People who were raised without physical or verbal affection often exhibit these 7 behaviors later in life

I grew up in a household where affection wasn't really shown.

No hugs goodbye. No "I love you" before bed. No physical comfort when I was upset.

It wasn't that my parents didn't love me. They showed it through providing for us, making sure we were fed and clothed and educated.

But the warm, fuzzy stuff? That just wasn't part of our family culture.

For years, I thought everyone grew up that way. It wasn't until I had friends stay over and witnessed their parents hugging them or saying sweet things that I realized my experience was different.

And as I've gotten older, I've noticed patterns in myself and others who grew up similarly. Behaviors that trace directly back to that lack of physical and verbal affection in childhood.

These aren't always obvious. They're subtle ways we've adapted to protect ourselves or cope with that early deficit.

1. Struggling to accept compliments

This is something I still catch myself doing.

When someone compliments me, my immediate reaction is to deflect. To minimize. To make a joke or point out all the ways I actually failed.

"Oh, this old thing?" "I just got lucky." "Anyone could have done it."

I never learned to simply say "thank you" and accept kind words at face value.

When you grow up without verbal affection, without hearing that you're loved or valued or doing well, compliments feel foreign. Almost suspicious.

There's this voice in your head questioning whether the person really means it. Whether you actually deserve the praise. Whether they're just being polite.

I've had to actively work on this. Training myself to pause before deflecting. To simply say thank you and let myself believe it might be true.

But my default is still discomfort with positive feedback.

People who grew up with regular verbal affection don't have this problem. They learned early that they're worthy of kind words. For those of us who didn't, it's a skill we have to learn as adults.

2. Being uncomfortable with physical touch

I'm not naturally a hugger.

When people reach out for a hug, I tense up. It feels awkward and forced, even with people I genuinely care about.

It's not that I don't want connection. I just didn't learn to express it or receive it through physical touch.

In my family, physical affection was rare. We didn't hug. We didn't hold hands. We didn't sit close on the sofa.

So now, as an adult, physical touch doesn't feel natural or comforting. It feels invasive, even when it's meant affectionately.

I've learned to tolerate it. To hug people back when they initiate. But it never feels entirely comfortable.

My husband comes from an affectionate family. Early in our relationship, he'd reach for my hand or pull me close, and I'd instinctively pull away.

It took conversations and time for me to explain that it wasn't about him. I was just learning a language I'd never been taught.

3. Difficulty expressing emotions verbally

Saying "I love you" still feels strange coming out of my mouth.

Even to my husband. Even to close friends. The words catch in my throat like they're in a foreign language.

When you grow up in a household where emotions aren't verbalized, you never develop that vocabulary. You learn to show love through actions maybe, but putting feelings into words feels vulnerable and uncomfortable.

I remember the first time my husband told me he loved me. I froze. I felt it too, but I couldn't say it back. Not right away.

It took me weeks to get those words out. And even now, years later, I have to consciously remind myself to say them.

People who grew up hearing "I love you" regularly don't understand this struggle. For them, expressing affection verbally is as natural as breathing.

For those of us who didn't, every vulnerable statement feels like a risk.

4. Overcompensating with actions

Here's something I've noticed about myself and others with similar backgrounds.

We show love through doing rather than saying or showing.

If I care about you, I'll help you move house. I'll cook for you when you're sick. I'll remember your birthday. I'll be there when you need practical support.

But asking me to say how I feel or give you a hug? That's much harder.

This comes directly from how we learned to interpret love. Our parents didn't say they loved us, but they worked hard to provide for us. So we learned that love is action, not words or touch.

The problem is that not everyone speaks this love language. Some people need to hear the words. They need physical affection.

And we're often blind to those needs because we're so focused on showing love the only way we know how.

I've had to learn to balance this. To recognize that even though actions feel more natural to me, I need to push myself to also provide the words and touch that others need.

5. Being hyper-independent

I've always prided myself on my independence.

I learned to do everything myself. To not need help. To handle my own problems.

But I've realized this isn't just a personality trait. It's an adaptation.

When you don't experience physical comfort as a child, when no one hugs you when you're upset or verbally reassures you that things will be okay, you learn to self-soothe.

You learn to not need that comfort from others because it's not available anyway.

So you become someone who handles everything alone. Who doesn't ask for help. Who feels uncomfortable being vulnerable or admitting you need support.

This looks like strength from the outside. And in some ways, it is.

But it's also lonely. It keeps people at a distance because you never let them see you need anything.

I'm learning to let people in more. To ask for help sometimes. To admit when I'm struggling.

But my instinct is still to handle everything myself.

6. Difficulty reading emotional cues

This one took me a long time to recognize.

I'm not naturally good at picking up on subtle emotional signals from others.

If someone is upset but not saying so directly, I often miss it. I don't notice the small changes in tone or body language that indicate how someone is feeling.

I think this comes from growing up in an environment where emotions weren't openly expressed or discussed.

I never learned to read the subtle signs of emotional states because emotions in my house were either completely hidden or explosively obvious with nothing in between.

So now I struggle with the nuance. With understanding someone is hurt when they say they're fine but their voice says otherwise.

My husband has had to learn to be more direct with me about his feelings because I genuinely don't pick up on hints well.

It's not that I don't care. I just never developed that skill of reading emotional subtext.

7. Seeking validation through achievement

Here's the big one I've had to work on in therapy.

I learned early that I might not get praise for being loved, but I could get it for achieving things.

Good grades. Accomplishments. Success.

So I became someone who constantly achieves. Who sets goal after goal. Who never feels like I've done enough.

Because achievement became my way of feeling valued. If I couldn't feel loved just for existing, at least I could earn approval through success.

This has served me well in some ways. I'm driven. I accomplish things. I don't give up easily.

But it's also exhausting. There's no finish line. No amount of achievement that makes me feel like I'm enough.

Because what I'm really seeking isn't another accomplishment. It's that unconditional love and affection I missed as a child.

And no career success or external validation can actually provide that.

I've had to learn to separate my worth from my achievements. To understand that I'm valuable simply for being, not for what I accomplish.

It's hard work. And honestly, I'm still learning.

Final thoughts

I want to be clear about something.

Writing about these behaviors isn't about blaming my parents or anyone else's. They did the best they could with what they knew and what they'd experienced themselves.

Many of them probably grew up the same way. That lack of affection gets passed down through generations until someone breaks the cycle.

But recognizing these patterns is important. Because once you see them, you can work on them.

You can learn to accept compliments. You can practice expressing emotions verbally. You can let people in instead of staying hyper-independent.

You can slowly teach yourself the things you didn't learn as a child.

It's not easy. These patterns run deep. They're wired into how we relate to ourselves and others.

But they're not permanent. With awareness and effort, you can develop new ways of being.

I still struggle with many of these behaviors. But I'm better than I was five years ago. And I'll be better still in five more years.

If you recognize yourself in these patterns, know that you're not alone. And more importantly, know that you can change.

The lack of affection you experienced as a child doesn't have to define how you connect with others for the rest of your life.