When Pulling Away Is a Survival Strategy: Attachment Wounds, Safety, and the Need for Space
You love them. Maybe it’s a partner, a friend, a parent. But suddenly, you feel the urge to retreat—into silence, into solitude, into yourself. You don’t want to fight. You don’t want to explain. You just need space.
If this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. For many people, especially those who have lived through inconsistent, overwhelming, or emotionally unsafe relationships, pulling away isn’t a sign of disconnection—it’s a survival strategy.
What looks like “shutting down” on the outside is often the nervous system’s way of saying, “This doesn’t feel safe.” And what others might label avoidance or coldness might actually be an attempt to protect your sense of self from further harm.
In this post, we’ll explore what it really means when someone pulls away in a relationship—through the lens of attachment theory, trauma response, and emotional safety. We’ll look at the science, the patterns, and, most importantly, the hope for healing.
What Research Tells Us About Emotional Withdrawal
Emotional withdrawal—pulling away, shutting down, going quiet—is not just a communication breakdown. It’s a pattern deeply rooted in attachment theory and the body’s innate drive for safety.
According to British psychoanalyst John Bowlby, the way we relate to others in adulthood is shaped by our earliest experiences with caregivers. Insecure attachment, especially the avoidant style, often develops when caregivers are dismissive, unpredictable, or emotionally unavailable. In these environments, closeness can feel unsafe or even punishing, so the child learns to self-regulate by detaching.
This framework was further developed by Mary Ainsworth in her “Strange Situation” studies, where children with avoidant attachment showed little visible distress when separated from caregivers—but internally, their stress levels spiked. This disconnect between what’s shown and what’s felt often continues into adulthood: someone who pulls away may seem calm or indifferent, but beneath the surface, their nervous system is on high alert.
This is where Polyvagal Theory comes in—a neurobiological framework introduced by Dr. Stephen Porges. It explains how the body responds to perceived threats not only with “fight or flight,” but also with a shutdown mode called the dorsal vagal response. When we go into this state, we might feel numb, distant, or emotionally frozen. Pulling away in relationships is often a reflection of this very response: the body signaling that it's safer to disengage than to risk confrontation, rejection, or overwhelm.
It’s important to note that this isn’t about drama or manipulation. In fact, for many women—especially those socialized to prioritize connection and caregiving—emotional withdrawal is often a last resort. As psychologist Judith Jordan, founder of Relational-Cultural Theory, noted, “disconnection is often experienced not as power, but as pain.”
Childhood Lessons About Love and Safety
Many adults who find themselves pulling away in relationships didn’t choose this pattern consciously—it was shaped by early experiences that taught them closeness wasn’t safe.
Children are incredibly adaptive. When warmth and responsiveness are inconsistent—when a parent is affectionate one moment and dismissive or critical the next—the child learns to tread carefully. They may suppress their needs, hide their emotions, or retreat inward as a way to avoid being hurt, shamed, or ignored.
These patterns are not just psychological—they’re physiological. According to trauma researcher Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, “the body keeps the score.” In his landmark work on trauma and the nervous system, van der Kolk explains how chronic relational stress and early emotional neglect shape brain development, stress responses, and relational behavior well into adulthood.
This is especially relevant for those with developmental trauma or high ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences) scores. The original ACEs study by Felitti et al. (1998) found a direct link between early trauma—such as emotional abuse, neglect, or witnessing domestic violence—and later difficulties with emotional regulation, physical health, and relational trust.
Children who grow up walking on eggshells often become adults who monitor every interaction, constantly scanning for danger or disconnection. Pulling away becomes a protective reflex: a learned way to create space when connection feels unpredictable, overwhelming, or unsafe.
Even in loving adult relationships, the body may not always recognize the difference between then and now. Without healing, old wounds continue to drive new patterns.
The Role of Boundaries and Emotional Space
Pulling away isn’t always about fear—it can also be about boundaries. For individuals who never had the chance to develop healthy emotional autonomy, creating distance is sometimes the only way to feel in control.
