Dear Parent,

 

 

Your four-year-old trips and falls. They're not badly hurt, but they're crying—big, heaving sobs. They run to you with outstretched arms.

 

And you feel... nothing. Or worse, you feel irritated. Trapped. Like their tears are an accusation. Like their need is reaching into your chest and squeezing.

 

You hear yourself say: "You're okay. It's not that bad. Let's get up and keep playing."

 

Later, you feel guilty. You know you should have offered more comfort. But in the moment, their emotional need felt like too much. Like something you needed to shut down. Fast.

 

If this resonates, you might be parenting from a dismissive-avoidant attachment style.

 

 

The core wound: You learned that emotional needs were inconvenient, shameful, or dangerous. Your caregivers may have been physically present but emotionally distant. When you cried, you were told to toughen up. When you needed comfort, you were met with dismissal or discomfort. So, you learned to handle things yourself.

 

The core fear: Vulnerability will lead to rejection or engulfment. Needing people makes you weak. Emotions are problems to be managed or avoided.

 

The core strategy: Maintain distance. Stay in control. Keep things logical and unemotional. Handle it yourself.

 

 

When your child is upset—crying, scared, needy—your first instinct isn't to move toward them. It's to make it stop. To minimize it. To logic them out of it. Their emotions feel overwhelming, not because of the emotion itself, but because vulnerability feels dangerous.

 

What's happening below the surface:
You learned that emotions were shameful, uncomfortable, unacceptable, or led to rejection. So, when your child has big feelings, it triggers your own discomfort with vulnerability. Their tears activate the same message you internalized: This is too much. Shut it down.

 

Hugs, cuddles, physical closeness—they can feel uncomfortable. Not always. But especially when you're stressed, when they're needy, or when it goes on too long. Your body wants space. Your child wants more. And you feel trapped.

 

What's happening below the surface:
Physical closeness often came with strings attached in your childhood, or it wasn't available at all. You learned that independence was safer than dependency. So now, when your child seeks physical comfort, it can feel suffocating rather than connecting.

 

You're great at problem-solving. You can fix the scraped knee, build the toy, explain how things work. But when your child just needs you to be with them in their feelings, you struggle. You want to fix, teach, or explain rather than simply witness.

 

What's happening below the surface:
Logic feels safe. Emotions feel chaotic and uncontrollable. You learned that thinking your way through things was more reliable than feeling your way through them.

 

When your child says "I need you"—for the tenth time that day—you don't feel needed in a good way. You feel trapped. Resentful. Like their dependency is holding you hostage. You want them to be more independent, more capable, more... separate.

 

What's happening below the surface:
You learned that needing people was unsafe or shameful. You learned to pride yourself on self-sufficiency. So, when your child needs you, it conflicts with the message you internalized: that dependence is weakness.

 

When there's tension between you and your child, you don't lean into repair—you create distance. You might become cold, shut down, busy yourself with tasks, or minimize what happened. Emotional conversations feel dangerous, so you avoid them.

 

What's happening below the surface:
Conflict in your childhood may have led to emotional withdrawal or punishment. You learned that ruptures in relationships were unsafe. So now, you avoid conflict to avoid the discomfort, but this means repairs don't happen.

 

You can provide for your child—food, activities, education, material things. But when they want your emotional presence, your vulnerability, your feelings? That's harder. You give what feels safe to give but hold back the parts that feel too exposing.

 

What's happening below the surface:
Providing for basic needs keeps you in control and maintains distance. Providing emotionally requires vulnerability and trust. You learned that being needed felt safer than needing.

 

Here's the painful irony of avoidant attachment: the strategies you use to protect yourself from vulnerability are what create the very disconnection you fear.

 

You minimize their emotions → they learn emotions aren't safe → they stop coming to you → you feel distant from them → you withdraw more.

 

You push for independence → they learn needing you is too much → they stop asking → you feel relieved but also... lonely.

You avoid conflict → ruptures don't get repaired → the relationship feels fragile → you keep more distance to protect it.

 

The safety you create through distance doesn't feel safe. It feels isolated.

 

 

Here's what avoidant attachment makes hard to believe:

 

 

They don't need you to fix their feelings. They need you to be okay with their feelings existing.

 

They don't need you to be perfectly comfortable with closeness. They need you to try, even when it's uncomfortable.

 

They don't need you to never pull away. They need you to come back and repair when you do.

 

The strong, independent child you think you're raising by encouraging self-sufficiency? They might be learning that their emotional needs are too much. That they're safer alone and safer with working through feelings alone.

 

 

If you're seeing yourself in this, here are some ways to start:

 

1. Notice yourself pulling away to create distance
When your child is upset and you feel the urge to minimize, fix, or leave, pause. Notice it. Name it internally: "I'm feeling uncomfortable with this emotion." You don't have to act on the urge.

 

2. Practice sitting with discomfort
Start small. When your child is mildly upset, try staying present for 30 seconds longer than feels comfortable. Don't fix, don't minimize, just breathe and be there. Build your tolerance gradually.

 

3. Use scripts when you don't know what to say
If emotional attunement doesn't come naturally, use simple phrases: "That sounds hard." "I'm here." "Tell me more." You don't have to be emotionally fluent— just be present.

 

4. Initiate physical affection (even when it feels awkward)
Push yourself slightly outside your comfort zone. Hug for three seconds longer. Sit close on the couch. Hold their hand. It might feel awkward at first. Do it anyway.

 

5. Practice repair
When you've been distant or dismissive, come back. Even if it feels uncomfortable. "I wasn't very present earlier when you were upset. I'm sorry. Can we try again?" This is how you build trust.

 

6. Get support
Working with a therapist can help you understand where your discomfort with emotion comes from and learn to tolerate vulnerability without shutting down. This is deep work, and you don't have to do it alone.

 

Avoidant attachment developed because you learned to survive without reliable emotional connection. You learned to be strong, independent, self-sufficient. That's not weakness—that's resilience.

The work now is learning that you don't have to do it all alone anymore. That vulnerability doesn't always lead to rejection. That needing people—and being needed—can be safe.

 

Your child's emotional needs aren't too much. They're just needs. And you learning to be present for them, even imperfectly, even uncomfortably, is one of the most powerful things you can do.

 

Every time you stay when you want to leave, every time you sit with their tears instead of shutting them down, every time you come back to repair—you're rewriting the blueprint. You're showing them something different than what you learned.

 

You're teaching them that emotions are okay. That needing people is okay. That they don't have to handle everything alone.

And in doing that, you're also teaching yourself.

 

Today's Takeaway: Your child's emotional needs aren't too much—they're an invitation to learn that vulnerability can be safe, even when it's uncomfortable.

 

Next Time: Fearful-Avoidant Attachment (When emotions feel dangerous)

 

P.S. If you recognized yourself in this and it brought up grief or shame, please be gentle with yourself. You learned to protect yourself in the only way that felt safe. That's not your fault. And the fact that you're reading this, learning about it, trying to do something different? That's already the beginning of change.

 

P.P.S Follow me on Instagram for more content: @theparentingspecialist

 

 

Warmly,

Alison Potter

The Parenting Specialist 

 

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