A lot of people have had seriously abusive childhoods which have caused issues later in life – but I never did and I’m grateful for that. I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining – and I’m also not a fan of “victimhood” – but I wanted to write this page as an example of abandonment that might make sense to others who have AvPD.
I also want to say that I’m deeply frustrated with myself for ending up the way I have. I know I didn’t have the most stable childhood, but plenty of people grow up with fractured families, complicated parents, and chaotic environments, and still manage to build reasonably steady lives. They seem to find a way to function, to move forward, to carve out an identity that isn’t defined by what happened to them.
I look at that and wonder why I couldn’t do the same. Why my experiences seemed to sink so deeply into me, shaping the way I think, feel, and relate to the world. It’s hard not to compare myself to those who appear to have coped better, and it’s even harder not to turn that comparison inward as criticism.
But the truth is, even as I feel this frustration, I also know that people respond differently to instability. Some bend, some break, some adapt, and some internalise everything until it becomes part of their personality. I ended up in that last category, and I’m still trying to understand why — and how to move forward from it.
Most people would probably agree that our childhoods affect who we become as adults (to a point; genes also play their part).
Early Childhood: The Groundwork of Attachment
I grew up with the usual 60s/70s “good hidings” – a mother who cared, but only to a point, and – most defining of all I suspect – the lies and confusion around who my real father was.
Until the age of twelve, I lived with my mum, dad and sister (who was seven years younger than me). At twelve, we moved to a different part of the country when Mum ran off with the greengrocer.
At fifteen years old, my mother casually said to me; “You know Rob isn’t your real father don’t you”? She was talking about my stepdad who me and my sister were periodically in contact with. I was stunned and remember sitting there with my jaw hanging low.
She asked me to guess who my real father was and I stupidly said Dennis (the greengrocer who came into my life when I was twelve). No, she said, it was another guy called Ricky who I vaguely remembered meeting sometimes when I was a child. We would go around to a middle‑aged woman’s house who had a boy 18 months older than me who I was told was my cousin. Ricky would also come and visit.
It turns out that this boy was apparently my full‑blooded brother, although I wasn’t to say anything.
She said that my real father told her he would give me £500 on my 16th birthday if she didn’t make him pay maintenance for me.
To be honest, after the initial shock, on the surface I wasn’t that fussed. I remember flicking through catalogues spending the £500 I was going to get the following year – which of course I never received.
When I was seventeen, I went to stay with my stepdad who told me that Mum was lying. Ricky wasn’t my real father. My real father was a guy called Brian, who I’d never met.
Oh, I thought. Murky waters.
What the Science Says
Attachment theory shows that children build their sense of safety and self‑worth through consistent, predictable caregiving. When care is inconsistent, emotionally limited, or unpredictable, children often develop anxious or avoidant attachment patterns.
These patterns can later evolve into avoidant personality traits, especially when combined with instability or secrecy.
Research on “genealogical bewilderment” shows that children who grow up without accurate information about their biological origins often experience:
- Identity confusion
- Chronic self‑doubt
- Difficulty forming stable relationships
- A sense of being “unanchored”
Repeated Abandonment: The Rules I Learned
One abandonment can feel like bad luck. Three taught me rules:
- I’m not worth sticking around for.
- I must be exceptional to be worthy.
Mother denied it and it wasn’t until I was in my mid‑thirties that I pinned her down and she admitted that yes, my stepdad was correct. My father was this random guy I’d never met. She eventually gave me a little silver bracelet that she said Brian had stolen for me, which I still have.
I hired a private investigator to find my father and found out that he had died when I was 26 and he was 45. I got on a train and knocked on the door of his last known address where I was greeted by his friendly widow and invited in for coffee. I stayed for a couple of hours and for the first time was shown photographs of my biological father which made me cry for the rest of the day. I also met a half sister. I returned home and we didn’t stay in contact because by this time, my personality was shifting into full AvPD mode.
What the Science Says
Repeated relational loss in childhood often leads to:
- Hypervigilance
- Fear of rejection
- Chronic shame
- The belief “I am the problem”
These beliefs are central to AvPD.
