There's a reason so many men struggle in relationships
And there's a way to fix it.
I don’t know if it’s the cold weather and shorter days, but many of the men in my life—including myself—are going through something right now. We want more connection and intimacy, but we don’t know how to get it. Or more accurately, how to allow it to happen.
I’ll give you an example. Last Sunday, my partner and I had planned to go to a holiday parade with friends. I woke up feeling worn out and grumpy. All I wanted was to sit around and watch football, occasionally getting up to work on house projects I’d been putting off. I wanted to move at my own pace and not have to talk to anyone. But I also wanted my partner around. I didn’t want to feel completely alone.
I told her she should go to the parade without me, and she did. But afterwards I sent mixed signals. I wanted her to walk to the grocery store with me, but I didn’t really want to talk much, let alone connect emotionally. I wanted to make what I wanted for dinner at the time I wanted to, but I also wanted her to eat with me. I wasn’t open to her ideas about anything, because I didn’t really want to talk. She got—justifiably—annoyed.
Maybe it’s because it’s “cuffing season,” that time of the year when single people look for more exclusive, committed dating. I’m feeling extra lonely and confused about connection right now, and many of my therapy clients and friends are too.
The more I learn about the psychological concept called “attachment theory,” the more I think men are taught from an early age to be what’s called “avoidant.” I really think that’s what’s going on here—beyond just the nasty weather.
What we call “masculinity” is pretty much the definition of having an avoidant attachment style.
Having trouble showing or feeling emotions. Check. Feeling discomfort with physical closeness and touch. Check (unless it’s sex, of course). Refusing help or emotional support from others. Check. Making personal independence and freedom more important than partnership. Check. Seeming calm and cool in typically high-emotion situations. Check.
Attachment theory has become “pop psychology,” misrepresented and oversimplified in millions of Instagram memes and TikTok videos. And not all men are avoidant, of course (#NotAllMen!). But a lot of the relationship and friendship problems my friends and therapy clients (and myself) are suffering through seem to come from being avoidant. And a lot of the problems men are dealing with at the societal level seem to as well—from the loneliness epidemic to record levels of suicides.
There’s a silver lining that I’ll get to in a moment. But first, let me clarify what I mean by “avoidant.” What makes the most sense to me is when attachment is explained by talking about the nervous system. The nervous system is made up of the brain, spine, and nerves that run throughout our bodies, controlling breathing, heart rate, digestion, and more. It also controls whether we feel threatened by or safe and connected with others. It’s the most consequential part of our body that no one ever talks about.
When we feel disconnected, our nervous system floods our body with stress hormones. We feel frustrated or worried. We often lose access to our brain’s ability to focus. If we feel extra unsafe, our body shuts down—leaving only the most basic functions like breathing and digestion, and leaving us feeling hopeless and depressed.
All of this happens without us knowing. It’s unconscious. When we meet someone new, our nervous system reacts instantly, scanning for safety. If something feels off, our body finds a way to protect itself—by tensing up, getting aggressive, numbing out, getting distracted, being overly nice, or a number of other ways. You may have heard of “fight, flight, or freeze.” That’s what’s happening. If there’s safety, our nervous system relaxes. We’re present, curious, calm, compassionate, open, grounded, playful. We can be vulnerable and authentic, without holding back.
Those of us with an avoidant attachment style struggle to stay in that relaxed and open place, even when we’re around someone we love and know really well. “Being vulnerable, intimate, or seen are accompanied by a lot of energy in our bodies,” says the trauma coach Sarah Baldwin.
“If our [nervous] systems aren’t used to those things, the good things will actually feel overwhelming for us at first. So much so that our systems are like, I need to get this away right now, because it’s just too much. And then the cognitive part of us is like, ‘What the hell, I want that thing, why am I doing this?’”
That’s what was happening inside of me on Sunday.
I’d had a tough workweek and a busy Saturday filled with socializing. I was wiped. My nervous system was like, “Nope, no more connection.” Yet, my mind was like, “But wait, I don’t want to be alone!” It must’ve been really confusing to my partner. If I was her, I’d be annoyed too.
