They didn’t text back? Cue the spiral
“I know I’ll survive if they don’t text back… but why does it feel like I won’t? I feel so anxious about being left.”
That’s a question I hear often—from clients, followers, and frankly, from my own heart sometimes.
If you’re anxiously attached, especially with an abandonment wound, the silence of someone you care about can feel existential. Your adult self might be saying, “It’s fine. They’re probably just busy.”
But another part of you—the younger part—starts spiraling:
“Did I say too much?”
“Did I push them away?”
“Am I being too much?”
“Are they coming back?”
This part isn’t irrational.
It’s protective.
It remembers what it felt like to be emotionally dropped or physically left behind.
When we’re little and our needs aren’t reliably met—especially if someone we love disappears without explanation—our nervous system adapts. It starts reading every pause, every silence, every shift in tone as possible rejection.
Because back then, being left could feel like emotional death.
So if you’ve been asking, “Why do I get so anxious over something small?”
Know this: It’s not small to the part of you that once had to survive without certainty, reassurance, or repair.
So how do you build resilience when that fear flares up?
Resilience here doesn’t mean numbing out or pretending you don’t care.
It means staying with yourself through the discomfort.
1. Let the anxious part exist—but don’t let it drive.
Instead of pushing it away or collapsing into it, try saying:
“Hey love, I know you’re scared. I see you. I’m not leaving you. I’ve got this now.”
Speak to yourself the way you wish someone had spoken to you back then.
You are the one who doesn’t leave.
2. Express interest without clinging.
Wanting someone is not a weakness.
Desire can be bold and self-respecting.
You don’t need to overextend just to stay connected.
You can say:
“I’d love to see you—what’s your week look like?”
And trust that if they’re available and aligned, they’ll move toward you.
If not, you’ve still honored your desire without betraying your dignity.
3. Name your needs without over-explaining.
You’re allowed to want consistency, clarity, and affection.
Your needs don’t make you “too much.”
They make you human.
Instead of softening your needs with disclaimers or apologies, try:
“I feel more connected when there’s regular check-in.”
“It helps me feel safe when we make plans in advance.”
You’re not asking for perfection. You’re offering the truth of how you thrive in connection.
4. Detach your worth from their response.
This is hard—but it’s the most powerful move of all.
Their silence is not proof that you’re unlovable.
Their delay is not evidence that you’re too much.
Their disinterest is not a mirror of your value.
Sometimes people don’t respond because they’re inconsistent, distracted, or not ready.
Sometimes they disappear because they lack the tools to do anything else.
That’s about them.
Not you.
So what does resilience really look like here?
It’s holding your own hand when your nervous system is screaming.
It’s letting desire be a gift you offer, not a condition you beg for.
It’s trusting that love you don’t have to chase will feel safer—because it is.
You don’t have to convince someone to choose you.
You get to choose yourself in every pause, every silence, every unmet text.
Here’s a mantra to hold onto:
“I stay soft. I stay grounded. I stay mine.”
If this hit home, send it to the part of you that needs reassurance today—or to a friend who feels this, too.