When I read “Attached,” I thought it would help me understand relationship dynamics, which I find fascinating. As I shared in my previous post about my own mixture of secure attachment with anxious traits, I wasn’t expecting one book to answer questions for both Robert and me.
For years, Robert believed he was avoidant.
It made sense to him.
He doesn’t enjoy conflict.
He’s not reactive.
He’s calm.
He’s slow to assume the worst.
People at work have even described him as lacking emotion.
My family teased him about it, too.
I used to joke that he would have made a wonderful oncologist because he could gently deliver terrible news by simply saying, “This isn’t good news.”
Not in a cold way.
Actually, in the warmest way possible.
That’s always been Robert.
Even when we were dating, he didn’t always choose to spend every free moment with me. But when he told me, he did it with so much kindness and warmth that I couldn’t quite reach the conclusion my friends reached, that we should break up.
Then I read about avoidant attachment.
The more I learned, the less Robert sounded avoidant.
Avoidantly attached people often fiercely protect their independence.
They tend to value autonomy over interdependence.
Deep dependence can feel uncomfortable.
That wasn’t Robert.
Robert was the one who asked me to leave my career and stay home with our children.
He wanted to build a life where we depended on each other.
We share finances.
We built a home.
We’re raising four children.
Our lives are deeply intertwined.
That isn’t someone avoiding attachment.
That’s someone deeply attached.
The more I read, the more I realized Robert wasn’t avoidant at all.
Actually, he’s often the most emotionally steady person in the room.
He wasn’t avoidant.
He was secure.
What I found most interesting was how far from the truth both of our assumptions were.
As we sat on the porch talking about everything I had learned, Robert told me he had always assumed he was avoidant because he had once heard a fitness podcast briefly mention attachment styles. They described avoidant people as calm and independent, but they never explained what secure attachment actually looked like.
As I explained what I had learned, I accidentally answered a question I had been asking about him for years.
Why wasn’t he jealous?
For years, I thought those were two separate questions.
They weren’t.
They had the same answer.
Robert wasn’t calm because he loved me less or because he wasn’t attracted to me.
Or that he didn’t think it would be the worst thing to lose me.
He was calm because his mind wasn’t organized around the expectation of losing me.
His mind wasn’t set at a negative outcome default.
That realization changed everything.
The very thing that convinced Robert he was avoidant was actually evidence of his secure attachment.
And the very thing I interpreted as a lack of passion was, in many ways, evidence of the same thing.
He isn’t what people expect.
A few nights ago, Robert and I were sitting at a bar when something happened that made me laugh.
A man Robert had greeted earlier noticed him walk away to pay our tab. He came over and asked, “Are you Robert’s wife?”
When I said yes, he smiled.
“When Robert turns around, I want you to hug me. Let’s see his face.”
I laughed.
“I’ll hug you,” I said, “but you’re not going to get the reaction you’re hoping for.”
He looked confused.
“Really?”
“No,” I said. “First, Robert is going to know it’s a joke because I don’t hug random people. And second, he’s probably just going to roll his eyes because that’s simply not who he is.”
The man couldn’t believe it.
When Robert came back, I told him what had happened, and we all laughed.
Driving home, I realized something.
For years, I thought I was the only one trying to explain Robert.
I wasn’t.
My friends had explanations.
My family had explanations.
Strangers had explanations.
I had explanations.
Everyone was observing the same man.
Everyone was assigning a different meaning to his behavior.
Attachment theory didn’t change Robert.
It changed the story I believed about him.
While his behavior remains the same.
My perspective and interpretation of it have definitely changed.
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