When your early environment didn’t allow you to say no, express discomfort, or have needs without backlash, distance can feel like the only safe boundary. In that sense, space becomes a form of self-protection. It's not about shutting others out—it’s about finally reclaiming a sense of inner stability.
Therapist and relationship expert Terry Real writes about how women in particular are often conditioned to merge in relationships—to accommodate, to smooth over, to take care. In his work on relational empowerment, he notes that when this becomes too much, emotional withdrawal is a common way women reclaim space without confrontation.
Of course, the problem arises when pulling away becomes the only tool in the toolbox—used reflexively rather than intentionally. That’s when emotional space can start to erode connection instead of preserving it.
A trauma-informed perspective doesn't rush people back into closeness. Instead, it helps them learn what kind of space is healing versus what kind of space is protective but isolating. Therapy can support individuals in experimenting with new relational boundaries: where you can stay connected and safe, where you can speak up and feel respected.
The goal isn’t to force closeness. It’s to create a foundation where closeness no longer feels like a threat.
What Healing Looks Like
Healing from the need to constantly pull away doesn’t mean forcing yourself to stay when you feel unsafe. It means learning how to listen to what your nervous system is telling you—and giving yourself new options.
For many, the first step is experiencing a relationship where emotional safety is prioritized. This is where therapy can be a powerful space for attachment repair. In trauma-informed therapy, the therapeutic relationship itself becomes a container for trying something new: staying present, exploring discomfort, speaking needs aloud—and not being punished for it.
Several modalities can support this kind of relational healing:
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EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) can help reduce the emotional intensity of past relational trauma that still shapes your reactions in the present.
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Polyvagal-informed therapy supports nervous system regulation and helps you recognize when you're moving into a shutdown state—and how to come back online gently.
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Parts work (like Internal Family Systems) can help clients explore the “part” of them that pulls away, while also honoring the part that longs for connection.
Most importantly, healing teaches that you can choose closeness without abandoning yourself. You can recognize when space is a healthy boundary—and when it’s a defense that’s no longer serving you.
This doesn’t happen overnight. But over time, many people find that the urge to retreat softens—not because they’re trying harder, but because their relationships finally feel safer.
Gentle Questions to Reflect On
Healing starts with awareness—not judgment. If pulling away has been your way of surviving, it makes sense. These moments of reflection are meant to invite curiosity and compassion, not critique.
Consider journaling or sitting with one or more of these questions:
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🌀 When did I first learn that closeness could feel dangerous?
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🧍♀️ What does my body do when I sense emotional overwhelm?
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🔁 Do I notice patterns in when or with whom I tend to shut down?
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🫂 What kind of connection actually feels safe and nourishing for me?
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🌱 What would it be like to stay present—even just a little bit longer—when I want to retreat?
If you start to feel overwhelmed while reflecting, it’s okay to pause. These aren’t questions meant to fix you—they’re meant to help you see yourself more clearly and gently.
Grounding practice suggestion:
Try placing a hand on your chest or your side ribs. Breathe deeply and say inwardly, “I’m allowed to need space. And I’m allowed to be held.” Feel into whichever part of that feels true—or complicated.
This practice of tuning in is itself a small, powerful act of healing.
Reframing the Narrative: You’re Not Broken—You’re Protecting Yourself
If you've spent years pulling away from closeness, emotionally disconnecting when things feel too intense, you're not broken. You're responding in the only way your nervous system knew how—by protecting you.
What might change if, instead of blaming yourself for withdrawing, you began to honor the wisdom behind it?
Pulling away is a survival strategy. But survival isn’t the same as living. Healing means learning when space is necessary—and when connection is possible. It means knowing you can step back without shutting down, and step forward without losing yourself.
This work is tender. It takes time. But you don’t have to do it alone.
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Each journey is different, and there’s no one right way to begin. But if you're ready to take a step toward feeling safe and connected—at your own pace—therapy can help.
