Clingy, Cold, or Chaos Goblin? A Curious Look at Attachment Styles and Learning to Feel Safe Again

ATTACHMENT THEORY: sounds fancy and academic, but let’s be honest—it’s really just a science-y way of explaining why your friend ghosted you, why you triple-texted them afterward, and why your group chat feels vaguely like a second family-slash-cult.

At its core, attachment theory is about how we seek safety and connection. And spoiler alert: if your nervous system feels like a tiny squirrel on an espresso binge every time someone gets too close—or too far away—you’re not broken. You’re adaptive. You learned some excellent strategies that may have once kept you emotionally safe… but might now be getting in the way of your grown-up goals. Like learning new things, building meaningful relationships, or not emotionally spiraling because someone took too long to reply to your email.

Let’s explore this with curiosity, not judgment. Bring your inner anthropologist. Or your inner raccoon, if that feels more accurate.

A Quick Field Guide to Attachment Styles (and Their Mood Boards)

1. Anxious Attachment (this is totally me):
Also known as “Do you still like me? What about now? And now?” This style is born when care was inconsistent. Sometimes nurturing, sometimes not. You learned to hustle for love—hyper-attuned to other people’s moods, reactions, and texting patterns.

• Your nervous system: Always on. Like a toddler who missed nap time.

• Learning challenge: Hard to focus when your brain thinks social rejection = imminent doom.

• Curious reframe: “What if I could trust that connection can survive space?”

2. Avoidant Attachment:
“Feelings? In this economy?” You might have learned that independence = safety. Big feelings were ignored or punished, so you went full lone wolf.

• Your nervous system: Ice bath chic. Keeps calm, represses on.

• Learning challenge: Discomfort with interdependence; struggle receiving help or feedback.

• Curious reframe: “What if needing people didn’t mean losing myself?”

3. Disorganized (Chaotic) Attachment:
When caregivers were both the source of comfort and fear, the attachment strategy becomes… a little fried. Think of a smoke detector that goes off whether you’re making toast or running from a bear.

• Your nervous system: Like a raccoon in a thunderstorm wearing pants for the first time.

• Learning challenge: Trust is hard. Safety feels unfamiliar, even dangerous.

• Curious reframe: “What if I didn’t have to choose between connection and protection?”

Why This Matters for Learning (And Not Just in Therapy)

Here’s the kicker: you can’t learn when your nervous system feels unsafe.

When we’re anxious, avoidant, or chaotic, our brains prioritize survival, not curiosity. And while that’s super helpful if you're running from a bear, it’s less helpful when trying to build new habits, grow resilience, or sit through a workshop about PowerPoint transitions.

So what do we do?

Building Safety: Inside and Out

This isn’t about fixing yourself. This is about nurturing capacity. Think of it like watering a plant that was stuck in dry soil. You don’t blame the plant for wilting. You change the soil, give it light, and try not to yell at it when it leans toward the window.

Internal Safety: Befriending Yourself

• Name your patterns, kindly. “Oh, look, I’m in hyper-alert squirrel mode again.” No shame. Just curiosity.

• Body-based practices. Breathwork, stretching, or humming. Give your body signals that it’s not under attack.

• Reparenting rituals. Write yourself a compassionate note. Or have a snack. Seriously—snacks are therapeutic.

External Safety: Choose Your Village

• Co-regulate with safe people. Who makes you feel calm just by existing? Hang out with them more.

• Boundaries are not barriers. They’re clarity. Let people know what helps you feel safe.

• Practice receiving. Compliments. Help. Cookies. Let connection land.

Capacity Is Built, Not Born

The beauty of being a human (weird raccoon brain and all) is that attachment isn’t destiny. It’s a map. You can learn new routes. You can practice feeling safe, then practice learning new things while feeling safe. Over time, your system gets the memo: “Oh. We’re okay now.”

And then—curiosity returns.

You might start asking better questions. About the world, about yourself, about how to finally put together IKEA furniture without crying.

And in that space, growth becomes possible. Play becomes possible. Even joy.

Final Thought:

Your attachment style isn’t a flaw. It’s a strategy that kept you going. Now, you get to update it. With love. With science. And maybe with some light emotional raccoon taming.

Stay curious, stay kind—to yourself most of all.

Josh Wilde, LAC, LSW