A friend of mine, who lives in an apartment and has a busy, demanding life, recently got a new dog. Border collie/staffy cross. Within weeks she was frayed at the edges. The dog was naughty and needing. Tearing up the furniture. Clawing at the door frames. Howling when left alone. Growling at other dogs in the park. As frustrating as this was for her, it wasn't hard to understand, once you stepped back. A working dog, bred over generations for stimulation and purpose and space, dropped into eleven square metres and a ten-hour workday. The dog wasn't broken. The fit was.

For a long time, I treated emotional needs as a kind of personal weakness. I admired self-sufficiency. Independence. Competence. I wanted to be the person who needed very little from anyone. Many of us do. Sometimes this develops because our needs were inconsistently met growing up. Attachment theory suggests that when caregivers are unavailable, unpredictable, or overwhelmed, children often adapt by minimising their needs in order to preserve connection. We learn that needing is risky. So we become fiercely independent adults who pride ourselves on "having no expectations."