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Why You Keep Attracting Emotionally Unavailable People (It’s Not What You Think)

Why You Keep Attracting Emotionally Unavailable People

Why You Keep Attracting Emotionally Unavailable People (It’s Not What You Think)

Article Summary

One of the most common things I hear in therapy is:

“I don’t know why I keep attracting emotionally unavailable people.”

Sometimes they describe the same relationship over and over again.

Different names.

Different countries.

Different careers.

Different personalities.

Yet somehow the ending is always remarkably similar.

The relationship begins intensely.

Everything feels exciting.

Then slowly, distance appears.

Communication changes.

Anxiety increases.

One person starts chasing.

The other starts withdrawing.

Eventually the relationship ends, leaving them asking the same painful question:

“Why does this keep happening to me?”

Many people believe they’re simply unlucky.

Others believe narcissists somehow find them.

Some convince themselves they’re just choosing the wrong people.

After years of working with trauma and relationships, I see something rather different.

They’re usually not attracting emotionally unavailable people.

They’re choosing what feels familiar.

More importantly…

they’re often emotionally unavailable themselves.

That isn’t criticism.

It’s not blame.

It’s an observation born from years of sitting with people whose nervous systems learned one powerful lesson very early in life:

Getting close to someone eventually leads to getting hurt.

Once that belief exists, everything else begins making sense.

This article isn’t about attachment labels.

It isn’t about blaming parents.

It’s about understanding how trauma quietly teaches the nervous system to protect itself from intimacy—and why that protection often becomes the very thing preventing healthy relationships.

Table of Contents

  • Are You Really Attracting Emotionally Unavailable People?
  • The Hidden Truth About Emotional Availability
  • Why Your Nervous System Chooses Familiarity
  • Why Testing Relationships Never Works
  • The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
  • The Three Stages of Healing
  • Frequently Asked Questions

I Don’t Think You’re Attracting Them

One of the biggest myths surrounding relationships is the idea that certain people somehow attract emotionally unavailable partners.

I don’t believe that’s usually what’s happening.

Emotionally unavailable people exist everywhere.

Emotionally available people exist everywhere too.

The difference isn’t who notices you.

The difference is often who feels familiar enough for you to build a relationship with.

That distinction changes everything.

Because if we’re simply unlucky…

there’s very little we can do.

If our nervous system is repeatedly recognising familiar emotional patterns…

then change becomes possible.

The Part Nobody Likes Hearing

This is usually the point where therapy becomes uncomfortable.

Because I often tell clients something they’ve never heard before.

“It isn’t that you keep attracting emotionally unavailable people. You’re emotionally unavailable too.”

There’s usually silence.

Not because they’re offended.

Because they’re trying to understand what I mean.

Most people immediately think,

“But I give everything to relationships.”

“I’m always the one trying.”

“I’m the one chasing them.”

“How can I possibly be emotionally unavailable?”

The answer is simple.

Being emotionally available isn’t about how much you love somebody.

It’s about how safe it feels to truly let somebody love you.

Those are two completely different things.

Emotional Availability Isn’t About Loving Someone

Many people love deeply.

Exceptionally deeply.

The problem isn’t their capacity to love.

The problem is their capacity to receive it.

When someone genuinely begins caring for them…

something changes.

The nervous system becomes uncomfortable.

Not because the relationship is unhealthy.

Because genuine intimacy feels unfamiliar.

This is one of the great paradoxes of trauma.

The thing people want most—

love,

connection,

consistency,

emotional safety—

can also become the thing their nervous system fears most.

As we explored in How Childhood Trauma Shapes Adult Relationships (Even When You Think You’re Fine), trauma doesn’t simply change how we remember relationships.

It changes what the nervous system expects from them.

“They’re Going to Leave Me Anyway”

When I ask clients what they genuinely believe about relationships, they rarely say,

“People always leave.”

It’s usually much quieter than that.

Much deeper.

The belief sounds something like:

“Eventually they’ll realise I’m not enough.”

“Eventually they’ll leave.”

“Nobody could really love me forever.”

“Once they really know me, they’ll go.”

These beliefs rarely begin in adulthood.

They’re usually built over years.

Sometimes through neglect.

Sometimes through criticism.

Sometimes through inconsistency.

Sometimes through trauma.

Eventually those experiences become a core belief.

I’m not enough.

I’m not lovable.

Once those beliefs exist, every relationship becomes influenced by them.

Not consciously.

Automatically.

