How Learning My Attachment Style Led to Forgiveness

Of Myself and Others

“I always feel like a leaky bucket,” I told my therapist, “No matter how much someone loves me, it never feels like enough. The bucket never fills. I never feel worthy or lovable.”

After a brief pause, my therapist responded, “Have we talked about attachment styles?”

I’d heard about attachment styles in passing on TikTok but didn’t know much about them. All I knew was that they had something to do with how we behave in relationships. I told my therapist so.

She explained that, yes, attachment styles are how we relate to others in relationships and that your attachment style is tied to your self-worth and how well you trust yourself and others. She said our attachment styles stem from how our early childhood caregivers met (or didn’t meet) our needs.

“There are four different styles,” she said. “Would you like to know yours?”

“Of course,” I said.

After answering many questions about my current relationship and early childhood, we finally had an answer.

The result: disorganized attachment

Overview of the Four Attachment Styles

The basic premise of attachment theory is that how we bond with our early caregivers informs how we connect in relationships throughout the rest of our lives. The attachment style we form as a child is a general rule for how we attach in future relationships. Here is an overview of each type:

1. Secure Attachment (50% of the population)

Securely attached individuals typically had caregivers who were responsive to their needs. As children, these individuals felt like the world was a safe place to explore and that they could turn to their caregivers for support when things got scary. In turn, they learned that others are primarily trustworthy and that they can trust themselves as well.

2. Anxious Attachment (20% of the population)

Anxiously attached individuals received inconsistent caregiving as children. This inconsistent caregiving could have been because the parent had an illness or other distraction(s) that led to the parent inconsistently meeting the child’s needs. As a result, the anxiously attached person was never 100% sure if the caregiver would be there for her when she needed support. The bond felt insecure.

This style manifests as clinginess in relationships. The anxiously attached person lacks self-esteem and doesn’t feel okay alone. She relies on the bonds of others for validation and to feel worthy. She needs a lot of reassurance and fears conflict as she sees it as threatening to the relationship.

3. Avoidant Attachment (25% of the population)

The avoidantly attached person had caregivers who didn’t respond to their needs with sensitivity or in a caring way. As children, these people felt alone when they needed something or were upset. As a result, these people learned to rely on themselves to meet their needs. These people learned that they themselves are trustworthy but that others are not.

As adults, these people tend to be fiercely independent. They may think they’re the only ones who can meet their own needs. They feel turned off or threatened when others try to care for them. Attachment can feel confining, like a threat to their independence and freedom. They may prefer short-term flings rather than committed relationships.

4. Disorganized Attachment (5% of the population)

Disorganized attachment is a mix of the anxiously attached and avoidantly attached styles. It differs from the other types in that it is not coherent. In other words, the anxiously attached or avoidantly attached individuals always follow a pattern in relationships (even if that pattern is unhelpful). For example, anxiously attached children will always cling, while avoidantly attached children will always avoid. With disorganized attachment, the child could never figure out which way to act. This happens when the caregiver displays atypical, unpredictable behavior. This can occur when the parents are abusive or manipulative or when the parent has unresolved trauma themselves. Either way, the child never quite knows whether they should move toward the caregiver or away. The child is often afraid and confused. They may be clingy one moment and dismissive the next.

As adults, these people long for attachment but also fear it. They have low self-esteem and don’t trust themselves or others. They view others as unpredictable and relationships as frightening and unsafe. They often feel undeserving of love and may have trouble regulating their emotions. They may use alcohol, drugs, or other unhealthy coping mechanisms to self-soothe. In relationships, their behavior can fluctuate (hence the name “disorganized”). Sometimes, they may feel extreme love and connection, while other times, they may be distant. Overall, they long for closeness, but their fear of others may keep them in cycles of self-sabotage or abuse.

Why Learning My Attachment Style Was Eye-Opening

Learning my attachment style was an a-ha moment for me. I wasn’t expecting a “secure” attachment diagnosis, but receiving “disorganized attachment” made me realize how much work I have to do — and how much I was traumatized as a child.

Sometimes I fool myself into thinking I’m more well-adjusted than I am. I appear functional and put together on the outside. On paper, I’ve done okay for myself. I’m your typical upstanding citizen — I’ve always done well at school and at my jobs. But, functional as I may seem, I often forget I’ve had my fair share of mental health issues. At various points, I’ve struggled with insomnia, depression, anxiety, and alcohol abuse.

So, after the initial shock of receiving my attachment style, it actually made sense and validated my childhood experience. I grew up with two alcoholic parents. Of course I would have a disorganized attachment style. Growing up surrounded by addiction is the definition of unpredictable. When I came home from school every day, I never knew which version of my parents I would get — the kind and loving mom and dad or the absent, drunk, and often angry or upset versions. I’ve often likened them to Jekyll and Hyde. Sometimes I would get my needs met; other times, I wouldn’t.

