We tend to think of inferiority and superiority as opposites. One looks insecure, the other arrogant. While one collapses into shame, the other puffs up with pride. But the more I sit with these patterns, both in myself and in others, the more I see they often come from the same place.
Alfred Adler, an early depth psychologist, spoke of this over a century ago. He believed all human behaviour was shaped by a need to overcome inferiority. As children, we begin life small and powerless; vulnerable to the world around us, dependent on the care and presence of others.
That early sense of inadequacy lives in the body. In response, we each develop strategies to feel safe, strong and worthy.
Sometimes, that strategy turns inward.
We collapse. We become overly self critical, overly responsible.
Stuck in the loop of “I’m not enough.”
Other times, it turns outward.
We overcompensate. We strive, perform, compete.
Needing to feel better than others just to feel okay.
But in both cases, it’s the same wound. The same fear, wearing a different mask.
And this is where it starts to overlap with something more modern: attachment theory.
What Is Attachment?
Attachment theory emerged from the work of John Bowlby and Mary Ainsworth in the 1970s. It describes how our early relationships, especially with our primary caregivers, shape our sense of safety, connection and self worth.
One of the most influential studies in this field was Ainsworth’s ‘Strange Situation‘ where she observed 12 to 18 month old infants and their mothers in a lab setting.
The experiment involved a sequence of separations and reunions, during which a stranger might also enter the room. Researchers closely watched how the infants responded to their caregiver leaving and returning, revealing distinct patterns of attachment that would go on to form the foundation of the theory.
As babies we rely entirely on caregivers to meet our needs; not just physical ones, but emotional ones too. When those needs are consistently met with warmth, responsiveness and care, we internalise a sense of safety. We feel lovable, and we learn that others can be trusted.
But when those needs are met inconsistently, or not at all, we adapt. The nervous system forms strategies to protect us from overwhelm, abandonment or rejection. These early adaptations become our attachment styles.
Attachment is not just about relationships with others, it’s about how we relate to ourselves, our emotions and our sense of belonging in the world.
Anxious Attachment and Inferiority
Those with anxious attachment often echo the traits of an inferiority complex. There’s a constant seeking, approval, reassurance, love. Their self worth becomes tethered to how others respond to them. If someone pulls away, it doesn’t just feel like distance, it feels like a threat to their identity.
“I must be doing something wrong. I must not be lovable.”
These patterns usually come from caregivers who were inconsistent; loving one moment, withdrawn the next. So the child becomes hyper attuned, always scanning for cues, always wondering what version of love will show up. They grow up performing for love, adapting themselves to earn closeness.
They learn: If I try hard enough, I’ll be chosen. If I shape shift enough, I’ll be safe.
Avoidant Attachment and Superiority
Those with avoidant attachment often mirror traits of a superiority complex. They come across as independent, composed, self sufficient. But that distance often masks something deeper; an embedded belief that closeness is dangerous.
“If I need you, I’ll get hurt. If I depend on you, I’ll be disappointed.”
These patterns usually come from caregivers who were emotionally unavailable, cold, or dismissive. So the child learns to rely only on themselves. They stop reaching out and expecting care. Instead of chasing love, they shut it out before it can wound them.
They grow up building walls rather than bridges; valuing control over connection, solitude over vulnerability.
They learn: If I stay distant, I’ll stay safe. If I stay strong, I won’t be broken.
It’s not that they think they’re better than others; it’s that being close feels unsafe. So standing above others becomes a shield to protect the vulnerability of being seen.
Disorganised Attachment and Internal Chaos
Disorganised attachment carries the charge of both anxious and avoidant styles. There’s a constant push pull; reaching out and then withdrawing, craving closeness but fearing it at the same time. The nervous system stays alert caught in a loop that never settles. It is also an indicator of a more severe form of trauma compared to anxious and avoidant attachment.
This often stems from environments where the caregiver was both a source of comfort and fear. Abuse, neglect or emotional chaos teach the child one thing: You’re not safe anywhere – not even with the ones who say they love you.
So they learn: I can’t trust love. I can’t trust myself. I’ll be abandoned or attacked either way.
And this internal chaos often produces a fragile flip between inferiority and superiority. One moment, they feel broken and unworthy; too much, too messy, too hard to love. The next, they might inflate, believing they’re too deep, too sensitive, too awake for others to meet.
These shifts aren’t arrogance or collapse, but attempts to find control in a system that never learned safety.
Secure Attachment and the Capacity to Repair
Secure attachment isn’t about being flawless or emotionally invincible. It’s about feeling fundamentally safe in connection. These individuals can express their needs without guilt, set boundaries without fear, and receive love without suspicion.
Securely attached people usually had caregivers who were consistent, warm and responsive. So they internalised a stable sense of self and a trust in others. They know how to self soothe and co-regulate. They don’t panic when intimacy deepens or withdraw when things get hard.
They learn: I am worthy of love. I can ask for what I need. I can be close without losing myself.
This doesn’t mean life is smooth. But when conflict happens, they know how to repair. They can stay in the discomfort without shutting down or lashing out. Even if we didn’t grow up with secure attachment, it’s something we can build through therapy, safe relationship and the slow, steady work of re-parenting our nervous system.
The Armour That Keeps Us Apart
In therapy, these attachment styles show up in ways that are easy to miss if you only look at the surface.
- It’s the high achiever who always gets things right, but never feels settled.
- The caretaker who bends over backwards, hoping they’ll finally be loved back.
- The client who can articulate emotions but doesn’t feel safe to actually feel them.
- The friend who offers everyone support, but never lets anyone see them fall apart.
Maybe you see yourself in one of these people. And to be clear, none of them a broken; all of their nervous systems are stuck in defence mode.
They were shaped through rupture of relationship; subtle or severe. Moments of reaching and not being met. Being told you were too much, or not enough. Of learning to hide certain parts just to stay connected.
For some, this wounding creates a deep sense of inferiority “I must try harder, be better, earn my place.” For others, it hardens into superiority “I don’t need anyone, I’m fine on my own.”
Both are armour. Each becomes a strategy for surviving relationship.
One clings to closeness, the other keeps it at arm’s length.
What’s in the middle isn’t perfection. It’s presence.
Healing From Connection
Healing isn’t about flipping the pattern.
It’s not about being less anxious or more open.
Nor is it about collapsing the shield, or reinforcing it.
It’s about being met.
When the part that’s always earning love is finally allowed to rest.
When the part scanning for danger begins to soften in the presence of real safety.
When the mask can finally come off. Not because it was wrong, but because it’s no longer needed.
This is where the nervous system begins to soften.
Not from trying, but from being held in the way it always needed.
We don’t need to perform our way out of these patterns or prove anything. We just need the kind of connection that lets the body trust again. Because at the core of all attachment is the question:
“Am I safe enough to be seen?”
And real nervous system healing begins when the answer becomes yes.