The nervous system begins preparing for abandonment long before abandonment ever arrives.

It’s Safer to Choose Someone Who Will Leave

One of the most difficult concepts for people to understand is this:

Sometimes it actually feels safer to choose somebody who’s emotionally unavailable.

That sounds completely irrational.

Until we understand survival.

Imagine choosing between two partners.

One is emotionally available.

Kind.

Consistent.

Communicates openly.

Shows affection.

Stays.

The other feels unpredictable.

Hot and cold.

Emotionally distant.

Difficult to reach.

Many people assume the healthy relationship would naturally feel safer.

Not always.

If your nervous system has spent years preparing for abandonment…

then unpredictability feels familiar.

Consistency feels unfamiliar.

And unfamiliar often feels unsafe.

In other words:

It’s easier to survive someone leaving when your nervous system expected them to leave all along.

What’s far more frightening…

is someone genuinely loving you.

Because now there’s something valuable to lose.

And that feels terrifying.

This is one of the reasons emotionally available partners can actually create more anxiety than emotionally unavailable ones.

Not because healthy love is dangerous.

Because it’s unfamiliar.

As we explored in Why Trauma Keeps You Stuck in Survival Mode (And How to Finally Feel Safe Again), the nervous system doesn’t automatically seek what’s healthiest.

It seeks what it recognises.

What the Research Tells Us

Research consistently shows that early caregiving experiences influence adult relationship expectations and emotional regulation. Attachment research suggests that repeated experiences of inconsistency or insecurity can shape how people perceive intimacy and respond to closeness throughout adulthood.

Similarly, advances in neuroscience and interpersonal neurobiology demonstrate that trauma affects the autonomic nervous system, influencing threat detection, trust and emotional connection long after the original experiences have passed.

This doesn’t mean your future relationships are predetermined.

It means your nervous system is working from an old blueprint.

The encouraging news is that blueprints can be rewritten.

Through awareness.

Through repetition.

Through new experiences.

Through healing.

“If They Really Loved Me, They’d Stay”

One of the most painful things I hear in therapy is this:

“I just need to know they love me.”

On the surface, that sounds completely reasonable.

We all want reassurance.

The difficulty is that for someone carrying unresolved trauma, reassurance rarely lasts.

Their partner says,

“I love you.”

The nervous system settles.

For a while.

Then a few days later…

a delayed text.

A change in tone.

A cancelled plan.

A difficult day at work.

Suddenly, the old question returns.

“Do they still love me?”

The reassurance wasn’t false.

It simply couldn’t reach the belief underneath it.

The Core Belief Never Changed

One thing I’ve noticed throughout my clinical work is that most people focus on the behaviour.

The arguments.

The withdrawal.

The overthinking.

The jealousy.

The testing.

I tend to focus somewhere else.

The belief driving the behaviour.

Because underneath almost every repetitive relationship pattern, I hear the same three beliefs:

I’m not enough.

I’m not good enough.

I’m unlovable.

If those beliefs remain untouched, every healthy relationship eventually gets filtered through them.

A loving partner doesn’t remove those beliefs.

A healthy relationship doesn’t erase them.

Winning someone back doesn’t heal them.

Instead, the nervous system starts looking for evidence that confirms what it already believes.

Psychologists refer to this as confirmation bias—our tendency to notice, interpret and remember information that supports existing beliefs while discounting evidence that contradicts them. In relationships, this can mean overlooking months of consistency while becoming intensely focused on one perceived sign of rejection.

The Relationship Starts Being Tested

This is where people often misunderstand what happens next.

They assume the person is manipulative.

Controlling.

Difficult.

I rarely see that.

I usually see fear.

The testing isn’t designed to hurt another person.

It’s designed to answer one question.

“If you really knew me, would you still stay?”

Unfortunately, that question can never be answered permanently.

So another test appears.

Then another.

And another.

The Test Becomes Bigger

This is something I’ve observed repeatedly over the years.

The first tests are often subtle.

Pulling away emotionally.

Waiting longer to reply.

Becoming quieter.

Seeking reassurance.

Watching how their partner responds.

When the partner responds with patience…

something interesting happens.

The nervous system calms.

Temporarily.

There’s relief.

“They stayed.”

“Maybe they do love me.”

For a short period of time, everything feels safe again.

Until it doesn’t.

Because the underlying belief hasn’t changed.

The nervous system begins asking the same question once more.

This time, the test becomes a little bigger.