It makes sense, then, why I would behave the way I do sometimes in relationships. A disorganized attachment style is sometimes described as having an “I hate you — don’t leave me” dynamic. We push people away only to see if they’ll come back. Growing up, I could never take people at their word, so I’d often test them to see if they really cared.

I’ve noticed myself doing this in my marriage. I’m not proud of it, but occasionally I act distant toward my husband to see if he will attempt to get closer. Other times, I’ll show an anxious attachment style. I’ll become clingy. If he doesn’t answer a text message immediately, I’ll take it personally and assume he’s mad at me. Or, if he’s not very chatty when he comes home from work, I’ll assume he no longer loves me (dramatic, I know) rather than that he just needs space to decompress.

After learning about my attachment style, I felt a lot of mixed emotions. For one, I pitied my childhood self, who was never sure how to make her parents meet her needs. Disorganized attachment is like throwing things at the wall to see what sticks. And nothing ever reliably stuck, so I always had to change my strategy. I could never trust that anything I did would work. I could never trust myself, and I could never trust my parents. No wonder I had such little self-worth.

But aside from all the sadness I felt for myself, I also felt like an asshole. I felt guilty for how my attachment style has made me behave in relationships. Because I’m scared of abandonment, I’m constantly skeptical of my partner’s (and everyone’s) motives. This is exhausting for me and unfair to him. Additionally, my neediness and constant skepticism send a message that I don’t trust my partner (even though he’s done nothing to betray my trust).

The urge to beat myself up over this was strong at first. But instead of dwelling on the past, I’m making sure to change how I behave in the future. I’m directing compassion towards myself. It’s not my fault my needs weren’t met as a child. And now, when I’m acting out my attachment style, I see this for what it truly is: my inner child is trying to protect me from abandonment.

But once I realized this, I realized something else: everybody else’s inner children are trying to protect them, too.

How this led me to forgiveness

It was painful to learn my attachment style. I pictured my poor, confused childhood self trying desperately to elicit affection from my drunk parents. Or, many times, I was the one they sought affection from — I had to comfort them. This role reversal was puzzling for me as a child. I have memories of them constantly asking me for love and reassurance. How could I get my needs met when my parents couldn’t meet their own — when I had to be responsible for meeting theirs?

I’ve often harbored anger towards my parents and a few other people in my life for things like this. It’s been hard to let go of this anger because of how profoundly their actions have affected me.

Forgiveness has always felt elusive, especially when the offending party hasn’t offered any apologies.

Rationally, I know what forgiveness is supposed to be — a letting go of anger and resentment towards the person who wronged you. It’s supposed to be good for you — it can reduce anxiety and depression and even lower your blood pressure. Anyone who’s ever felt strong resentment could see how letting go of that burden would help someone feel better.

But I never understood how to do that, at least towards the people who’ve wronged me the most. I don’t believe one can simply turn off her feelings. And besides, I’ve often felt my anger gave me a kind of power — it made me feel righteous — like I had the moral high ground. And it served as a reminder not to let anyone wrong me in those ways again.

At the same time, the anger I’ve felt towards my parents has, at times, felt corrosive. It eats away at me and makes me bitter.

But, learning my attachment style allowed me to soften my feelings toward them and others in my life. It did this in two ways.

First, it made me realize that I am not perfect in my relationships — so maybe I shouldn’t hold others to such a high standard.

And second, just as I pictured myself as a child struggling to get my needs met, I realized my parents, too, went through similar situations. They both also grew up with addiction in the home and experienced intergenerational trauma. I suspect they, too, have disorganized attachment styles. Just like I am, they’re reliving the patterns of their childhoods and attempting to protect themselves and get their own needs met.

“If the children don’t grow up,

our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up”

-Arcade Fire, Wake Up

Ultimately, understanding and forgiving myself has led me to a deeper understanding and empathy for others. This understanding doesn’t absolve my parents of the things they’ve done, nor does it mean I should let go of my boundaries. But it does remind me that their actions against me were never personal. And it’s that realization that soothes and calms my anger towards them.

Forgiveness is a process, and self-awareness is part of that.

Self-awareness has been a big part of my healing journey. In this case, identifying my attachment style helped me realize why I have a “leaky bucket.” Not having my needs met as a child caused me to distrust others — even when they heaped love and praise on me. I’m working on fixing this leaky bucket by healing my attachment style. There are many ways to do that, but I’m focusing on building my self-esteem, expressing my needs, and not taking things personally.

As for the forgiveness piece, I still don’t think it’s something you can force — it takes time to move through emotions and let go of anger. But, understanding ourselves can be a pathway to understanding others, as it was in my case. As we recognize our flaws, we can practice accepting and forgiving ourselves. And as we practice forgiving ourselves, we strengthen our “forgiveness muscle” and can work toward forgiving others. Then, the sting of anger can finally begin to dissipate.