In the depths of every human heart lies a profound longing for connection—a yearning to be seen, known, and loved for who we truly are. Yet paradoxically, many of us spend our lives avoiding the very vulnerability that makes such connection possible. Together, in today’s message, let’s find out if we are all suffering from intimacy anorexia.

Many of us first became acquainted with the term “anorexia” when singer Karen Carpenter, the lead singer of the Grammy-winning band The Carpenters, tragically died from anorexia nervosa in 1983 at the age of 32.  Anorexia nervosa, is derived from Greek, and it means “without appetite.”  It is a serious and sometimes life-threatening eating disorder.

Psychologists have now borrowed the word anorexia and combined it with the word intimacy to describe another human condition. These two words combined are meant to imply, “without intimacy”. The term intimacy anorexia is described as follows. Intimacy anorexia is characterized by a deliberate avoidance of intimacy in a committed relationship. This avoidance is not due to a lack of desire but rather due to fear, insecurity, or unresolved emotional issues that create a barrier to connecting deeply with another person.

Intimacy anorexia as described by psychologists is a condition where individuals resist emotional closeness and prefer to remain guarded, isolated, or self-contained. While intimacy anorexia is often discussed in the context of romantic relationships, its metaphorical echoes ripple through all of humanity’s struggles with authenticity, openness, and love.

While psychologists use this term specifically to describe the avoidance of intimacy between a husband and wife or a committed couple, I am putting forth a new metaphorical paradigm. I am suggesting that all of us, to some extent, suffer from intimacy anorexia. Allow me to explain.

Looking at this from a Christian and psychological perspective, intimacy anorexia perhaps sheds light on a universal human condition: our reluctance to fully open our hearts, even to God, let alone to others. It reflects our tendency to hide behind masks of competence, strength, or perfection, fearing that our true selves might be unworthy of love.

Psychologists suggest that intimacy anorexia often stems from wounds inflicted by past relationships, shame, or fear of rejection. Early experiences of betrayal, neglect, or criticism can lead us to erect walls around our hearts as a form of self-protection. Over time, these walls can become prisons, trapping us in loneliness and cutting us off from the love and support we desperately need.

From a Christian perspective there is an even deeper cause: the wound of original sin. When Adam and Eve sinned, their immediate reaction was to hide—from God, from each other, and even from themselves. This instinct to hide is echoed in every human heart. We cover our vulnerabilities with fig leaves, whether they take the form of achievements, material possessions, or emotional detachment. Yet, the reality is we were created for communion, not isolation.

Modern psychology affirms the essential human need for connection. Studies consistently show that open, honest relationships are crucial for mental and emotional well-being. It’s been said that “vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity.” Without vulnerability, true intimacy is impossible.

Similarly, Christian spirituality calls us to radical honesty with ourselves, others, and God. By taking off our masks we expose our wounds. The Divine Physician offers us His mercy and love, and through our Christian friends God offers us healing. Therefore, this act of vulnerability not only heals our relationship with God but also strengthens our capacity to be open and authentic with others.

To address intimacy anorexia, we must first recognize the false masks we wear. These masks may take many forms: the mask of the “perfect spouse,” the “fearless leader,” or the “unshakable believer.” While these roles may serve a purpose, they can also become barriers to genuine intimacy if we use them to hide our true selves.

The Gospels provide a powerful example in the person of Jesus Christ. Though He was without sin, Jesus embraced vulnerability. He wept at the tomb of Lazarus, showed compassion to the marginalized, and ultimately stretched out His arms on the Cross in the ultimate act of self-giving love. His example teaches us that vulnerability is not weakness but strength.

Healing from intimacy anorexia—whether in its clinical form or its metaphorical sense—requires intentional steps toward openness and trust. Psychologists recommend practices such as mindfulness, therapy, and honest communication to break down the walls of emotional detachment. Christian spirituality adds to this toolkit the grace of the sacraments, prayer, and spiritual direction.

Communities of accountability, whether in the form of small faith-sharing groups or trusted friendships, can also provide a safe space for vulnerability. In such settings, we learn that we are not alone in our struggles and that our honesty can inspire others to lower their own defenses.

In conclusion, intimacy anorexia is not merely a psychological condition but a profound metaphor for humanity’s struggle to love and be loved. The fear of vulnerability is universal, but so too is the hope for healing. By embracing transparency, taking off our masks, and daring to be real, we fulfill our God-given potential for communion. As St. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “At present we see indistinctly, as in a mirror, but then face to face. At present I know partially; then I shall know fully, as I am fully known.”  To be fully known and fully loved is the destiny for which we were created, and it begins with the courage to open our hearts.

Heavenly Father, I realize that I am sometimes reluctant to fully open my heart to you and to others dear to me. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to hide behind a mask fearing that my true self might be unlovable. Grant me the courage to live an honest, transparent, and vulnerable life like Jesus did. Amen!  

AMDG (Ad majorem Dei gloriam, meaning For the Greater Glory of God.)

WELCOME 

I want to thank everyone who attended the Blessed Broken & Scared retreat at the Holy Cross Retreat House in Easton, MA, and everyone who attended the St. Kateri Tekakwitha Cursillo gathering in Plymouth, MA. Everyone was so warm and friendly and you made Mary Beth and me feel welcomed. We are delighted you have joined us here. If you would like to share anything about the retreat or my talk with other readers, please do so in the comment section below.

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Brian Pusateri
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