The Psychology of Avoidance

One of the most perplexing of all our behaviours is our tendency – in relationships – to flee from the warmth and affection it is so natural for us to want. In the face of someone who seems to like us very much, who smiles tenderly at us whenever we walk in the room and is interested in the details of our lives, some of us may respond in an extremely counterintuitive way: by feeling nauseous and (in time, probably) running away.

To understand this kind of emotional avoidance, we might draw an analogy with food. Let’s imagine someone who grew up in an impoverished setting with a severely restricted diet: they had no option but to get used to only the smallest meals. The only way to survive was to need nearly nothing. 

We might assume that, when finally presented with abundance, this person would eagerly try to make up for lost time. But of course the very opposite occurs. Their digestive system, having adapted to scarcity, cannot process the richness before them. The very sight of a full plate may generate anxiety; they may fall ill in the face of the plenty they had so long desired.

So too in love, those among us who grew up in households where affection was severely rationed may principally have learnt to want very little from other people. When a partner expresses immense interest in our day, we may feel suffocated rather than cared for. When someone wants to spend every evening together, we can feel trapped rather than wanted. When our lover expresses admiration, we can experience inadequacy rather than satisfaction. If someone speaks to us of marriage, our first temptation may be to go and flirt with an ex. Our discomfort is a central legacy and indicator of our deprivation.

If we can accept that our condition isn’t a sign of evil but simply the result of a certain sort of melancholy upbringing, we may develop the courage one day to explain the situation to a partner (and first, of course, to ourselves). We can, without shame, teach our beloved that the kindest thing they might be able to do for us is not to be too kind to us or at least not too soon; the most generous thing would be not to be too abundant. We want their love for sure, but we require it in very small doses and not all at once. We are going to need time on our own, there shouldn’t be too many hugs, compliments should be spaced apart. We appreciate the loveliness, we just need to take it in with a teaspoon.

Understanding why love has to be titrated like this helps to move our other partner away from feeling insulted, and then getting angry and perhaps resorting to pejorative descriptions of our avoidant condition (commitment phobia, fear of intimacy etc.). We can both know that our way of approaching love was at the outset a very logical and intelligent adaptation to conditions of emotional scarcity that we didn’t choose – and that has nothing to do with meanness or pathology. 

At the same time, the more we can we understand the genesis of our sense of being overwhelmed, the more we stand eventually to perceive that our caution has outlived its uses. We may be able to bear the ecstasy and plenitude of mutual love, we may no longer need to protect ourselves so assiduously against what nourishes and heals us.