8 Things I Got Wrong About Secure Attachment

I used to think being securely attached meant you had your emotional shit together 100% of the time. 

It was as if you had this ultra-zen stoicism that nothing could rattle. 

You could control, without having to “cope”. 

Regulate without relapse. Feel without falling apart. 

Yeah…apparently, that’s not how it works.

Recently, I’ve learned that healing my attachment wound was never about not getting triggered again; it was about the action I took when I inevitably would get triggered…again. 

And again. 

And again. 

It isn’t the badge you earn for being perfect.

Secure attachment is earned when you recognise that you are OK with being a total fucking mess…emotionally speaking.

Key Takeaways

• Secure attachment doesn’t mean you never feel anxious or avoidant.
  
• You can have secure traits and still screw up in relationships.
  
• People with secure attachment still need boundaries and alone time.
  
• Secure doesn’t mean passive—it's not the same as being “chill.”
  
• Attachment styles can shift (yay, neuroplasticity).
  
• You can be secure with one person and insecure with another.
  
• Secure folks also get therapy (yes, really).
• No one is “done” healing—it’s a moving target.

1. I thought being secure meant mastery over my emotions.

Wrong. 

Securely attached people get rattled, sad, jealous, anxious, avoidant, angry, despondent, bitter, irritable…all the “bad” feels, just as much as the “good”. 

It’s not about having mastery over your emotions; it’s about mastering your response to them. 

I thought having a secure attachment meant I shouldn't be so sad over a breakup or feel profoundly triggered by being in the same room as her. 

“I’m secure! This shouldn’t be happening!” 

Happening, however, it really fucking was. 

I hadn’t immediately become some fearless Mohammed Ali of emotions; I was crashing around in the emotional storm, untethered and desperately afraid.

I later recognised that feelings don’t come from the insecure wound. They come from the event. 

Insecure attachment fears those feelings because it believes we’re bad for feeling them. It tells us we must escape and silently drives what we do to avoid them.

Secure attachment manifests behaviourally, not emotionally.

It’s being afraid of it, and doing it anyway. 

It’s allowing yourself to feel all of it, every depth, breadth, nook, and cranny of every feeling available to humankind, and believing that you will be OK if you do nothing but feel. 

2. I assumed securely attached people don’t have baggage

Also wrong. 

Everyone has baggage. Granted, it’s a loaded term, but it’s OK to have it. 

It just means you’ve had any sort of life experience. 

We think of baggage as inherently negative. Whether it’s trauma, bad habits or toxic traits, we seem to view baggage more like a bomb at an airport, rather than the natural accumulation of responses to circumstances. 

Secure attachment doesn’t mean you shed your life’s events; it allows you to unpack them therapeutically. 

You’ll always have the bags; they just get better organised, so you know what’s coming from where. 

3. I thought secure people were always available

Definitely not. 

Emotionally available, sure, but that means their emotions and needs are understood and communicated clearly. It doesn’t mean they are a 24/7 helpline.

This includes boundaries and honesty about when they need some space. 

Secure attachment is the belief that your self-worth is consistent, existing separately from the natural need for independence, and the amount of time you spend with a partner.

4. I thought secure people didn’t trigger others

Who knew?! 

You can show up calm and loving, and still activate someone’s abandonment wound. 

In some cases, it’s the very security that does trigger the other partner’s wounds. That’s a tough break, but it’s not a failure—it’s just how relationships (and, sadly, trauma) work.

5. I believed secure people were born that way

Sure, some are lucky enough to grow up with healthy emotional attunement (shoutout to those unicorns). 

But a lot of secure folks earned their secure attachment. 

Through therapy. Journaling. Feeling (ew, right?!) Screaming into pillows. Good relationships. Bad relationships. Good breakups. Really fucking terribly awful breakups. Self-reflection and more therapy.

Some even earn theirs through writing blog posts that nobody reads…

...because my worth isn’t determined by my followership. 

6. I thought secure meant “low maintenance”

Yeah…nah…

Secure people are people too, and they have needs like anyone else. 

They’ve just learned how to identify, own, and communicate their needs.

Instead of silently resenting a partner and not really knowing why, they’ll say,

“Hey, I’m feeling disconnected. Can we check in?”

7. I assumed secure attachment was permanent

Actually, it’s fluid. 

You can become more secure over time… and regress if triggered too often and too deeply without recognising it. 

This was something I experienced in my most recent relationship. 

I showed up securely ready to love, meaning my nervous system was wide open to connecting, trusting, and co-regulating.

I felt a few anxious pings, here and there, but I mentioned them, we talked about it, and I felt like we were making inroads towards this fabled securely attached relationship that everyone bangs on about.

At some point, I felt her starting to pull away. It was subtle, but my anxious hypervigilance kicked in like a beast. 

I rode it well, mostly, until the relationship ended abruptly.

Then it smashed me right out of the way and…well…yeah…it wasn’t pretty. 

But, I’m not perfect, I never pretended to be perfect, and once I recognised the anxious wolfhound had broken free, I called him back with compassion, love and understanding. 

He still rides shotgun, and I appreciate that he’s only trying to protect me. 

Thank you, anxious wolfhound. I’m grateful for your efforts, and I want you to know that it’s OK—I’ve got this. 

Your attachment style isn’t a life sentence—it’s a snapshot.

8. I thought being secure meant the work was “done”

Ah, my favourite myth: that healing has a finish line. 

Secure attachment isn’t a destination—it’s a practice. 

“Doing the work” includes reading Attached by Levine and Heller, rabbit-holing every attachment theory subreddit, and, of course, those all-too-important affirmations. 

And, of course, it’s embodying honesty, humility, authenticity and accountability. 

But the real work, the work that makes the difference, is facing the messy moments—however many there are—each and every one. 

The ones you have with your partner and the ones you have alone afterwards, crying into your McMuffin when you’ve decided to take a breather to consider whether kids are an option for your relationship. 

Those moments are “the work”. 

Allowing them, discussing them and moving through them without pulling the panic cord…that’s “the work”. 

And it doesn’t end. 

Nor should it.

Conclusion

Earning secure attachment is an alluring idea when we first accept our attachment wounds. 

It speaks to salvation from our pain, the healing of our wounds and bringing calm to the chaos. 

While those things are absolutely possible, earned security does not do this for us.

We earn security by learning how to manage our pain, tending to our wounds and allowing the chaos to live internally, even though we’re scared to death of it. 

If you’ve been beating yourself up for not being securely attached 100% of the time, stop. 

Nobody is. 

We all have our weird edges and flare-ups. 

Secure attachment is about resilience, responsibility, and repair. It’s not about perfection.  

So maybe you’re not broken. 

Maybe you’re just learning a new way to love, one awkward, beautiful, terrifying step at a time.

And from where I’m standing, you’re doing a great job.

If you want to know more about attachment styles, read this post:

Attachment Styles 101

By

James Delin