3 Childhood Trauma Traps That Make You Attach Too Fast

A major reason people who grew up neglected as children have difficulty building steady, long-term partnerships is insecure attachment. Often they rush into closeness, get emotionally entangled with someone they’ve just met, and then panic when they realize that sharing a bed doesn’t automatically mean there will be commitment or predictable partnership. If you’re unclear about what you want—not only in your head but in how you speak and behave—you’re unlikely to end up in a relationship that satisfies you. The painful irony is that you may drive away perfectly decent people who care about you because you act oddly while trying to mask how lost and frightened you actually feel.
Today’s letter comes from a young woman I’ll call Clara. She writes, “Hi, crappy childhood fairy. I’m 22 and since I was 11, I’ve been struggling with issues around love and self-worth. Got my fairy pencil. I’m going to circle things to come back to on a second reading, but let’s see what’s going on with Clara. I really hope you can read this and help me with your experience. My parents separated when I was six, and my mom was emotionally unavailable. My father was mostly absent but around at times when I was little. I remember trying to spend evenings with them since they worked all day, but he was exhausted and threatened to hit me if I didn’t go to bed—and on a few occasions he did. Later he formed another family and has been committed to them. A few years after the split my mother started seeing someone and they traveled internationally a lot. When I was ten I felt extremely lonely even though many relatives lived in the house. Oh golly. Yeah, I felt abandoned. I was often treated like a punching bag by my grandfather, who acted as a father figure. He was affectionate when I was very small, but later he began to belittle me and call me dumb and annoying. My aunt could be quite cruel too and accused me of preventing my mom from being happy. When I cried when my mom left, I was accused of manipulation. I roughhoused with my brother, but because he was eight years older, his hits hurt more than they were fun. I would cry and always be blamed; I was yelled at for having a high-pitched voice. I was the inconvenience. Even so, I admired my brother. I can kind of see where trouble might be coming.”
Clara continues, “Around age 11 I met my first partner at school—he was seven years older—and the relationship was textbook toxic: manipulation and abuse that lasted three years.” That is heartbreaking. You were a child. Terrible things happened, and that experience led Clara into drugs and alcohol. She says, “I didn’t have friends then—only that guy and a lot of lies. When I ended it and told my mom, she said I’d broken her trust and would have to earn it back. So my mom blamed me for being taken advantage of while she wasn’t emotionally there. That hurt because I was still a child and alone.” Over time their relationship has somewhat improved.
After that Clara had a series of short, intense entanglements—lots of limerence and situationships, none lasting more than a couple of months and none healthy—until recently. Six months ago she began talking to a man who shared similar tastes and a melancholic sensibility that resonated with her. Two months into their connection they started seeing each other more seriously. He told her his previous long-term relationship ended badly two years earlier. They spent time together, he stayed over, and whenever they met they slept together. They went to movies, theater, parks, picnics and dinner. When Clara had to work on college papers he’d sleep on her bed while she studied. At one point he canceled plans at the last minute; Clara said she understood, but they didn’t speak for a week until she reached out. During that week she was full of worry—crying, unsure if he’d lost interest.
Two weeks ago they watched a movie together. The next morning he asked if she was more into monogamy or polygamy; she answered monogamy and he kissed her, saying he felt the same. That felt promising to her because she wanted a relationship. A few hours later she asked whether he planned to meet other people and he said not for now, which left her feeling uneasy, as if he were with her but open to someone else showing up. She asked if he would tell her if he met someone else and he said yes—then asked her the same and she said she would tell him. Later, before he left, Clara, anxious, asked for a conversation to ease her mind. She bluntly framed things: “We’re kind of friends with benefits, right?” He replied, “Sort of. You could say that.” She then asked, “You don’t want any relationship, do you?” Those were leading, high-pressure questions that may have shaped his answers.
He eventually said he could imagine being in a relationship with her someday and that he felt safe with her because she was kind, but he also admitted he was afraid of commitment. He said he couldn’t force himself to feel more right now, couldn’t guarantee a future, and was uncomfortable claiming he was the person who could meet all her emotional needs. Clara says she told him she felt he was playing with her; she insists she wasn’t asking for promises but wanted to know whether he had the willingness to stay and try as a couple—something he couldn’t promise.
What’s coming through in this exchange is that Clara was feeling deeply and then tried to hide that vulnerability by putting on a tougher front—asking leading questions and testing him. That pattern can push someone away. They’d been seeing each other only two months; it’s not unreasonable that he wasn’t ready to commit. They had agreed on a sexual relationship, and for many people, sex accelerates bonding. For someone with attachment wounds, that bond can make the lack of clear commitment feel excruciating. That’s why a common piece of guidance is to move slow: don’t rush into sex, spend time getting to know the person’s behavior and reliability first, and allow attachment to grow more gradually.
