How I Finally Became Emotionally Available (It Wasn’t Pretty)

I used to think being emotionally available meant crying during sad movies or saying “I’m here for you” when a friend was going through something.

But real emotional availability?
It’s deeper. It’s messier. And truthfully, getting there required me to face the parts of myself I had spent years avoiding.

This isn’t a story about a quick breakthrough.
It’s a story about uncomfortable truths, quiet inner work, and the kind of growth that doesn’t look good on Instagram. 😅

I Thought I Was “Fine”

For a long time, I believed I was emotionally open. I could talk about my feelings. I had deep conversations. I gave advice. I was empathetic — or so I told myself.

But when it came to receiving love, asking for support, or letting people in beyond surface-level closeness?

I froze.
I distanced.
I made excuses.

I wanted intimacy, but only on my terms. I wanted connection, but only if it didn’t ask me to be vulnerable in ways I hadn’t rehearsed.

Emotional Availability Requires Safety — And I Didn’t Feel Safe

Somewhere along the line, I learned that emotions were dangerous territory. Expressing need was weakness. Being too open could lead to abandonment or rejection.

So I built a quiet fortress. One with charm, independence, and just enough self-awareness to look like I was emotionally healthy — without ever actually letting anyone touch the raw parts of me.

It wasn’t until I lost someone who truly wanted to love me, but couldn’t get through, that I started to ask myself:
What am I so afraid of? 💔

The Breaking Point

There wasn’t one single moment, but a series of them. A friend calling me out. A relationship ending. A therapist saying, “You intellectualize everything — but what do you feel?”

I didn’t like the answers. I didn’t like how numb I felt when I should’ve been heartbroken. Or how angry I became when someone tried to care for me.

So I did something radical:
I stopped running.
I stopped hiding behind “I’m fine.”

And I let the pain come up.

The Messy Middle

Becoming emotionally available meant crying over things I didn’t think still hurt me.
It meant reaching out when I wanted to isolate.
It meant learning to sit with sadness, shame, and longing — without fixing it, just feeling it.

I started saying things like:

“I’m not sure how to talk about this, but I want to try.”
“I’m scared, but I don’t want to shut down.”
“I care about you, and I don’t always know how to show it.”

It was awkward. Clumsy. Sometimes even embarrassing. But it was real. 💬

What I’ve Learned About Emotional Availability

It’s not about being emotionally perfect — it’s about being emotionally present.
You can’t be emotionally available to others if you’re emotionally unavailable to yourself.
True intimacy requires risk — the risk of being seen, misunderstood, even hurt. And that’s okay.
Safety isn’t the absence of fear. It’s knowing you’ll stay with yourself anyway.

🌱 Reflection Prompts

In what situations do you tend to emotionally shut down or check out?
What did you learn about vulnerability growing up — and how is it still shaping you?
What would it look like to let someone see the real you, even just 5% more?

🌐 Related Reading

All about relationships

If emotional availability and healing your attachment style resonate with you, I highly recommend reading “Attached” by Amir Levine and Rachel Heller.