‘Why am I emotionally unavailable?’ It’s a question that I’ve avoided for so long, afraid of the answer because it forces me to confront the parts of myself I’ve hidden, even from myself. I know something is off—I can feel it in the distance I create, the walls I’ve built that keep people out, even when I don’t mean to. People who care about me try to get close, but I always seem to shut down. And the worst part is, I don’t always understand why.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been hurt before. Maybe it’s because love, real love, terrifies me in a way I can’t fully explain. I’ve seen what it can do, how easily it can slip from something beautiful into something painful. I’ve felt what happens when you open your heart only to watch it be shattered by betrayal, or neglect, or indifference. So, I learned to protect myself. I built walls high enough that no one could really get in, not even the people who mattered the most to me.

It’s like there’s a part of me that always holds back. I can be physically present, I can laugh, smile, and talk, but emotionally, I stay at arm’s length. I keep my feelings locked away because letting them out means being vulnerable, and vulnerability feels too risky, too dangerous. It’s safer to be detached, to be the one who doesn’t care too much, to be the one who is always in control. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

But in truth, being emotionally unavailable is a lonely place to live. It’s isolating. I feel like I’m floating on the surface of my relationships, never fully sinking into the depth that I know is there, that I crave but also fear. I can sense the frustration from the people around me—the ones who want more from me, who want me to be open, to trust, to let them in. But I struggle, not because I don’t care, but because I’m scared of what might happen if I do.

Maybe it’s not just fear of getting hurt. Maybe it’s also fear of not being enough. What if I open up and it’s not good enough? What if I let someone see all of me, the raw and imperfect parts, and they decide it’s not what they want? What if my vulnerability drives them away? I don’t know if I can handle that kind of rejection, so I push people away before they have the chance to reject me. I keep them at a distance, convincing myself that I’m just being cautious, that I’m protecting myself. But really, I’m just scared—scared of love, scared of being truly seen, scared of losing control.

I think part of it goes deeper, too. Growing up, I learned that emotions could be messy, unpredictable, and sometimes overwhelming. Maybe I didn’t always feel like it was safe to express them, so I taught myself to suppress them, to keep them in check. I’ve become so used to holding everything in that now, even when I want to open up, I don’t know how. It feels foreign, uncomfortable, like speaking a language I never learned. So, I avoid it, and instead, I retreat into myself.

I want to change, though. I don’t want to live in this emotional prison I’ve created for myself. I don’t want to keep people at a distance when what I truly long for is closeness, connection, and intimacy. But breaking free from this emotional unavailability feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, not sure if I’ll fly or fall.

It’s going to take time, patience, and a willingness to face the fears I’ve been running from. I need to confront the pain I’ve buried, the scars I’ve carried with me for so long. I have to remind myself that not every relationship will end in heartache, that not every person will leave. Some people are worth the risk, and love, real love, requires that risk. It requires opening up, even when it’s terrifying, even when every instinct tells me to close off.

I know I won’t get it right all at once. There will be moments when I retreat, when I fall back into old patterns because they’re comfortable, even though they’re unhealthy. But I’m learning that being emotionally unavailable isn’t serving me anymore. It’s holding me back from the kind of love and connection I truly want. It’s preventing me from fully experiencing the richness of relationships, of life.

So, why am I emotionally unavailable? Because somewhere along the way, I decided it was safer not to feel, not to risk, not to be vulnerable. But I’m starting to realize that in protecting myself from pain, I’ve also been keeping myself from joy, from love, from real human connection. And I don’t want to live that way anymore.

I’m not perfect, and this won’t be easy. But I’m ready to start breaking down the walls I’ve built, brick by brick, until I can finally let the people who care about me truly see me. I deserve that. And the people in my life deserve it, too. It’s time to stop hiding, to stop being afraid, and to let myself be vulnerable, even when it feels like the hardest thing in the world. Because in the end, that’s where the real beauty of life lies—not in staying safe behind walls, but in the messy, beautiful, and sometimes painful experience of being fully, unapologetically human.

-With love, H.

And you tell me about your experience down below?