Perhaps an unnecessary argument.

Perhaps withdrawing completely.

Perhaps accusing their partner of not caring.

Perhaps creating emotional distance to see whether the other person notices.

Again, the partner reassures them.

Again, the nervous system settles.

Briefly.

Then the cycle starts again.

Each test becomes larger than the last.

Not because the person enjoys creating chaos.

Because the reassurance never reaches the original wound.

The Relationship Isn’t Really Being Tested

This is one of the biggest shifts I try to help clients understand.

They’re not actually testing their partner.

They’re testing themselves.

Or more accurately…

they’re testing their deepest belief.

“Am I lovable?”

Every test is really asking:

“Will you still choose me?”

“Will you still stay?”

“Will you still love me after this?”

The tragedy is that no partner can answer that question permanently.

Because it isn’t really about the partner.

It’s about a belief that was formed long before this relationship ever existed.

The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

Eventually something happens.

The partner becomes exhausted.

Not because they didn’t love them.

Because no relationship can survive endless testing forever.

Arguments increase.

Distance grows.

Communication breaks down.

Eventually, one person leaves.

When that happens…

the nervous system quietly whispers,

“See? I knew they would.”

Notice what has happened.

The breakup isn’t experienced as one relationship ending.

It’s experienced as confirmation that the original belief was correct.

I’m not enough.

I’m unlovable.

Nobody stays.

The relationship has become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Not because the belief was true.

Because the belief quietly shaped the behaviour that helped create the outcome it feared most.

This isn’t about blame.

It’s about awareness.

Awareness allows us to step out of patterns that previously felt automatic.

Why Emotionally Unavailable People Feel So Intoxicating

People often ask me why they feel such intense chemistry with emotionally unavailable partners.

The answer isn’t that emotional unavailability is attractive.

It’s that unpredictability activates an already familiar nervous system.

One day they’re affectionate.

The next they’re distant.

One day they seem committed.

The next they’re impossible to reach.

This unpredictability creates intermittent reinforcement—a pattern of inconsistent reward that research has shown can strengthen attachment and make behaviours more persistent. In relationships, this inconsistency can make someone feel even more compelled to seek closeness, despite the distress it causes.

Many people describe this as chemistry.

I often wonder whether it’s recognition.

Recognition of a relationship dynamic the nervous system has experienced before.

That doesn’t mean emotionally unavailable people cause trauma.

It means unresolved trauma can make emotional inconsistency feel strangely familiar.

As we explored in Why Trauma Keeps You Stuck in Survival Mode (And How to Finally Feel Safe Again), the nervous system isn’t primarily asking,

“Is this healthy?”

It’s asking,

“Have I survived this before?”

That is a very different question.

The Goal Isn’t to Find Better People

People often leave therapy saying,

“I just need to choose better partners.”

That’s certainly part of it.

But I don’t think it’s the whole answer.

If your nervous system still experiences healthy love as unsafe…

you’ll eventually struggle to stay with emotionally available people too.

Healing isn’t only about recognising unhealthy relationships.

It’s about becoming emotionally available yourself.

Because until that happens, genuine intimacy can continue feeling more frightening than emotional distance.

And that’s where the real work begins.

Why Healthy Relationships Can Feel Uncomfortable

One of the biggest surprises people experience during recovery is this:

The healthier the relationship becomes…

the more uncomfortable they sometimes feel.

That sounds completely backwards.

Shouldn’t healthy love feel peaceful?

Eventually, yes.

Initially, not always.

This is something I spend a lot of time explaining to clients because many interpret that discomfort as evidence they’re with the wrong person.

I don’t.

I often see something very different.

I see a nervous system experiencing something unfamiliar.

Calm Isn’t Boring

One of the biggest misconceptions in relationships is that people become bored with healthy partners.

I don’t think boredom is usually the issue.

Calm feels unfamiliar.

There’s a profound difference.

For years, your nervous system may have associated love with:

  • uncertainty
  • inconsistency
  • emotional highs and lows
  • chasing
  • proving yourself
  • waiting
  • hoping
  • surviving

Then suddenly someone arrives who communicates consistently.

Shows affection.

Keeps their promises.

Replies when they say they will.

Doesn’t play games.

Doesn’t disappear.

Doesn’t create drama.

Many people describe this as…

“There’s no spark.”

I often wonder whether the spark they’re missing isn’t chemistry at all.

Perhaps it’s anxiety.

Because anxiety has been mistaken for intimacy for so long.

