A reflection on letting people go and learning what true boundaries mean
Healing brings revelations—some beautiful, some uncomfortable.
One of the more difficult truths I’ve had to face lately is that I have a dismissive avoidant attachment style. On the surface, it sounds clinical. But beneath that label lies a pattern I know all too well:
I detach easily.
I let people go without much noise.
I distance myself from those I once truly cared for—not because I’ve stopped caring, but because closeness starts to feel like a threat.
It’s not always dramatic. Sometimes it’s subtle: a slow withdrawal, a missed reply, a wall that rises silently between us. And then one day, I realize I’ve drifted away entirely.
At first, I chalked it up to healing. I thought, “I’ve just raised my standards. I no longer tolerate what drains me.”
And that’s partly true.
But when I looked deeper, I realized something else:
Sometimes the way I “protect my peace” is actually just a familiar form of self-protection. A pattern. A reflex. A survival strategy that says, “Don’t get too close. You might get hurt. You might lose yourself.”
The Confusing Duality
What’s difficult is that I also value kindness—deeply. It’s been at the heart of who I am for as long as I can remember. I want to lead with warmth. I want to care. I want to be soft.
But as I’ve become harder on the world to be softer on myself, I’ve noticed a tension:
I fear that in guarding my peace, I may also be guarding my heart too tightly.
This has been my quiet question:
- How do I protect myself without pushing everyone away?
- How do I set boundaries without losing connection?
- How do I stay kind without betraying myself—or disappearing inside someone else?
What I’ve Learned So Far
I’ve learned that having a dismissive avoidant attachment style doesn’t make me incapable of love. It just means that love—and closeness—have historically felt unsafe or unreliable. So I learned to rely on myself. I learned to downplay my needs. I learned that detachment equals survival.
But now that I’m healing, I want something deeper.
I want real intimacy.
Not the kind that swallows me, but the kind that makes space for me.
The kind that lets me be both strong and soft.
Boundaried and open.
Discerning and kind.
So I’m learning to pause before I pull away.
To question whether I’m walking away from disrespect—or just from discomfort.
To ask myself:
Is this a true boundary… or just fear in disguise?
The Truth About Letting Go
The truth is, sometimes the people I let go of easily weren’t easy to lose at all. I just tucked the grief away.
Grief is slow like that.
It waits until you’re safe enough to feel it.
So now I sit with it. I feel it. I honor it.
Because healing isn’t just about walking away—it’s also about acknowledging the ache of what we left behind.
Kindness + Boundaries = Wholeness
I used to think I had to choose:
Be kind and get hurt, or be strong and stay alone.
Now I’m learning I can be both.
- I can be kind while holding boundaries.
- I can stay connected without losing myself.
- I can lead with compassion while protecting my peace.
Because the goal isn’t to shut the world out. It’s to let the right parts of it in.
Slowly. Deliberately. Gently.
And in doing so, I don’t lose my softness. I reclaim it—on my own terms.
