Attachment.

I made it through yesterday. I didn't call. I didn't leave a voicemail. I didn't send an inquiry through the website. I did it, but I went to bed with a heavy heart. Unfortunately that heaviness carried me into my day today. So what did I do? I spiraled. My mind wouldn't quiet. And I called her from an unknown number that she couldn't have blocked, and left not one, but two voicemails.

What exactly is my fucking problem?

Truth is, this feels like withdrawal. The spiraling feels like I'm an addict looking for my next hit. And putting words to that makes me wonder if she's doing this for this exact reason. She knows the time we spent together, the time we spent communicating, the support we offered each other, was an addiction. For both of us. And her way of quitting is cold turkey.

I've been doing some reading, listening to some pods, and doing some self-reflection. And I think I've figured out that I am an individual with anxious attachment. (I am an anxious attachment person? I'm really not sure how to use that term in a sentence.)

Here's why I say this:

• I need constant validation and reassurance.

• I am hypervigilant. I am very sensitive to changes in connection... I notice things before others do.

• I have difficulty tolerating ambiguity. I need things to be certain and clearly defined.

• I ruminate on things, constantly. My brain is never quiet.

• I fear abandonment and rejection like it is no one else's business.

• I catastrophize literally everything in my mind. I plan for that worst case scenario and I more easily believe the bad version, than the good version.

The more I learn about this attachment style, the more I realize this is potentially me. And while I would never try to define or diagnose her, I'm pretty sure she is not the same. While she has a high-level of anxiety, how she is coping is so different from how I am coping, that I have to acknowledge that her attachment style is likely different too.

Right now, she's exhibiting traits of avoidant attachment... at least in how she's handling this breakup. As a therapist, she told me she is really good at compartmentalizing her feelings. She has to in her line of work. You hear about enough horrific trauma, you either jump off a bridge, or learn how to "turn it off". I witnessed her do this exact thing multiple times in our friendship. It was one of the most infuriating things, if I'm being honest. When we had problems, she was seemingly unbothered. She'd later share that she was actually losing her mind, but that she just "turned it off" to keep going.

I keep thinking about this as the time grows between the me now, and the me who saw her last. I should have known this was how she would react. But I guess I just never thought it possible. However, it's not only possible, it's reality.

I don't know a lot, but I do know that I can't keep doing this. And I know the following to be true:

She is decisive and she has made her decision. She will not be changing her mind.

She is loyal and the affair was a mistake. So, she'll spend the rest of her days making it up to Josh, even if she does love me.

She is kind and she believes no-contact is the best thing for both of us. She's willing to hurt me, if needed, to do what she believes the best thing is.

Here's what I don't know...

I don't know if she is okay. She very well may be spiraling just like me. But she could also be fine. I don't know. And I may never know.

I don't know how she's feeling. I know how I'm feeling. But I don't know how she's feeling. And while the opposite reaction = the opposite feeling in my mind, that isn't necessarily the truth. The only thing I know for certain is that the opposite reaction means she's just handling whatever she's feeling, differently.

I don't know that I will recover from this unless I work on me. And working on me means I need to learn why my brain is wired the way it is, why I feel calm the moment after I leave another message for her, and how my trauma and resulting attachment style are affecting my actions AND reactions to this experience.

So, that's the journey I am on right now. At least in this moment. (I reserve the right to change my mind.)

And while on this journey, I will keep these truths on replay...

I miss her.

Missing her does not require action.

Silence feels like rejection because my attachment system craves certainty.

I don't know what she's feeling.

I don't need to solve this.

She knows I love her.

She knows I'm hurt.

She knows how to reach me.

There is nothing she needs to know urgently.

And most importantly:

If she wants to contact me, she can initiate it.