Boundary Violations: Being Sexualised as a Teenager
When I was 14 and 15, I’d go and stay with my mum’s sister in her mobile home. Her husband who I had called Uncle all my life took a shine to me and when I was 15, we started a sexual relationship, although we didn’t manage full sex at that time. After not seeing him for a year, we finally had sex on my 17th birthday while I was babysitting his small son. (Sorry.)
When it all came out when I was in my twenties, I got the blame and was told that I should have known better. And yes I should have – but I thought I loved him and I now know it wasn’t my fault. My young fifteen‑year‑old self was being treated as a grown up by a male figure 25 years her senior and who she had known since birth.
What the Science Says
When a child or teen is sexualised by an adult, the brain often responds with:
- Distorted self‑worth
- Confusion about love vs attention
- Difficulty trusting others
- A tendency to seek validation through relationships
- Being blamed for adult misconduct compounds the shame.
Family Chaos: A Relationship Map With No Logic
And just to add yet another layer to the genealogical chaos that was my teenage life: by the time I was 17, my aunt and uncle were finished. My aunt had run off with Peter from three caravans down, they split up, and then somehow my mum started seeing him – because apparently in my family, relationships are a shared resource.
Meanwhile, when I was 15 and staying with my aunt (and messing around with Uncle), I was seeing (non‑sexual) a 28‑year‑old man who my aunt later moved in with and almost married.
My aunt also had an affair with my dad – my stepdad – because, well, why not?
And just to put a delightful little bow on the whole disaster: my uncle dated a woman for a bit, and a few years later my dad went ahead and married her. By that point my family tree wasn’t a tree at all – it was more like a special edition Jeremy Kyle show complete with plot twists.
What the Science Says
Children need predictable relational structures to form a coherent sense of self. Chaotic family systems often produce:
- Identity diffusion
- Emotional instability
- Difficulty forming healthy adult relationships
Adolescence Without Guidance: The Missing Identity
As an adult, I followed the one pattern I should never have followed: choosing boyfriends based on their popularity and the confidence I wished I had. I never developed myself; I just became “their” girlfriend. Their life became my identity. I thought proximity to them would make me someone.
I followed the family dynamic. No career, no interests; just boys and men.
So when I look at my life – my diaries from fourteen onward filled with nothing but the need for male attention, and the lack of any self identity outside of that, I can see how it all fed into AvPD.
What the Science Says
Adolescence is the key period for developing:
- Autonomy
- Competence
- Identity
Without guidance, teens often attach their identity to others instead of developing their own.
How It All Converged Into AvPD
A childhood shaped by uncertainty and abandonment, and an adulthood shaped by not believing I could be someone on my own.
Those two things together have left me feeling worthless, incapable, and unlikeable. Which, unfortunately, is a pretty solid recipe for AvPD.
What the Science Says
AvPD often develops when three factors combine:
- Early attachment insecurity
- Repeated abandonment
- Lack of identity formation
I also just wanted to say that even though I can’t forgive my mother for not being truthful about the identity of my biological father, back then, the possible ramifications of not knowing your true identity wasn’t as serious as what is generally accepted now. My mum was working with her problems and issues from her own childhood.
I believe that if I had made something of my life and created my own identity, I wouldn’t be as anxious and feel as worthless as I do now. In my opinion, I have ended up with AvPD yes, because of my childhood but also due to the way I have lived my life since then.
I believe that in children’s early years – and especially during their early teens – they should be guided and taught about the importance of planning for their future. Their natural talents and interests should be noticed and encouraged, so that when they reach adulthood they have a sense of direction and identity and are less likely to try and find it through the people in their lives, as I did.
I also believe that everyone has a right to know who their biological parents are, and that whatever unresolved issues exist between those parents should never eclipse their responsibility to the child. Adult conflicts may be complicated, but a child’s need for honesty, stability, and presence is not.
In the end, this isn’t a story about blame or bitterness. It’s a story about cause and effect and how chaotic childhoods can make some people feel so worthless, that they end up with AvPD.