SERIES: Seven Core Issues in Adoption and Permanency – Intimacy

Intimacy: Wanting to Be Seen, Fearing Being Known

They Love Me, They Love Me Not?

When I think about intimacy, I think about closeness. Not just surface-level connection, but letting someone into your space on a deeply personal level. It means being raw with who you are. It means being seen beyond the version of yourself that feels safe to present.

And for me, that is exactly what makes it so uncomfortable.

Intimacy isn’t something that feels natural or easy. It feels exposing. There is something unsettling about being fully honest about who I am with another person, knowing they now have the ability to accept me or reject me. That level of vulnerability doesn’t feel freeing. It feels risky.

At the same time, I crave it. I tend to attach quickly in relationships. I want closeness, connection, and emotional depth. But alongside that desire is a constant awareness. I notice everything. A shift in tone. A delay in response. A slight change in energy. Things that other people might brush off, I feel immediately.

And when I feel it, my reaction is instant: panic.

Needing More Reassurance

If I sense even the possibility that someone is pulling away, my mind fills in the gaps. It tells me that I am being rejected. That I am not good enough. That I am too much to handle. These thoughts don’t feel like overreactions in the moment. They feel true, almost instinctive, like something I already knew but was hoping wouldn’t happen again.

So, I respond the only way I know how. I seek reassurance. I ask if everything is okay. I try to fix whatever I believe has shifted. I hyper-focus on the situation, replaying interactions, analyzing words, and searching for something I missed.

Even when I’m told everything is fine, the anxiety doesn’t fully go away. I feel it in my bones that something is wrong, and I can’t let it go. The need for reassurance isn’t about wanting attention or validation in a superficial way. It comes from a deeper place of fear and uncertainty that doesn’t quiet easily.

What Happened to Miss Independent?

From the outside, this can be misunderstood.

It might look like I need constant praise or that I’m overly focused on myself. It can come across as narcissistic or attention-seeking. But that isn’t what’s happening internally. What’s actually happening is insecurity. It’s worry. It’s a constant questioning of whether I am truly accepted or if I am on the verge of being too much for someone to stay.

There’s a tension that exists within me that is hard to explain but impossible to ignore. I deeply want connection, but I’m afraid to care and be rejected or told that my quirks, my needs, or my personality are too much. I want to be chosen, but I am constantly bracing for the possibility that I won’t be.

If I’m honest, the fear isn’t just about losing someone. It’s about never being fully chosen in the first place.

And that fear feels rooted much deeper than any single relationship.

What Shapes the Internal Narrative

In the framework of the Seven Core Issues in Adoption and Permanency, intimacy is not something that exists on its own. It is shaped by earlier experiences of loss and rejection. For me, it connects back to something simple but profound: I was rejected at birth. At least, that is how it feels. I wasn’t wanted before anyone even had the chance to know me.

That belief doesn’t just disappear with time. It becomes internalized. It turns into a quiet, but persistent narrative: I am not good enough.

So, when I get close to someone, that narrative doesn’t stay in the past. It shows up in the present. It influences how I interpret their actions, how I respond emotionally, and how I try to protect myself.

It’s why I need verbal confirmation. I need to hear that everything is okay. I need reassurance that I am wanted, that I am not too much, that I am not about to be left behind. That need is real.

And even with reassurance, there is still a part of me that remains cautious, still expecting that something could change.

Intimacy, then, becomes complicated.

It’s not just about letting someone in. It’s about managing the fear that comes with it. It’s about balancing the desire to be fully seen with the instinct to protect yourself from being hurt again.

For me, that often looks like trying to mold myself into what I think the other person wants, while also slowly revealing who I actually am and hoping that version is accepted. It’s a constant negotiation between authenticity and self-protection.

And it’s exhausting.

Is Healthy Intimacy Still Possible?

But despite all of this, I still believe in the possibility of healthy intimacy.

To me, healthy intimacy would feel like open communication. It would mean being able to express my needs without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. It would look like being accepted fully, flaws and all, without feeling like I need to minimize parts of myself to be loved.

It would also mean feeling safe enough that reassurance doesn’t feel like a lifeline, but rather a supportive part of the relationship. I don’t think the fear of abandonment ever fully disappears. But I do think it can be understood, supported, and met with consistency.

For anyone who struggles with intimacy in this way, it’s important to understand that these patterns are not random. They are shaped by experiences, often early ones, that taught us that connection can be unpredictable or unsafe. The way we respond is not a flaw – it’s  an adaptation.

And while those adaptations may not always serve us in the present, they make sense in the context of where they came from.

Intimacy is not just about closeness. It’s about risk. It’s about trust. And for many people impacted by adoption, foster care, and kinship care, it is about learning how to sit in that space of vulnerability without feeling like everything is at stake.

That process is not easy. But it is possible.

And it starts with understanding that wanting reassurance, fearing rejection, and struggling with closeness are not signs of weakness. They are signs of a nervous system that has learned to be alert, protective, and aware.

The goal isn’t to eliminate those feelings completely.

It’s to find relationships where those feelings can exist and still be met with patience, honesty, and care.