To be honest, I’m often in that place. It’s not just when I’m completely worn out. When I wake up in the morning, I like to cuddle, but the idea of talking about deep, emotional stuff while staring into each other’s eyes sounds like hell to me. When I finish work, I need a little time to warm up to talking about the emotional roller coasters we each went through that day. I want the connection. But something inside of me (my nervous system) feels like a magnet pushing away from my partner. It feels like too much, even though I actually want it.
Attachment theory says that avoidant attachment is shaped early in life through interactions with our parents and other caregivers. When we needed emotional support (or were simply expressing strong emotions, like kids do), our parents likely downplayed or ignored our problems. This may have been not responding when we cried, outright discouraging crying, not outwardly showing us their emotional responses, or avoiding physical touch. They may have loved us deeply and only done this stuff sometimes, but often it felt (to our little kid nervous system) that they weren’t emotionally available.
So, we had to figure out how to care for our own emotions. Which, of course, we couldn’t really do. We buried and locked away our feelings, so far down that even we lost touch with them. This means our nervous system can only handle so much emotional charge. We get easily overwhelmed and then numb out, walk away, get distracted, intellectualize, pretend to be nice, or get aggressive, the things that cause so much harm and pain to those who love us.
It’s hard to avoid being avoidant as a man in this society.
The other day I walked by a house in rural Virginia covered (literally covered!) in Trump flags and signs that said things like, “Never mind the dog, beware of the owner,” with a picture of a gun. I imagined Fox News was being projected on a wall inside, blasting hateful propaganda about “illegals” and “wokeism.” I can almost guarantee a man lives there. Sure, he’s surviving. But does he feel safe? Is he connected? Does he feel like he can fully be himself and still be loved?
Even if we’re not as scared and lonely as that guy, men are taught from a young age to be more avoidant than “anxious,” the other attachment style. “People socialized into femininity [or women] are encouraged to be emotionally responsive,” writes English professor Nora Samaran. “In fact, we get flak when we are not quietly nurturing of others.” It’s the opposite for men. As Samaran writes, “Those socialized into masculinity are more likely to have had this healthy response shamed out of them, sometimes so early and so profoundly they may not remember they have ever had it.”
When we were young, we got flak when we cared about others. We got flak when we showed any emotion at all—unless maybe it was passion about a sport. We were supposed to be tough, unflinching, rational, and logical, not sensitive and needy. We learn this from our parents and other adults, other boys, and movies and the media. Therapist Terry Real says, “Men are not raised to be intimate, they’re raised to be competitive performers.”
The sad thing is, as Samaran writes, “Connection is not gendered, it is human.” Counter to the American individualistic propaganda about pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps, all of us need connection. Not only to survive, but also to have loving friendships and relationships. To feel like we’re part of something bigger than ourselves. To feel joy, purpose, and satisfaction.
For us men, avoidance was wired into many of our nervous systems early on. You may have been spared, and your nervous system can handle high levels of intimacy and connection. But I can’t, and many of the men in my life can’t either. It’s how our bodies work. Not because of anything inherent or natural. Because we were socialized to be.
The silver lining is there are proven ways to overcome this. (Beyond ending capitalist patriarchy, of course.)
The literature on undoing avoidant attachment and becoming more “secure” is pretty well-developed.
One important step is learning how to regulate our nervous system. Meditation. Yoga. Solo walks without a phone or other distractions. We have to stop doing and spend time every day just being, letting our nervous system relax and recharge. This also allows us to notice what’s going on inside, how we truly feel.
Another is to work on boundaries in our relationships, like setting up structures and routines to emotionally connect. If you’re dating, that means setting up boundaries too.
What’s worked best for me (on top of daily meditation), has been group therapy. Each week, I get to practice opening up a little more, allowing more emotion into my nervous system, and communicating what I’m feeling to others. I can’t recommend it enough.
Now, a question for the comments below (or email me: jeremy@jeremymohler.blog): What does it feel like inside of you when your partner gets emotional?
(P.S. If you become a paid subscriber for $5/month, you’ll be able to join our community call about this topic in early 2024. I’d love to have you there!)