What It Really Takes to Make an Anxious–Avoidant Relationship Work
Anxious–avoidant relationships get a bad reputation.
If you’ve spent any time in attachment spaces, you’ve probably heard some version of: “Just don’t do it.”
“Find a secure partner.”
“These dynamics are doomed.”
I don’t actually believe that’s the full story.
Yes—anxious–avoidant pairings can be chaotic, painful, and deeply triggering. I’ve lived that reality. But I’ve also built a beautiful, secure relationship with my partner, despite my history of anxious attachment and his history of fearful avoidance. We’ve had all the classic friction points, and we’ve had to work for what we have.
So no, I don’t think these relationships are doomed—but I am very honest about what they require. And it’s not easy.
If an anxious–avoidant relationship is going to go the distance—and become a container for healing rather than harm—there are three essential, non-negotiable ingredients.
1. Commitment (Real Commitment)
This doesn’t mean marriage, engagement, or long-term plans necessarily. What it does mean is both feet in.
There has to be a shared sense that:
We are committed to each other
We are committed to this relationship
And we are committed to doing the work
Without that, the relationship becomes fundamentally unsafe.
If every disagreement carries the implicit threat of a breakup—“Is this the fight that ends us?”—the anxious partner will start self-abandoning to keep the peace, and the avoidant partner will have an easy exit whenever things feel hard.
That dynamic makes real growth impossible.
One of the most important boundaries in any relationship—but especially anxious–avoidant ones—is this:
Breaking up is not something you talk about unless you mean it.
Threatening to leave should never be used as:
A way to express hurt
A way to gain leverage
A way to create distance
Or a way to regulate overwhelm
Both anxious and avoidant partners can fall into this pattern for different reasons, but it reliably erodes safety every time.
Commitment creates containment. And containment is what allows you to:
Take emotional risks
Have rupture without catastrophe
Trust that repair will follow conflict
Without that sturdiness, the relationship stays too wobbly to do the deeper healing work.
2. Humility
This one is hard for all of us—especially when we’re activated.
Under stress, it’s very easy to believe that the other person is the problem:
If they were different, this would work.
Why can’t they just do this one thing?
I’m trying so hard—why aren’t they?
That sense of righteousness can feel incredibly convincing. And it will keep you stuck.
Making an anxious–avoidant relationship work requires the humility to say:
I am part of this dynamic.
My coping strategies have shadow sides.
I don’t have a monopoly on the “right” way to do relationships.
Even people-pleasing, over-giving, self-sacrifice, and endless generosity—often framed as being “loving”—carry unconscious control, resentment, or self-abandonment. That doesn’t make you bad. It just means there’s more to clean up.
Humility looks like:
Owning your contribution without defensiveness
Being willing to be wrong
Listening to understand, not to convince
Accepting that compromise is inevitable
The moment we stop trying to win and start trying to understand, things begin to soften. That doesn’t mean dropping boundaries or tolerating harm—it means staying curious instead of entrenched.
3. Capacity
This is the piece that often gets missed—and it’s crucial.
You can have commitment. You can have humility. But if one or both partners lack capacity, the relationship still won’t be workable.
Capacity includes:
Nervous system regulation
Emotional resilience
Relational and communication skills
If someone becomes completely dysregulated when triggered—shutting down, disappearing, raging, or exploding—and doesn’t yet have the ability to choose a different response, that’s a capacity issue.
Capacity isn’t fixed. It can grow.
But there needs to be enough capacity to do the work required to build more capacity.
So important questions to ask are:
Can we have difficult conversations without everything falling apart?
Can we stay present through conflict?
Does this relationship feel like a safe container for growth?
Do we each have the tools—or at least access to the tools—to become more secure?
If one or both partners are at the very beginning of their healing journey, the anxious–avoidant dynamic may simply be too activating right now. Love and commitment alone can’t compensate for a lack of nervous system or relational capacity.
A Grounded Hope
I’m not pessimistic about anxious–avoidant relationships. I’ve seen many of them transform into deeply secure, connected partnerships.
But I’m also discerning.
Sometimes, the truth is that a person—or a relationship—doesn’t yet have the capacity required. And it’s not meant to be that hard all the time. We don’t need to turn every relationship into a complex puzzle when the answer is often simpler than we want it to be.
When commitment, humility, and capacity are present, anxious–avoidant relationships can become an incredible gift—calling both partners out of their extremes and into something more secure, grounded, and free.
But that only happens when there is enough safety and containment to support the work.
Sending you lots of love.