As we explored in How Childhood Trauma Shapes Adult Relationships (Even When You Think You’re Fine), the nervous system doesn’t naturally seek what’s healthiest.

It seeks what’s familiar.

You’re Waiting for Something to Go Wrong

One of the most exhausting aspects of unresolved trauma is that people often struggle to enjoy good relationships.

Not because the relationship is unhealthy.

Because they’re waiting.

Waiting for the text message that never comes.

Waiting for affection to disappear.

Waiting for criticism.

Waiting for rejection.

Waiting for abandonment.

Many clients tell me,

“Everything is going well, but I can’t stop thinking something bad is about to happen.”

That’s survival mode.

The relationship isn’t the problem.

The anticipation is.

When you’ve spent years expecting relationships to end, your nervous system doesn’t suddenly stop making predictions simply because this partner is different.

It needs repeated evidence.

Repeated safety.

Repeated consistency.

Only then does it slowly begin changing its expectations.

Hypervigilance Becomes Exhausting

Trauma teaches people to observe everything.

Facial expressions.

Tone of voice.

Text messages.

Body language.

Changes in routine.

Small differences in behaviour.

Hypervigilance is an extraordinary survival skill.

Until survival is no longer necessary.

Then it becomes exhausting.

One delayed reply can occupy someone’s thoughts for hours.

One tired expression becomes,

“Are they angry with me?”

One cancelled dinner becomes,

“They’re losing interest.”

Meanwhile, their partner may simply be tired after work.

Busy.

Distracted.

Human.

The nervous system isn’t responding to today’s reality.

It’s responding to yesterday’s blueprint.

Why Awareness Changes Everything

People often ask me,

“How do I stop doing this?”

My answer usually surprises them.

I don’t ask them to stop.

I ask them to notice.

Because you cannot change something you don’t recognise.

One of the biggest misconceptions about therapy is that people suddenly stop sabotaging relationships.

That’s rarely what I see.

Recovery is usually much quieter than that.

It begins with awareness.

Not perfection.

Not confidence.

Awareness.

The Three Stages of Healing

Over the years I’ve noticed a pattern that appears again and again.

Healing doesn’t usually happen all at once.

It develops through three distinct stages of awareness.

Stage One — Awareness After the Event

This is where most people begin.

The relationship argument has already happened.

The testing has already happened.

The withdrawal has already happened.

Only afterwards do they reflect and think,

“Why did I do that?”

“I’ve done this before.”

“This feels familiar.”

For the first time, they begin recognising the pattern.

Nothing has changed yet.

Except awareness.

That awareness is the beginning of recovery.

Stage Two — Awareness During the Event

The next stage is incredibly important.

The behaviour has started.

They’re beginning to withdraw.

They’re beginning to test.

They’re becoming suspicious.

Then something happens.

They catch themselves.

Almost in real time.

“I’m doing it again.”

For perhaps the first time, they pause.

Not always.

But sometimes.

That pause creates something trauma has rarely allowed before.

Choice.

The behaviour may still happen.

The argument may still continue.

But the person is no longer completely unconscious of what’s happening.

The nervous system has begun observing itself.

That is a profound shift.

Stage Three — Awareness Before the Event

This is the stage where meaningful transformation often becomes visible.

The situation hasn’t even happened yet.

Yet something feels familiar.

They notice the urge.

The urge to test.

The urge to withdraw.

The urge to create distance.

The urge to start an argument.

The urge to seek reassurance.

Only now…

they see it before acting.

Instead of automatically following the old pathway, they’re able to pause and ask themselves,

“Is this my partner…

or is this my old story?”

That single question changes everything.

Because they’re no longer reacting from survival.

They’re responding from awareness.

This is where neuroplasticity becomes visible in everyday life.

As we explored in What Is Neuroplasticity? How Your Brain Learns New Patterns, repeated awareness followed by different choices gradually strengthens entirely new neural pathways.

Not overnight.

Not perfectly.

But consistently.

Healing Isn’t About Never Testing Again

One of the biggest mistakes people make is believing recovery means they’ll never struggle again.

I don’t think that’s realistic.

In my experience, the testing doesn’t suddenly disappear.

The trust simply lasts a little longer.

The pauses become longer.

The awareness becomes quicker.

The recovery becomes faster.

Eventually, people stop identifying with the old pattern.

Instead of saying,

“This is who I am.”

They begin saying,

“This is something I used to do when I didn’t feel safe.”

