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When Closeness Feels Overwhelming

Updated: 12 hours ago

Understanding Relational Sensitivity and the Need for Safety


What Is the Intimacy Barrier?

We all have invisible boundaries around how close others can get—physically, emotionally, and relationally. These are sometimes called our intimacy barriers. When someone crosses them too quickly or without permission, it can feel threatening—even if their intentions are kind.


These boundaries aren’t the same for everyone. They’re shaped by a wide range of experiences, including how safe, consistent, and attuned our early relationships were—and, for some people, by how their brain naturally processes social and sensory input.


Two individuals sit back-to-back on a park bench, both engrossed in their phones, amidst a tranquil outdoor setting.

How Early Relationships and Neurodiversity Shape Our Boundaries

From birth, our nervous system begins learning about connection—through eye contact, tone of voice, physical closeness, and other relational cues. If early interactions were warm and predictable, we’re more likely to associate closeness with safety. A reassuring touch, a caring question, or sitting near someone we trust can feel comforting and safe.


But when early relationships were unpredictable, neglectful, or painful, our brains may learn to associate closeness with risk. Even kind gestures—a soft look, a gentle voice, someone reaching out—can trigger a sense of danger or overwhelm.


This isn’t a sign that something is wrong with us. It’s a sign that our nervous system learned to stay safe by keeping some distance.


For others—including many neurodivergent people—relational sensitivity may not come from trauma, but from the way their brain processes sensory input or social cues. Unexpected touch, prolonged eye contact, or intense emotion can feel disorienting or overstimulating. The system might respond protectively—not out of fear, but because it’s doing its best to interpret and filter the world.


For instance, a loud voice or sudden affectionate gesture—even when loving—might feel too much, too fast.


When Connection Feels Like Too Much, Too Fast

When someone crosses a relational boundary—especially without permission or preparation—our nervous system might respond with automatic protective reactions, such as:


  • Fight – snapping, swearing, pushing away

  • Flight or freeze – withdrawing, going quiet, walking away

  • Fawn or dissociation – becoming passive, overly agreeable, or emotionally distant


These aren’t deliberate choices. They’re reflexive responses shaped by experience or by a sensitive system that’s doing its best to stay regulated.


Why Nurturing Can Sometimes Feel Unsafe

For people with relational trauma or heightened sensitivity, there’s often a painful paradox:


The more loving someone is, the more overwhelming it can feel.

Even if a person longs for closeness, being hugged, comforted, or emotionally supported can trigger fear—especially if they didn’t initiate it or don’t feel in control.


This can lead to confusing patterns, like:


  • Pushing away or lashing out at someone who’s being kind

  • Avoiding eye contact, touch, or conversations about emotions

  • Wanting attention, but feeling overwhelmed when it’s offered

  • Saying “go away,” then panicking when the other person actually leaves


These aren’t signs of rejection or defiance. They’re signs of a nervous system doing its best to stay safe—often in ways that even the person themselves doesn’t fully understand yet.


Longing for connection and needing space can coexist. That tension isn’t a flaw—it’s part of learning what safety really feels like.


What Can Help?

Whether relational sensitivity comes from trauma, neurodivergence, or both, healing often begins with safety, permission, and pacing.


Supportive foundations might include:


  • Presence without pressure – being nearby, but not demanding interaction

  • Permission and control – letting the person set the pace for closeness

  • Predictability – responding consistently and gently over time


This might look like:


  • Waiting for someone to initiate a hug rather than offering one

  • Sitting beside them during a hard moment, rather than directly facing them

  • Letting them choose when (and if) to talk about emotional things

  • Staying calm and grounded even when they lash out or withdraw


These small moments of attuned support may not change things overnight—but over time, they create the safety that allows new patterns to take root.


Journal Prompts for Reflection

If any of this resonates with you—whether you’re exploring your own experience or supporting someone else—these questions might offer space for reflection. You don’t need to answer all of them. Let them be an invitation, not a task.


For Individuals

Exploring your own relationship with closeness and boundaries:


  • When do I feel most at ease being close to someone—physically or emotionally?

  • What kinds of gestures or interactions feel safe for me? Which ones feel too much?

  • Have I ever felt overwhelmed by someone’s kindness? What was happening?

  • What helps me feel more in control when connecting with others?

  • If I pull away or shut down, what might my nervous system be trying to protect me from?


For Caregivers, Partners, or Loved Ones

Supporting someone with a sensitive intimacy barrier:


  • How do I usually respond when the person I care about pulls away, lashes out, or seems distant?

  • What comes up for me emotionally in those moments—confusion, hurt, worry?

  • What helps me stay present without pushing? What’s hard about that?

  • Have I noticed any patterns in what seems to feel “too much” for them?

  • How can I offer safety and connection while honouring their pace and needs?


Final Thoughts

Relational sensitivity is not a flaw—it’s an adaptation. Whether it developed in response to trauma, sensory overload, or both, it reflects a nervous system doing its best to stay safe.


With time, choice, and consistent safety, new experiences of connection can become possible—ones that don’t overwhelm, but feel mutual, steady, and real.




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If this post resonates, you might like to explore more about:



There’s no one way to navigate closeness. Whether you're feeling flooded, distant, or somewhere in between—support is here if you’d like to explore what safety and connection could look like, at your own pace.

Disclaimer

Feeling uneasy about closeness—whether emotionally or physically—is a deeply human experience, often shaped by past relationships, protective patterns, or the body’s natural responses to threat. This post offers general reflections and is not a substitute for individualised support. If something here stirs strong feelings or questions, a trauma-informed professional can support you in exploring these themes safely and at your own pace.


Some of the trauma-informed concepts in this article draw on the neurodevelopmental work of Dr Bruce Perry and colleagues, particularly around how early relational experiences shape nervous system responses. Neurodivergent experiences are discussed here in a broader context and are not covered in the original source.

The Grove Psychology Practice acknowledges the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as the Traditional Custodians of the lands and waterways across Australia. We recognise the deep connections that First Nations people have to Country and pay our respects to Elders past and present. 

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