Universally Acceptable Behavior 5: ATTACHMENT

2/12/2025

Yesterday, my body went through a little hell of survival mode — thanks to a work app whose algorithms sometimes decide that a driver's boundaries and safety are secondary concerns.
Right before the evening bonus, I was sent to a dark, unlit loft settlement where residents wander like NPCs with an alcohol buff. Finding the recipient in those conditions is often like passing one of the "Squid Game" stages.
And, of course, the body switches to "crisis mode" after such an experience: in the evening, I started devouring everything in reach. No brakes, no shame — just primitive survival.
Although I usually fast and strictly limit calories, because my body — maybe due to hormone therapy, genetics, or age — immediately kicks into "store, store, store" mode otherwise.
That evening, the whole regime was just turned off, some piggy moment.
But it was precisely in this mini agony that one very clear realization happened — about attachment types and "Squid Game" logic. And another insight emerged, but that is for the next blog's post.

The Boredom of the Secure Ones
No matter if you're into attachment styles or not — the only one that functions healthily is secure attachment.
All the others, no matter how hard they try to create impressions, horizons, future visions... they eventually hit reality.
To some, they seem like the main "Squid Game" prize — and everyone else is just caterpillars doomed to crawl.
Others demonstrate the ability to connect with every possible person... just not with themselves.
The third ones demolish the system, but when the system doesn't react — they start demolishing themselves.
People burn out, relationships collapse, catastrophes begin, "wow effects" happen, but without inner support.
And the secure ones... they're boring. Peaceful. Simple. Yes, those who got married around their 27-35 and never divorced out of satisfaction, not duty.
Not the cosmic mushrooms, not tundra gods, not golden standards.
Just normal people — like everyone, and completely unique and exceptional like every one, who is walking this Earth.
Such the luxury of boring stability. And that's why they win.

Good news: attachment can be learned.
Just like you can learn to change behavior, giving up, for example, eating chicken or drinking alcohol, even if it was childhood comfort.
Biology doesn't go anywhere, but you can choose your behavior.
Exactly the same with attachment type — it's not fate, it's a skill.

"Squid Game" Metaphor for Attachment
⏺️ Avoidant – the game organizers, overseers, those sitting on golden toilets.
Everyone else seems lower to them, because otherwise they'd have to face their own inner world.
They won't let anyone win the game. Including themselves.
🔼 Anxious – the bulk of the players.
Quiet, compliant, fighting to the last drop of blood.
They think they're not worthy of winning — and that's more than enough to never win.
⏹️ Disorganized -- pure chaos.
From outliers to the invisible.
Sometimes with golden toilets, sometimes — with bloody knees.
They neither demolish the game nor continue it; insecurity never approaches zero.
Here you can find both the game creator (I'll write about him in the next entry too) and the first eliminated player you can't even remember.

The Exit Still Exists
Each of those badges — ⏺️🔼⏹️ — can become a simple, earthly, normal person who agrees with themselves and others.
The start is always the same:

Notice what game you're playing in.
Whether you're dragging someone else into it.
Or do you just flow with an inner rhythm that repeats because that's what you're used to: neither playing the game yourself nor forcing others to play, but randomly smashing the system or yourself.

Noticing is the first sign of healing.
And when you notice, choice appears:

Don't stay in the game,
No longer lead the game for others,
No longer worship the game as opposition to reality.

Then you start to understand that connection — with another or with yourself — is not a danger. It's just connection.
Just intimacy.
Just being.

Finally: You Realize Everyone Is Talking About Themselves
A person who pushes you away — is telling about themselves.
A person who can't be OK alone — is telling about themselves.
A person who does both: pushes away and fears loneliness — is telling about their inner chaos. Then you start to see how you're destroying your own life out of habit — and that becomes the turning point.

The exit from "Squid Game" is one: Self-Improvement. Start with yourself.