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Attachment Weaponisation: The Bond Was Never an Accident

Attachment Weaponisation: The Bond Was Never an Accident I never noticed the closeness being built. I just assumed it was love, and assumed what I owed because of it, without either of us ever saying it out loud. Short version: Trauma bonding is usually described as something that happens to you, almost by accident, through unpredictable reward. A 2025 Cambridge study, interviewing eighteen women with sustained attachment to abusive partners, found something sharper underneath that: the closeness itself is often deliberately constructed early on, specifically so it can be exploited later. Researchers call this attachment weaponisation. The unsettling part is that it isn't always obvious while it's happening. It can feel completely organic, right up until you realise how much invisible obligation got built into it along the way. What is attachment weaponisation? A 2025 study led by researchers at the University of Cambridge, published in the journal Violence Aga...
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Saturday Morning SLOUNGE Time

Saturday Morning SLOUNGE Time | Funny Relatable Blog | How to Feel Fucking Amazing

Saturday Morning SLOUNGE Time

When everyone wants something from you — and all you want is to stay in your dressing gown.
Posted · 3 min read

It’s Saturday morning. Not the lazy, coffee-scented, soft-focus kind — the real kind. The kind where you’ve just survived a full week of work, the child has expectations, the dog has expectations, and even the *laundry* has expectations.

“Mum, can we go to the toy shop?”
“Mum, we’re out of dog treats.”
“Mum, I need spot stickers from Boots.”
“Mum, can you hang the washing?”
“Mum, it’s Grandad’s birthday tomorrow.”

And there I am — still in my dressing gown, trying to sip tea and hold onto the last thread of sanity — already planning a route that somehow covers B&Q, Boots, the toy shop, the pet shop, and the meaning of life.

Apparently, I also need to use a Makita drill to put up ten thousand pictures because “it’ll only take five minutes”. Five minutes, my arse. That’s how every DIY horror story starts. “It’ll only take five minutes” — next thing you know, you’re on your third screw and swearing in Latin.

Meanwhile, my dog’s wagging his tail next to the bed, eyes full of hope and betrayal, like I’ve personally offended him by existing in pyjamas. He doesn’t care about raw plugs or laundry. He wants a walk, and he wants it *now*.

And all of it — all of it — relies on one person: me.

But here’s the truth: I don’t want to be productive today. I don’t want to fix shelves or buy birthday cards or do small talk in B&Q. I want to slounge. Yes, slounge. That beautiful hybrid of sloth and lounge. I want to stay in my dressing gown, make another cup of tea, and disappear into the duvet until I feel like a functioning adult again.

Because sometimes “self-care” isn’t yoga or productivity. It’s lying under the covers ignoring the chaos, sipping lukewarm tea, and muttering “holy crap” at the to-do list that’s judging you from the corner.

So today, I’m declaring it: Saturday Slounge Time.
The washing can wait. The walls will survive. The world won’t collapse if I sit here for two hours doing absolutely nothing — except maybe my dog’s patience, but we’ll risk it.

If you’re reading this in your dressing gown, congratulations — you’re doing Saturday right.

Tags: Real Life, Saturday, Parenting, Humour, Self-Care
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