The Misunderstood Attachment Style: Dismissive Avoidants

In the world of attachment theory, dismissive avoidant folks often get a bad rep. They’re the ones seen as “emotionally unavailable,” “cold,” “afraid of intimacy,” or “just not trying hard enough.” In couples therapy rooms, in pop-psych social media posts, and even in casual conversation, the dismissive avoidant attachment style can easily be painted as the villain.

But here’s the truth: dismissive avoidant individuals are not heartless or incapable of connection. They’re often anxious too—but their anxiety wears a different mask. It hides behind independence, logic, and control. And underneath that mask? A nervous system that’s learned connection is dangerous, and a heart that longs for closeness but fears the cost.

Dismissive Avoidant Attachment: A Nervous System Survival Strategy

Let’s back up for a second. Dismissive avoidant attachment usually develops in childhood homes where emotional needs were minimized, ignored, punished or the child was engulfed by their caregivers emotions/needs. These children learn early that vulnerability isn’t safe—and that expressing emotion might lead to shame, rejection, or being dismissed. They often internalize that their needs are burdens..

So what do they do? They adapt. They learn to rely on themselves. They build walls. They convince themselves that they don’t need anyone, because needing someone felt like a setup for pain. This isn’t emotional immaturity—it’s emotional survival-- Just like the anxious--preoccupied and fearful avoidant.

“I’m Not Avoidant, I’m Self-Sufficient.”

One of the biggest misunderstandings is that avoidant individuals just don’t want connection. In reality, many of them want it deeply. But they’ve trained themselves not to rely on others because their early experiences taught them that closeness leads to letdowns.

They’re not trying to be distant. They’re trying not to get hurt.

Where an anxious-preoccupied person might chase closeness, a dismissive avoidant will retreat. But both are operating from the same underlying fear: What if I’m not safe in love?

Avoidant ≠ Emotionless

Dismissive avoidants often experience just as much inner turmoil as their more visibly anxious counterparts—they just process it differently. They may:

• Disconnect from their bodies and feelings

• Rationalize or minimize emotional needs

• Feel shame for wanting connection

• Get flooded and shut down when intimacy deepens

• Struggle to name or identify what they’re feeling

They’re overwhelmed. The internal shutdown is often a response to too much emotion, not too little.

Let’s Talk About the Grief

One thing avoidant individuals often carry silently is grief. Grief for the love they didn’t receive. Grief for the ways they’ve pushed people away. Grief for how lonely it feels to be emotionally armoured all the time.

Even some avoidantly attached folks are incredibly self-aware. They’re not commitment-phobic monsters—they’re often deeply reflective people who are trying to feel safe in a world that never showed them how.

So What Do They Need?

What dismissive avoidant people don’t need is more shame, blame, or pressure to “just open up.” What they do need is:

• Safety without demand

  They open up when they don’t feel coerced or judged.

• Respect for their pace

  Slowness isn’t avoidance—it’s nervous system regulation.

• Language for their experience

  Many avoidant folks didn’t grow up with emotional vocabulary. Learning it as an adult is powerful.

• Compassion—for themselves and from others

  Healing begins when they stop pathologizing their defenses and start understanding them.

Final Thoughts

Avoidant attachment isn’t about not caring—it’s about caring so much that it feels safer not to show it. When we view dismissive avoidant behaviours through a trauma-informed lens, we begin to see them not as emotional shortcomings, but as intelligent adaptations.

So to the avoidantly attached: You’re not broken. You’re not cold. You’re not incapable of love. You’re learning how to trust that love doesn’t have to hurt—and that’s courageous as hell.