People who grew up with very little affection tend to display these 7 conflicting behaviors later in life (according to psychology)

My parents loved me. I know that intellectually.

But they expressed love through concern about financial security and achievement, not through hugs or words of affirmation. I was the "gifted" child who excelled at school, and that excellence was how I received approval.

Physical affection was rare. Emotional validation was practically nonexistent.

I didn't realize how this shaped me until I was in couples therapy with Marcus in my late thirties, unpacking why I had such a hard time accepting love even when it was right in front of me.

The psychologist explained something that clicked: children who grow up without consistent affection develop contradictory patterns. They desperately want connection but don't trust it. They crave intimacy but sabotage it. They're caught between need and self-protection.

According to attachment theory research, early experiences with caregivers create internal working models that shape how we relate to others throughout life. When those early experiences lack warmth and affection, the models become conflicted.

Here are seven contradictory behaviors that tend to show up.

1) Craving closeness while actively pushing people away

This is the core contradiction.

People who grew up without affection desperately want intimate connection. They fantasize about it. They ache for it. And the moment someone gets close, they find reasons to create distance.

I did this with Marcus early in our relationship. When he showed consistent care and attention, my instinct was to find problems. To focus on incompatibilities. To question whether the relationship was right.

My therapist pointed out that I was most critical when he was most loving. That wasn't coincidence.

When you grow up without affection, closeness feels dangerous. It triggers old wounds. Your nervous system learned early that letting someone in means inevitable disappointment or pain.

So you sabotage. You pick fights. You withdraw. You create the distance that feels safer than vulnerability, even though it's the opposite of what you actually want.

2) Being fiercely independent but secretly desperate for support

I learned early that asking for help was weakness.

My parents emphasized self-sufficiency above everything else. I was expected to figure things out on my own. Needing support meant failure.

So I became the person who never asked for help. I worked 70-hour weeks as a financial analyst, sacrificing everything for self-reliance. I took on significant student loan debt and spent until age 35 paying it off alone, never asking my parents for assistance even when I struggled.

But underneath that fierce independence? I was exhausted and lonely.

Studies on childhood emotional neglect show that kids who don't receive adequate affection often develop compulsive self-reliance as a coping mechanism. They learn they can't depend on others, so they become hyperindependent.

The contradiction is that the independence isn't chosen freely. It's defensive. And it leaves people isolated even when they're surrounded by others who'd be willing to help.

3) Overextending for others while neglecting their own needs

Here's a pattern I see constantly: people who grew up without affection become extreme caregivers for everyone except themselves.

I had to work through people-pleasing tendencies that developed from being a "gifted child." I learned early that my value came from what I could do for others, not from simply existing.

So I volunteered for everything. I mentored young women entering finance while barely taking care of myself. I was the friend everyone called in a crisis, but I never called anyone with my own struggles.

The contradiction is obvious: I couldn't accept care, but I compulsively gave it. I was running on empty while filling everyone else's tank.

This happens because giving feels safer than receiving. When you give, you're in control. When you receive, you're vulnerable. And vulnerability was punished or ignored in childhood, so you avoid it at all costs.

4) Being hypercritical of themselves but defensive about external criticism

My inner voice was brutal for years.

I struggled with perfectionism that made me miserable. Nothing I did was ever good enough. I'd obsess over small mistakes and dismiss significant achievements.

But when someone else criticized me? I became defensive immediately.

This contradiction makes sense when you understand its origin. Children who don't receive affection often internalize the message that they're fundamentally flawed. That's why love was withheld. So they develop harsh self-criticism as a form of self-protection.

But external criticism triggers that deep wound. It confirms their worst fear: that they really are defective. So they defend against it reflexively, even when the feedback is fair and helpful.

I had to learn through therapy that my defensive reactions weren't about the present moment. They were about protecting the vulnerable child inside who'd internalized "not good enough."

5) Seeking validation constantly but dismissing it when received

This one drove my colleagues crazy when I worked in finance.

I needed constant reassurance about my work. Was it good enough? Did I do okay? What could I improve?

But when someone praised me, I'd immediately dismiss it. "Oh, it was nothing." "Anyone could have done that." "I just got lucky."

Research on self-worth and childhood affection deprivation shows this pattern clearly: without early experiences of unconditional positive regard, people struggle to internalize validation. They seek it desperately but can't actually take it in.

The compliment doesn't match their internal self-concept, so they reject it. It feels fake or manipulative. They assume the person doesn't really mean it or doesn't understand the full picture.

This leaves them in a perpetual state of seeking something they can never actually receive. The hunger is never satisfied because they've built an immune system against the very nourishment they need.

6) Being emotionally guarded but occasionally oversharing

For years, I kept everything private. I didn't share struggles, fears, or vulnerabilities.

Then occasionally, usually triggered by stress or exhaustion, I'd overshare dramatically with someone I barely knew. I'd dump years of emotional content in one conversation, then immediately regret it and pull back.

This contradiction comes from never learning healthy emotional regulation and expression.

When affection is scarce in childhood, you don't learn how to gradually open up, how to gauge safe people, how to share in measured ways. You either keep everything locked down or you explode.

There's no middle ground. No gradual trust-building. Just walls or total vulnerability, with nothing in between.

I had to learn through journaling (I've filled 47 notebooks since starting at 36) and therapy how to find that middle ground. How to be appropriately vulnerable rather than oscillating between extremes.

7) Appearing confident while struggling with deep inadequacy

I projected confidence for decades.

As a financial analyst, I presented to executives, managed complex portfolios, made high-stakes decisions. I appeared competent and self-assured.

Inside, I was plagued by imposter syndrome and a constant sense that I was one mistake away from being exposed as a fraud.

This contradiction is exhausting. You're constantly performing confidence while feeling fundamentally inadequate underneath.

It developed because I learned early that showing vulnerability or uncertainty meant losing the conditional approval I did receive. My parents valued achievement, so I became high-achieving. But the achievement never touched the deep sense of unworthiness created by lack of affection.

When I experienced burnout at 36, the facade finally cracked. I couldn't maintain the performance anymore. And that breakdown became a breakthrough because I finally had to face what was underneath.

Final thoughts

If you recognize yourself in these patterns, understand that they're not character flaws. They're adaptive responses to an environment that didn't meet your emotional needs.

Children who don't receive affection aren't being difficult when they develop these contradictions. They're trying to survive in a world that taught them love was conditional or unavailable.

The good news is that these patterns can change. I'm living proof.

Through therapy, I learned that vulnerability isn't the same as being vulnerable to harm. I learned that asking for help isn't weakness. I learned that my need for control stemmed from childhood anxiety about my parents' approval, not from reality.

Marcus helped me experience what consistent, unconditional care actually feels like. That experience slowly rewired patterns I'd carried for decades.

It takes work. You have to be willing to sit with discomfort instead of immediately defending against it. You have to challenge internal narratives that have felt true your entire life.

But you can learn to accept love. To trust closeness. To believe you're worthy of affection not because of what you achieve but because you exist.

The contradictions don't disappear overnight. I still catch myself pushing away when Marcus gets too close. I still struggle with accepting help. But I recognize the patterns now, and recognition is the first step toward change.

If you grew up without affection, you deserved better. And it's not too late to give yourself what you needed then. Through therapy, healthy relationships, and intentional work, you can heal those old wounds.

The contradictions make sense when you understand their origin. And once you understand them, you can start to untangle them.