I used to think that all those surges of adrenaline and drama in my relationships meant something real was happening—that I was growing, or that the relationship itself was inherently meaningful. In reality, I now recognize that my attachment style was playing a big role in creating that intensity. Insecure attachment can feel like an ongoing rollercoaster of highs and lows, and like any rollercoaster, the adrenaline rush can be addicting. When the ride slowed down, I felt bored and found ways—often unconsciously—to dial the intensity back up again.
Looking back, I notice a clear pattern: I was drawn to partners who were emotionally or physically unavailable, or who consistently broke agreements or kept secrets. My anxiety soared when small conflicts popped up, and I’d take them as evidence of deeper, more ominous problems. Instead of simply talking things through, I’d get lost in marathon conversations about “what’s really wrong,” feeding into the intensity I thought was necessary for a relationship to be real.
Attachment theory helps explain some of this. When we have an insecure attachment style—whether it’s anxious, avoidant, or a more complicated combination—we’re often replaying early relationship experiences from our childhood. We might chase closeness if we felt lonely or abandoned, or pull away if we learned we couldn’t rely on others. The stress hormones that come with this cycle (like adrenaline and cortisol) become familiar, so we confuse the rush with genuine connection.
For a long time, I assumed that having “Big Emotions” and dramatic catharses meant I was learning profound life lessons. But as I grow more secure in my attachment style, I’m discovering another, more peaceful dimension of relationships: they can be a sanctuary instead of a battlefield. Conflicts and disagreements still happen—it’s not about pretending everything is always perfect—but the underlying feeling is one of safety and mutual support, not chaos or unease.
Today, one of my guiding values is that relationships should bring a sense of rest. They should be a place where people can recharge and be themselves, rather than a constant rush of emotional intensity. Learning that has been its own kind of revelation—quieter, but far more sustaining.
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There is always more to find out when it comes to attachment patterns. I keep writing as I learn. Here is PT1 about physical proximity, and PT2 about what helps me shift from anxious towards secure.
