People in therapy are often exposed to the idea of attachment theory. Research has been accumulating about this idea since the 1930s, so it’s hardly a new concept. Basically, it’s an attempt to explain how our childhood affects our relationships as adults. It describes how we relate to others and explores the connection between how we were treated as infants and how we behave in romantic relationships. (See Does Your Attachment Style Affect Your Relationship?) Research further indicates that our first early bonds are what ultimately shape our view of how relationships should feel and work. (See The Child In You Alive Today.)

But there’s more to the connection between childhood experiences and the person we become. What we experience as a child often molds our behavior as adults in subtle and perhaps paradoxical ways. Writing for the website VegOut, Maya Flores explores this idea in depth. She writes, “What most of us don’t realize is that the traits we celebrate as strengths in adults are often elaborate coping mechanisms developed by children who had to survive emotional deprivation. The independence we admire might be isolation in disguise. The resilience we praise might be an inability to ask for help. The empathy we value might come from hypervigilance learned in an affection-starved childhood.” Following up on this idea, she lists 10 seemingly admirable traits that might actually have their roots in a troubling issue from childhood.

“Emotional self-sufficiency that looks like strength.” This is an observation straight out of attachment theory. It’s okay and even preferable not to need another because the person you need might be there for you — or so the child in the adult believes.

“Trust issues dressed as discernment.” Discernment is a valuable ability — unless discernment inevitably leads to the conclusion that it’s better to keep your guard up at all costs.

“An insatiable craving for affection they can’t accept.” This is a destructive, vicious cycle. As Flores describes it so well: “Here’s the cruel irony: those who grew up starved of affection often become adults who both desperately crave it and reflexively reject it when offered. They’re like people dying of thirst who can’t stop themselves from pushing away the glass of water.”

“Independence that won’t accept help.” This is a classic mindset of someone who was starved for emotional support as a child. Asking for help is tantamount to admitting weakness. Flores lays out the pattern of behavior, saying “it’s actually a survival mechanism — when you learn early that help isn’t coming, you stop expecting it, then you stop accepting it, then you stop recognizing when you need it.”

“Empathy born from hypervigilance.” This is a fascinating ability that some people have. They may be lauded as having a high “emotional intelligence.” But how did they develop their EQ? If they became expert as a child at  spotting telltale signs of approval or rejection, it’s actually sad that as an adult they can’t stop themselves from relentlessly looking for positive cues from their partner or friends.

“Fear of rejection that shapes entire lives.” Having been emotionally abandoned as a child, someone carries that fear into adulthood — not necessarily of abandonment but of rejection… which is in their minds proof that they are not worthy of love.

“Intimacy that feels like drowning.” Paradoxically, the person who did not receive affection as a child, who might be expected to delight in affection found at last, instead rejects it because it is simply overwhelming.

“Overcompensation that exhausts.” How do you earn love if deep down you suspect you don’t deserve it? You give until it hurts — gifts, vacations, promises of all kinds. But giving with the expectation of receiving is not loving. It is an attempt to buy love.

“Resilience that doesn’t know when to bend.” Of course resilience is good. But how was that resilience developed? Out of the necessity of a child who never had someone to help them back up when they fell? That adult may find it hard to accept help or admit weakness.

“Perfectionism as a plea for love.” The underlying thought and motivation for a drive for perfectionism may turn out to be almost too sad to contemplate: if I was just a little better, if I was perfect, then I would be loved.

Some of these traits can in their own way be a positive — if they’re not taken to extremes. If any pattern of behavior is taken too far — if striving to be better is an obsession with being perfect — it’s time for serious self-reflection. Is there something from childhood that needs to be resolved?