That difference is enormous.

Because identity keeps people trapped.

Awareness creates freedom.

Becoming Emotionally Available

Perhaps the greatest irony of all is this.

People spend years trying to find emotionally available partners.

The deeper healing often begins when they become emotionally available themselves.

When they can stay present instead of withdrawing.

Receive love instead of questioning it.

Accept reassurance instead of needing endless proof.

Tolerate uncertainty without immediately assuming rejection.

That doesn’t happen because somebody finally says the right words.

It happens because the nervous system slowly begins believing a new story.

One built on safety rather than survival.

You’re Not Broken. You’re Repeating a Pattern.

If there’s one thing I hope you take away from this article, it’s this:

You are not broken.

You’re not destined to repeat the same relationship forever.

You’re not “too much.”

You’re not impossible to love.

You’re not beyond help.

What you’re experiencing is a pattern.

A pattern that made perfect sense when it first developed.

Like every survival strategy we’ve explored throughout this Trauma Recovery series, it wasn’t created because something was wrong with you.

It was created because something happened to you.

At some point in your life, your nervous system reached a conclusion.

“Getting close isn’t safe.”

“People leave.”

“I have to protect myself.”

“If I don’t leave first, they’ll leave me.”

Those weren’t personality traits.

They were survival strategies.

The difficulty is that what once protected you may now be preventing the very thing you long for most.

Real intimacy.

The Courage to Stay

People often assume courage in relationships means loving somebody.

I don’t.

I think the greatest courage is staying emotionally present when every part of your nervous system wants to run.

It’s allowing yourself to be seen.

Allowing somebody to know you.

Allowing somebody to disappoint you without deciding everybody will.

Allowing somebody to love you without constantly asking them to prove it.

That isn’t weakness.

That’s vulnerability.

And vulnerability is probably one of the bravest things any trauma survivor will ever learn.

Love Doesn’t Heal Trauma

This is another difficult truth.

People often hope that meeting “the right person” will finally make everything feel safe.

I’ve never seen it work that way.

Healthy relationships absolutely support healing.

They’re incredibly important.

But they don’t replace healing.

Because no partner—no matter how patient, kind or emotionally available—can heal a belief that was created long before they entered your life.

They can support you.

Walk beside you.

Love you.

Reassure you.

But eventually, your nervous system has to begin believing a different story for itself.

That’s where therapy becomes so valuable.

Not because the therapist fixes you.

Because therapy creates a safe relationship in which your nervous system can slowly experience something different.

Consistency.

Acceptance.

Curiosity instead of criticism.

Over time, those experiences begin changing what feels familiar.

When You Stop Looking for Proof

One of the most beautiful changes I see in therapy is this:

People stop looking for evidence that they’re going to be abandoned.

Instead…

they begin noticing evidence that they’re safe.

That doesn’t happen overnight.

Initially, they still become anxious.

Still overthink.

Still feel the urge to test.

The difference is that they no longer automatically believe every fear their nervous system presents.

They become curious.

“Is this actually happening?”

“Or is this an old prediction?”

That question alone has transformed countless therapy sessions.

Because it creates distance between the person…

and the pattern.

Once there’s distance…

there’s choice.

The Relationship You Build With Yourself

Throughout this article we’ve talked about romantic relationships.

But perhaps the most important relationship is the one you have with yourself.

Because if every mistake confirms you’re unlovable…

every disagreement confirms you’re not enough…

every setback confirms you’re destined to be abandoned…

then no amount of reassurance from another person will ever feel sufficient.

Healing begins internally.

It begins with speaking to yourself differently.

Understanding your nervous system instead of judging it.

Showing yourself the same compassion you so freely offer other people.

As we explored in What Is Emotional Regulation? Why It Matters More Than Controlling Your Emotions, regulation isn’t about controlling yourself.

It’s about creating enough internal safety that your nervous system no longer needs to stay on guard.

That applies to relationships too.

The safer you become with yourself…

the safer healthy relationships begin to feel.

A Message From Me to You

If you’ve recognised yourself throughout this article…

If you’ve seen relationship after relationship following the same painful pattern…

If you’ve spent years believing you’re simply choosing the wrong people…

I want you to know something.

You’re not alone.

I’ve sat with countless people who have told me exactly the same story.

Different countries.

Different ages.

Different cultures.

The pattern is remarkably similar.

The encouraging part is this:

Patterns can change.

You weren’t born believing you were unlovable.

You learned it.

