Sometimes when we need love the most, we push people away.
This isn’t because we don’t want connection—it’s often because a protective part of us learned long ago that reaching out for love leads to rejection. That part believes it’s safer to shut down, to get smaller, or even to lash out, than to risk the vulnerable act of saying, “I need you.”
When we push people away, we often reinforce this old belief system. We expect others to pull away—and when they do, it confirms the fear we had all along: I’m too much. My needs make people leave.
And yet, deep down, there may be a wish we’re not quite able to say out loud.
The wish that the other person won’t walk away.
The wish that they’ll run after us, try to pull us back into connection.
That we won’t have to risk the shame of being the needy one—because they’ll be the one doing the reaching out for us.
This longing for someone to “just know” what we need, to pursue us even when we’re prickly or closed off, is very understandable. Especially when being vulnerable has felt dangerous in the past.
But when we feel needy and the other person does pull away—or doesn’t know how to respond—we can spiral quickly into shame; left with our longing exposed, but unmet.
It can make us feel toxic, humiliated, helpless.
And so we develop strategies to protect ourselves.
We cover up our longings.
We act indifferent.
We test people—will they see through the wall? Will they discern our hidden fantasy, or will they fail us again?
A wall of self-sufficiency might signal to others: I’ve got this. I don’t need you.
But what if, underneath that, we’re quietly hoping: Come closer anyway. Prove me wrong.
Giving mixed messages—saying one thing, but feeling another—can leave others confused.
They may not know whether to lean in or back away.
They may worry that asking is intrusive. Or that offering comfort will be misread.
And while it makes sense that we protect ourselves, over time this pattern can become isolating. The very strategies we use to avoid rejection can keep us from the closeness we crave.
So what helps?
In truth, healing begins when we become more clear—with ourselves and with others.
When we allow ourselves to notice what we really want, and then to communicate it clearly to others.
Taking responsibility for communicating our needs clearly—through our words, tone, and body language—moves us from feeling like a passive victim to an active participant in our relationships.
It doesn’t guarantee we’ll always get the response we want. But it does give others a real chance to meet our needs. And it gives us the chance to say: This is who I am. This is what I need. I’m willing to be seen.
Do you ever notice yourself pulling away just as you’re yearning to be close?
Is there a part of you that’s waiting—hoping—someone will come after you, even when you say “I’m fine”?
What might it feel like to experiment, just a little, with naming your needs more clearly?
Not perfectly. Not all at once.
Just one small moment of truth, shared in real time.
You might be surprised at how connection grows—not from hiding, but from the courage to be known.