You’re Not Needy

NEEDY. How I love the word. How I relish the opportunity to shoot it out of the sky like a flug terra cotta plate. Easy! I am Calamity Jane and the word needy is my warm up shot.

You’re not needy. 

For two hundred thousand years, your direct biological ancestors were low on the food chain. No scales, no claws, no big teeth, not even fur! Just each other. The only reason our species survived an era of living inside the Big Cat exhibit at the zoo is because we were instinctively motivated to stay close. We tracked each other, fretted and wailed when a baby went missing, kept our fellow sitting ducks nice and close. Any of your ancestors that would not have cared about a text back from a potential attachment figure would have long ago wandered off by themselves and been eaten by a herd of hyenas. It’s the ones that did care that stayed alive and passed on their genes.

You still have those genes. Your need for safety and security in your close attachments has the same imperative as your ancestor’s need to sleep inside the family cave at night. That is to say, if you don’t hear a resounding yes to questions like: 

“Are you there for me?”

“Will you come when I call?”

“Can I rely on you?”

…then your main attachment needs are not being met. This will make you, and two hundred thousand years of humans before you, very anxious. I implore you, stop fighting it. Or fight it, but know that fighting it is the equivalent of trying to stop your dog from barking when the doorbell rings. Face it: your dog is going to bark, and your heart is going to need others. Accept your need for safety and security. Lean into it. Speak for it. 

Yes, this pic was taken straight from the Wikipedia page for “caveman.” Thanks Charles R. Knight (1920)

And here’s the irony when we try to muzzle our needs for connection: if you don’t speak for it, it will show up as “neediness”--an inward feeling of anxious preoccupation with the other, an outward grasping for closeness.

But since, like most of us, you are soundly humiliated by the prospect of appearing “needy,” you have probably submerged your anxious preoccupation under some behavioral armor. Maybe you constantly threaten the relationship, saying you can’t take it anymore. It’s possible you get angry and blame–accusing the other person of being a “narcissist” or, at the very least, hopelessly inconsiderate. Maybe you flirt with other people, or don’t text back. 

If you were socialized as male, or to be particularly ashamed of your attachment needs, you probably have opted for a more dissociative approach. Maybe you compulsively distract yourself and rest in the comfort of numb focus. If I asked you, you would probably say you need a lot of alone time, or that you like to process “on your own.” While I won’t wrestle this treasured anchor from you here, I would ask if you also find it hard to stop drinking, smoking, watching porn, surfing the internet, eating sugar, playing video games, or engaging in any other behavior that has the important job of soothing your innate need to feel connected and safe. To your partner, you appear aloof, distant. 

Instead of acting out, try saying something like, “I tend to get insecure if I don’t get a text back within a few hours. What’s happening for you? Are you someone who generally checks their phone [like everyone else on the planet] or someone who jaws about “never being on their phone” as a way to avoid accountability for responding to my reasonable needs?” Feel free to phrase that last part however you like, but don’t let anyone shame you for wanting affirmation and reassurance. The only caveat here is that yes, you do need to report your needs in a loving way. Make space for the other person’s experience without getting all floppy about your boundaries and what you need to feel calm and centered. 

Many times, I have seen people who thought they were hopelessly “needy” meet someone who just texted them back, made plans, followed up when they said they would, and suddenly, this  incurably “needy” person is not preoccupied by the connection anymore. They are free to focus on collecting roots and berries instead of fretfully pacing in front of the cave entrance, so to speak. 

Under the armor, most of us are the same: shivering, afraid, powerful in our capacity to love and be loved. We cultivate our love with the right people by peeling back the layers of protection. In a word, needs are hot.