Back to the story: they didn’t speak for a week and then he messaged asking to meet so he could return some shirts. Clara expected him to end things, but he said he wanted to keep seeing her. She, however, told him that continuing wasn’t a good idea—saying she had been selfish last time. That phrasing seems to come from internalized judgments stemming from her childhood and might be masking fear of rejection. It reads as if she was trying to control the emotional narrative by positioning herself as at fault rather than admitting she didn’t want to lose him. In truth it sounds like he might have been looking for an excuse to see her again, not to leave.
Clara explains that whenever she brings up her worries, he shuts down, and she ends up feeling they can’t continue. At times she used testing language—suggesting they were just friends with benefits—as a way to provoke a declaration from him. He asked what she felt was missing; she told him nothing was missing, which left him puzzled about why she believed he would leave. She felt the fear of abandonment internally but couldn’t vocalize it. In response he said he didn’t want to force either of them into anything and walked away. The dynamic here looks like Clara attempting to force him into affirming a future by cornering him emotionally. He, understandably, could not promise feelings that hadn’t appeared yet. After two months of dating it’s normal for someone to be unsure, and it isn’t reasonable to expect a full, parent-like emotional understanding from a new partner so quickly.
It’s important to differentiate between dating and being in a committed relationship. Clara’s head and heart were already treating the situation like a relationship, but the reality between them was still dating. Given her childhood history, it’s understandable she’d conflate the two. People who bond strongly through sex—what some call “bonders”—may feel relationship-level attachment quickly, which is why it’s often wise to delay sexual intimacy early on until you’re more certain about the other person’s intentions.
Clara reports that he never explicitly said he wanted to be with her in a definitive, “let’s be together” way without caveats. She takes that to mean he doesn’t feel the same intensity. Yet he did want to continue seeing her and showed care and affection; he simply couldn’t promise more. That’s different from someone who says flatly, “I’m not interested.” In Clara’s case there may be unfinished business—she may have ended things prematurely. She could benefit from therapy, a program, or a support group to process emotions and learn to get a clearer reality check so she doesn’t come in hot when fear of abandonment kicks in. When an abandonment wound is active, even loving behavior from a partner can trigger pain.
If the bond and the partner are genuinely valuable, there’s a potential path forward: Clara could apologize for having jumped the gun, explain that she genuinely liked him and that fear made her push him away, and tell him she’s starting work on her emotions so she doesn’t respond from panic. This pattern—being intensely drawn to someone and then pushing them away when they’re close—is often called disorganized attachment. It’s a complex attachment style that requires sustained healing to learn how to neither rush in nor arbitrarily push someone away.
Clara remembers that his affection always felt sincere, which makes it even harder to accept that she left. She wonders whether, without her insecurities and past relationship trauma, she might have been content to continue seeing him even if he didn’t immediately label it as “a relationship.” The counselor’s perspective: it’s reasonable and normal that he didn’t make a firm commitment after only two months. Dating is a process of discovery; sometimes people do know quickly, but more often it takes time. A more measured approach—delaying sexual intimacy and waiting to see whether words of commitment emerge—can prevent premature bonding that leads to greater heartbreak.
Clara reflects that this is the first time she’s walked away from a situationship without being emotionally drained. Usually she leaves only when everything is exhausted, which she finds troubling. Both cared for each other and wanted to continue but with different expectations, and perhaps ending things now will prevent deeper resentment later. She’s been working on herself after each bad experience, trying to learn from mistakes and to be content alone, but losing someone because of her insecurities hurts deeply. She doesn’t feel she was asking for something unreasonable—she wanted acknowledgment that what they had was a relationship and hoped he might have optimism about building on it. Still, she worries she’s “too much” and fears being alone for that reason. This time she tried to protect herself by stepping back, yet she remains unsure if that was the right move.
The practical takeaway is this: if this person is worth keeping, an apology and a reset could be valuable—especially if he’s single and open to talking. If he’s willing, they could agree to take things slower and see where it leads. A concrete guideline to consider is dating someone for three to six months without having sex and without pressuring them, to allow a clearer sense of commitment to emerge in time. For someone with intense attachment wounds, sex can accelerate bonding in ways that make pacing the relationship very difficult.
When discussing feelings, it helps to tell the truth about what’s really going on rather than using harsh tests or accusations as a means of getting a response. People with complex post-traumatic stress or disorganized attachment can indeed overwhelm partners in the early stages because past pain leaks into present interactions. That doesn’t mean a person will always be “too much,” but it does mean steady healing work is needed so future relationships aren’t derailed by unprocessed fear.
If Clara decides to reach out, she might say she was frightened and jumped ahead, that she liked him more than she expected, and that she’s committed to doing the work to manage her reactions. Then they could agree to move forward more slowly—perhaps putting physical intimacy on hold while they learn how to communicate and observe each other’s reliability. If he’s not willing to build gradually, there may be nothing to salvage, and that’s okay too.
This kind of attachment pattern takes time and effort to change, but it’s not hopeless. With therapy, structured programs, or consistent self-work, people can learn to tolerate uncertainty and to let relationships develop at a healthier pace. If you want to explore structured help, there are programs and courses designed for dating with attachment wounds; “I’ve got a link for it right here.”