be more understanding and accommodating… Equally, if it is some kind of personality disorder…should I not be understanding of this too, because that’s also not her fault?”-

I don’t believe your mother behaves the same way with everyone in every circumstance. It seems she takes advantage of those she perceives as weak and accommodating, while withdrawing from those she views as strong and self-assured. If that’s the case, then her behavior isn’t entirely beyond her control—there is an element of choice. Unlike a psychotic episode, which removes a person’s ability to make rational decisions, a personality disorder may still allow for selective behavior, particularly when it benefits the individual.

Hold your mother accountable—not for her emotions, but for the choices she makes in how she treats you and others.

“Also, truthfully, there is still the little inner child part of me that desperately wants a mother. Looking back, I think I got myself into this pattern of.. if I just fix this one thing (and it was always one more thing), then MAYBE, just MAYBE, we can have a ‘normal’ mother/daughter relationship and everything will be okay.”-

It will take grieving the reality that you never had—and never will have—the mother you needed in her. Only through this acceptance can the longing begin to quiet, freeing you from chasing someone who was never truly there.

This kind of grief isn’t easy, but it is necessary. In letting go of the hope for a relationship that cannot be, you create space to nurture yourself in the way you always deserved.

* I wrote the above before I even read your words: “definitely a kind of grief for a relationship that can never exist.”

“sometimes, I would be physically unwell – and I would worry that my manager at work wouldn’t believe me if I called in sick, or that I was actually making it up, because I was so used to having my own feelings and needs minimised, that I couldn’t even trust myself to know and accept when I was actually physically ill.”-

Same here—I used to second-guess my own reality constantly. Only recently have I started trusting my understanding of myself and my life more and more. The difference in my mental state is profound, to say the least.

“I just have to find the strength to see this through and to prioritise myself. Truthfully, I don’t know if I can do it… or where even to begin. But I desperately want to try.”-

Think of prioritizing your values as the first step—honesty, straightforwardness, and justice. Let these principles guide you as you begin choosing yourself.

“Added complication for me is that I have ADHD”- me too, similar responses to similar mothers, I think.

“Maybe the inevitable outcome is no contact. I don’t think I am there, yet, or that I can be until I know everything is in place for her to be okay.”-

I think her ‘not being okay’ is, consciously or not, a way to keep control over you—to keep you attached and under her influence. She may be continuing behaviors that work for her, even if she isn’t fully aware of it.

Ironically, I believe there’s a greater chance for her to be as ‘okay’ as possible if you choose to cut contact. In stepping away, you free both of you from this unhealthy dynamic—giving her the space to navigate her own life without relying on you as a constant emotional crutch.

Can you imagine, Sophie, that ending contact with her might be the right choice—not just for your own well-being, but for hers as well?

anita