Core Wounds Series: “I Am Defective/Something Is Wrong With Me”…and Why Dismissive Avoidants Keep Their Distance
- Oct 18
- 3 min read
Let’s talk about one of the quietest, most insidious wounds I see in my coaching practice: the deep, gnawing belief that “something is wrong with me.” For some, it shows up as the whisper, “I am defective,” the sense that—at your core—you are broken in a way that no amount of fixing can heal. It’s a wound often carried by those with a Dismissive Avoidant attachment style, and it shapes the way you relate, retreat, and try (and fail) to protect yourself from ever being truly seen.
Where Does This Wound Begin?
Maybe you grew up in a home where emotions weren’t exactly welcomed. Maybe you learned early that your needs were “too much,” or that your feelings made others uncomfortable, so you packed them away in a neat little box and hid them under lock and key. Over time, the unspoken message sinks in: “I am somehow wrong for wanting, needing, feeling. Better to not need at all.”
How It Shows Up
This core wound doesn’t always scream; sometimes it barely whispers. It’s the undercurrent behind “I don’t need anyone,” “I’m better off alone,” or “If I keep my distance, no one will find out what’s wrong with me.” You might pride yourself on self-sufficiency, on not “bothering” anyone. Relationships can feel dangerous, not because others are unsafe, but because intimacy threatens to expose the flaw you’ve worked so hard to hide—even from yourself.
If you’re a Dismissive Avoidant, you’ve likely become a master at downplaying needs, minimizing conflict, and disappearing into work or hobbies. The body keeps the score: tension in your chest, the urge to fidget or keep moving, a constant low-level anxiety that someone will see behind your armor.
The Lie and the Truth
The deepest lie of this wound is that your needs, feelings, and quirks are evidence of your defectiveness. The truth? Being human is not a flaw. Every single person you meet is carrying some hidden scar, some “unlovable” part. The difference is in how we relate to it.
The more you turn away from this wound, the more power it has. When you finally (gently) look it in the eye, you find there is nothing inherently wrong with you. There never was. The wound was never yours to begin with—it was handed to you by a world or family that didn’t know how to hold your tenderness.
Moving Toward Healing
Healing this wound starts with curiosity and compassion. Begin to notice—without judgment—when you’re pulling away, when you want to hide, when the old voice pipes up: “If they really knew me, they’d leave.” Instead of running from that voice, try pausing. Offer yourself the warmth you were missing. What does your body need right now? A deep breath? A gentle hand on your heart? Permission to want something, even if it feels risky?
Remember: you don’t have to leap into the deep end of vulnerability. Start with one toe in the water. Test the truth: Is it really unsafe to need? Is it actually true that something is wrong with you, or is that a story that kept you safe a long time ago?
You Are Not Broken
You are not defective. You are not broken. You are human, messy, beautifully imperfect, and absolutely worthy of connection—needs, scars, quirks, and all. The parts you think make you “unlovable” are the exact places your healing begins.
Ready to rewrite the story? I’m here to walk beside you. Reach out anytime.
With you in the messy middle,
Sarah




