Putting myself out there and being more vulnerable felt like I was emotionally walking into a burning building, but I trusted the process and didn’t want to fall back into old avoidant habits just to feel comfortable. No progress is made without a little discomfort.

It was terrifying, and not every dating experience went well. I even got ghosted for the first time – karma at its finest. Not every man I met deserved the extra effort I was putting in to correct my bad habits, but I was opening myself up for the first time and communicating, hoping that if the right person did come around, I wouldn’t fuck it up before it even started.

I’m now, at 29, in my first relationship. On our first date, two years into my attachment journey, I confronted my fears and admitted I was an avoidant but was doing the work to change. He thanked me for being honest and reassured me he was a great communicator, so we’d work stuff out as we went along. This openness set the tone for our relationship.

Truthfully, a week after we matched on Hinge and before said date, my urge to ghost reared its ugly head (what can I say? I’m not perfect). He sent me a selfie, and despite taking hundreds of my own for my job as a beauty writer, I cringed at men taking them. I didn’t reply to his message for half a day, and before I had time for self-reflection, he called me out: “Why are you ghosting me?” No one had ever been that blunt with me. It made me realise I couldn’t give him a reasonable answer. I wasn’t doing it because of something meaningful – like he’d disrespected me or believed climate change was a hoax – it was just my default avoidant setting.

I still fell at a few hurdles along the way. My avoidant alarm bells rang at the intimacy of letting him use my shower after our first sleepover, so I shooed him out the door instead. Having sex with me? Totally fine. Using my L’Occitane shower oil? Absolutely not. It also took almost a year of on-and-off dating to realise I no longer wanted something casual, which meant I had to open up, make myself vulnerable and explain that I wanted more. Avoidants thrive in non-committal situationships, so the fact I realised I wanted to try monogamy showed huge growth. I put my fears and pride aside, laid my cards on the table and risked my feelings not being reciprocated. It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done but it did pay off. If I hadn’t recognised these patterns and how I was getting in my own way, I would have missed out on the most meaningful relationship I’ve ever had. With someone who, yes, does take stupid selfies, but also makes me feel valued, supported and loved.

“I’m an avoidant who successfully changed her attachment style – here’s how”