Attachment In Motion

It’s a spectrum, always moving, always shifting, and each connection seems to draw out a different polarity of me.

For most of my life, my home base has been avoidant. That ground feels familiar. I know the pathways of distance and space. I’ve built skills there, how to regulate myself, how to step back, how to notice when I’m pulling away. I know the shadows of it, and I know how to find my way back to connection again.

But then life surprised me. I started connecting with people who were even more avoidant than me, and that flipped the whole polarity. Suddenly, I was the one leaning anxious. Longing, waiting, overthinking, checking my phone, craving closeness. I had to learn an entirely new rhythm - how to voice needs without collapse, how to soothe myself when closeness wasn’t there, how to stay open in the rawness of it all. It was humbling, and a little crunchy, but also wildly alive.

I call upon the theory from PolySecure here, because Jessica Fern names this truth so well: attachment isn’t fixed. We don’t get stamped as one thing forever. It’s relational, fluid, constantly in motion. One connection may bring out our anxiety, another may stir our avoidance, and sometimes we arrive in those sweet spots of secure balance where everything feels steady and safe.

She also speaks to the six pillars of secure attachment: consistent care, emotional attunement, reliability and trustworthiness, responsiveness and availability, repair after rupture, and shared delight. These are what create the sense of safety we crave in connection. And they don’t just live between partners. They’re also practices we can offer ourselves. Self-regulation. Self-trust. Self-delight.

What feels important to remember is that “secure” isn’t a destination. It’s the movement of finding harmony again and again. It’s when the nervous system exhales, when love feels reliable, when leaning in or leaning out doesn’t carry the threat of abandonment or engulfment. Because love itself is alive, secure is something we return to, over and over.

For me, avoidant is still the comfiest chair in the house. I’ve sat there the longest. I know its grooves. I’ve learned how to navigate and communicate from that place. The anxious side though? That’s different. Messy, tender, needy, full of fire and ache. It stretches me into unexpected corners of myself. But in that stretching, I’ve found a deeper tenderness, a softer way of relating, and a fascination with the constant dance of connection and disconnection.

And if I’m honest? Part of me loves it when my partners are a little obsessed with me. It soothes the anxious swirl instantly. But I also know the work isn’t in bypassing the discomfort. It’s in meeting it. Meeting all of it, all the time. Learning. Growing. Stretching. Loving in the motion of open and close.

Another great truth I keep seeing is that learning about polyamorous and non-monogamous ways of loving doesn’t just serve people in those communities. It offers medicine for all types of relating styles. These insights into fluid attachment, repair, self-responsibility, and shared delight are universal. Whether we love one partner or many, the work is the same: finding our way back to safety, curiosity, and connection.

So I’m curious - where do you notice yourself moving on the spectrum?

Which connections bring out your avoidant edges, and which stir your anxiety?

And what helps you return to that momentary, living harmony of secure attachment? With love, Narla.