Living Disorganized: All the Texts I Never Sent
“Living Disorganized” is a first hand glimpse into daily living with disorganized attachment. It’s where I will explore the relational difficulties I struggle with daily—the patterning of early childhood and how it continues to play a role in my everyday relationships. Please know: I am not trying to blame anyone or complain - I’m trying to understand why I continue to have maladaptive behaviors despite trying so hard to act differently.
I draft texts to people all day long.
But almost none of them ever get sent.
Not because I don’t care. Not because I’m flaky.
But because somewhere between “I want to say this” and “I hit send,” something breaks.
I start convincing myself that I’d just be bothering them.
That I don’t have a good enough reason.
That I’ll look stupid.
That I’m being too much, again.
So I delete it.
Like all the other texts I’ve never sent.
I desperately want to connect with people. But I still don’t know how.
I get overwhelmed. I feel like a failure: why can’t I just hit send already???
I feel like I need a reason to reach out—a justifiable, clean, socially acceptable, not-too-clingy reason.
If it doesn’t pass that bar, it gets deleted.
And when I do have someone’s attention?
I feel guilty.
Like I’m taking up too much space.
Like I should back off, shrink down, let them breathe.
So I retreat.
Act like I didn’t need them after all.
Go back into isolation.
Even just texting “hello” to someone can paralyze me -
I’m clearly bothering them.
I’m clearly annoying.
I’m not worthy.
Even when something good happens to me that I want to share, I write it out, draft the message… and then delete it.
Because I don’t want to seem like I’m showing off. Like I’m too proud.
I’m pretty sure this is a relic of religious indoctrination -
drawing attention to myself instead of to god was considered sinful.
Being proud was “spiritually dangerous.”
When I really need to talk to someone—especially about my emotions—I double down and don’t say anything.
It becomes physically impossible to move.
I freeze.
The internal push-pull is so strong I get stuck in it every time, with every relationship:
The desperate desire to be seen and heard, mixed with the incapacitating fear of being vulnerable.
I’ve always had a waiting-for-the-other-shoe-to-drop feeling with people,
as if I can’t get too comfortable with them because they can turn against me on a dime.
When I was younger, I spent a lot of time in my own world,
so when my mother would get angry with me,
I would often be surprised.
Her fury was often startling and scary.
I didn’t understand it.
But I definitely internalized it:
There’s something wrong with me.
How could I be so stupid to not have seen it coming?
If I had done ___ better, this wouldn’t have happened.
Why am I always so bad when I try so hard to be good?
Now, no matter how badly I want connection—how deeply I crave belonging—
it’s almost impossible for me to reach out.
Because I’m scared.
Scared I’ll say the wrong thing.
Scared I’ll upset someone.
Scared they’ll see the real me and leave.
Scared to connect at all.
And that leaves me in this aching, lonely, silent place.
A place of intense longing with no way out, no viable solution.
I want to belong.
I want to feel seen.
I want to be heard.
But I’m so fucking scared to try…
because what if I try
and it confirms all my fears?