Usually through experiences that taught your nervous system to protect itself.

If something has been learned…

it can also be unlearned.

Not through willpower.

Not through finding the “perfect” partner.

But through awareness.

Through repeated experiences of safety.

Through compassionate, trauma-informed support.

So if you’re reading this and quietly thinking,

“This is me…”

Please know this.

There is nothing inherently wrong with you.

There is a pattern.

Patterns can change.

With the right support, you can change too.

And you don’t have to do it alone.

Frequently Asked Questions

Why do I keep attracting emotionally unavailable people?

In many cases, it isn’t about attracting them. It’s about your nervous system recognising emotional patterns that feel familiar. If inconsistency or emotional distance was part of your early experiences, those dynamics may feel more comfortable than healthy intimacy until healing begins.

Can childhood trauma affect who I’m attracted to?

Research suggests that early relational experiences influence attachment, emotional regulation and expectations of intimacy. While trauma doesn’t determine your future relationships, it can shape what initially feels familiar or emotionally safe. Attached explores attachment patterns for a general audience, while research on attachment and developmental trauma provides broader clinical context.

Why do I sabotage healthy relationships?

For many people, sabotage isn’t about wanting the relationship to fail. It’s an unconscious attempt to protect yourself from anticipated abandonment or rejection. The behaviour often reflects old survival strategies rather than present-day reality.

Can emotionally unavailable people change?

Yes—if they recognise the pattern and are willing to engage in genuine self-reflection and therapeutic work. Emotional availability isn’t a fixed personality trait; it’s influenced by emotional awareness, safety and the ability to tolerate vulnerability.

How long does it take to stop repeating relationship patterns?

There isn’t a universal timeline. Recovery usually happens gradually through increased awareness, healthier relationships, psychotherapy and repeated experiences that teach the nervous system that intimacy can be safe.

Key Takeaways

  • You’re probably not “attracting” emotionally unavailable people as much as recognising what feels familiar.
  • Many people who pursue emotionally unavailable partners are emotionally unavailable themselves—not because they don’t love deeply, but because genuine intimacy feels unsafe.
  • Relationship testing is usually an attempt to disprove the belief “I’m unlovable.”
  • Reassurance brings temporary relief but doesn’t change deeply held core beliefs.
  • The cycle becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy until awareness interrupts it.
  • Healing follows three stages:
    1. Awareness after the behaviour.
    2. Awareness during the behaviour.
    3. Awareness before the behaviour.
  • The goal isn’t to find the perfect partner. The goal is to become emotionally available yourself.

Article Summary

Many people believe they repeatedly attract emotionally unavailable partners through bad luck or poor judgement. In reality, trauma often shapes what the nervous system recognises as familiar and safe. Early experiences can create deep beliefs such as “I’m not enough” or “I’m unlovable,” leading to relationship testing, emotional withdrawal and self-sabotage.

The encouraging news is that these are learned patterns, not permanent personality traits. Through awareness, trauma-informed psychotherapy and repeated experiences of emotional safety, the nervous system can gradually develop new expectations about love, trust and intimacy.

Healing isn’t about becoming someone different.

It’s about no longer needing survival strategies in places where love is trying to exist.

External Resources

For readers who want to explore the science further:

About the Author

Matt Little, M.A., Dip Couns, MBACP, AP APM, ICAP I, PVI Certified is a psychotherapist, addiction specialist, and Clinical Director of Pesona Jiwa in Bali, Indonesia.

With more than 15 years of experience in counselling, psychotherapy, addiction treatment, trauma recovery, and nervous system regulation, Matt specialises in helping individuals experiencing burnout, chronic stress, addiction, emotional numbness, anxiety, trauma, and nervous system dysregulation.

He holds a Master’s Degree with Distinction in Counselling & Psychotherapy Practice, is a registered member of the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy (MBACP), an International Certified Addiction Professional (ICAP I), an Advanced Practitioner Member of Addiction Professionals (AP APM), and a Polyvagal-Informed Practitioner (PVI Certified) through the Polyvagal Institute under the work of Dr Stephen Porges.

His work integrates evidence-based psychotherapy with contemporary understandings of trauma, attachment, addiction recovery, behavioural change, and autonomic nervous system functioning. Through his clinical work and writing, Matt aims to make complex psychological and nervous system concepts accessible, practical, and clinically accurate.

Learn more about Matt Little and his clinical approach.

Brainz Magazine Executive Contributor

Elephant Journal

 

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