Romantic devastation: Finding Closure from a Dismissive-Avoidant Breakup

Recently, I made the decision to do something I’ve been putting off for far too long: I pulled the scab off my past pain and dove straight into the emotional wreckage with the support of a truly excellent psychotherapist.

It’s been intense. There are multiple heartbreaks and traumas I’m now bravely confronting—experiences I thought I had dealt with, but had only suppressed. The truth is, suppression isn’t healing. It’s emotional procrastination. And at some point, your mind and body demand your attention.

For me, that moment came when I couldn’t go on living with just two hours of sleep a night, constant chest pain, and unbearable headaches. My entire system was screaming at me to face the truth.

The temptation to numb it all with sleeping pills was immense, but something deeper in me knew: the real issue wasn’t physical—it was emotional. And it was time to face it head-on.

One wound has stood out sharply among the rest: a breakup with someone who had a dismissive-avoidant attachment style.

Let me be clear—the dismissive-avoidant provides no closure. I spent years ruminating, trying to make sense of why he pulled the rug out from under us when things seemed so good. And that’s exactly the trap.

The more emotionally present and connected you are, the more it triggers them to retreat. The closer you get, the more they shut down. Eventually, they ghost you, freak out, and run for the hills, leaving you alone in a world of confusion and heartache.

It’s possibly the worst kind of breakup imaginable—because their behaviour sometimes mirrors narcissism, but deep down, they’re not evil. They’re wounded. Most often from childhood. And they don’t even realise it. Emotional closeness terrifies them. They simply cannot handle it.

I spent so much time trying to decode him. Why would someone behave like that when everything—our chemistry, our connection—was screaming that it was right? But this is the painful truth: that one issue—his inability to handle emotional intimacy—overshadowed everything else.

It’s like dealing with a child who has a bank account—they have all the tools for love, but they just can’t access them.

For someone with a deep heart and high emotional intelligence, the impact is devastating. But here’s the hard-won insight: the root to healing is understanding. Using that emotional intelligence to get into their head—not to justify their behaviour , but to finally release yourself from it.

My closure came not from him, but from the clarity I fought for. I read countless books—on covert narcissism, healing from breakups, passive-aggressive behaviour . I even did a degree in psychology. But I couldn’t apply any of it to my situation. Nothing quite fit. Until I started reading about dismissive-avoidant attachment styles. Once I began to really understand that lens and got inside his psyche, it all clicked into place.

The gift of a high emotional IQ

In a strange way, that process of trying to understand him became a gift. It's a gift that someone with a high emotional IQ gives to their ex—even when they don't deserve it.

We care enough to figure out why they acted the way they did. We care enough to want them to get better—not for us, but for them. I genuinely mean that.

I don’t want people to live their entire lives unfulfilled, unknowingly trapped in emotional suppression, wondering why something always feels missing. That’s a quiet tragedy. And they don’t even see it happening.

I can now see him for what he is: wounded and afraid. On the surface, dismissive-avoidants appear strong, independent, even confident. But it’s all performance. Underneath, they’re emotionally shut off, often without even realising it.

Partners like me—empathetic, emotionally open—are often sent to wake them up. We tap on their hearts hoping to reach them. But if they don’t choose to confront their past, they’ll go on to find “safer” partners—people they don’t love as deeply, who don’t challenge them emotionally. It leads to relationships that feel more like roommates than lovers. Quietly unsatisfying. Slowly sapping the life from their soul.

Knowing this doesn’t make the devastation go away. But it does give me freedom. AND the closure that never came from him.

For years, I blamed myself. Wondered what I did wrong. Now I know: I did nothing wrong. He simply wasn’t capable of loving me the way I needed and deserved to be loved. And those breadcrumb texts he sent for years afterwards? Unspeakably cruel. Because I know he loved—and still loves—me. But love without emotional availability is like offering someone a feast while simultaneously putting a gag in their mouth.

Unless he chooses to seek therapy, to dig deep, and to heal, he will stay stuck. Unfortunately, that’s unlikely. Dismissive-avoidants avoid not just feelings, but introspection. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” they say. “You’re the problem.” It’s unconscious, but it’s gaslighting at its most painful.

The discarded partner is left carrying all the emotional weight. And if they have a big heart, and a sharp mind, the impact can feel like a complete unraveling. But we can survive it. We can come back stronger.

I'm determined to fully free myself from this. There are others in my life with similar attachment styles, and now I see the patterns so clearly. But my emotional intelligence—my empathy, my self-awareness—that will be my salvation.

I truly hope that by writing this down, I not only help myself heal, but help others, too. So often, these types of relationships are the hidden root cause of mental health issues like depression, anxiety, even misdiagnosed “disorders” like bipolar. There’s always a reason we crack—and more often than not, it's this kind of heartbreak. Invisible, complex, and deeply misunderstood.

You are not crazy. You are not broken. You were just trying to love someone who couldn’t let themselves be loved.

And that is not your fault.

TR