When the Hug Hurts: Attachment Trauma Unveiled in Unknown Number
Spoiler Alert: This post contains spoilers for Netflix’s Unknown Number: The High School Catfish. If you haven’t watched it yet, proceed with gentle caution—or come back when you're ready to go deep.
I nearly lost it. When the officer revealed to 13-year-old Lauryn Licari that her own mother was behind the bullying/harassing texts, and Kendra immediately jumped up to hug her. I couldn’t help but cringe. That moment? That was pure fearful‑avoidant attachment formation in action. It’s where love and threat collide so powerfully, you’re born stuck in between.
A quick reset: Unknown Number: The High School Catfish unfolds the nightmare of Lauryn and her boyfriend enduring 22 months (yes, 660 agonizing days) of toxic messages from an anonymous number.
Let’s pause on that.
Twenty-two months in adolescent years? That’s forever. That’s a hundred outfit changes. Six middle school crushes. At least four friend group shifts and two “you’re dead to me” temporary breakups. It’s nearly two full school years of your nervous system being hijacked by fear, confusion, and betrayal. And for a teen, where your longest relationship might’ve lasted two weeks? That kind of emotional terror becomes your emotional blueprint.
We’re not talking about garden-variety growing pains. We’re talking about chronic attachment trauma.
Why that cringe-inducing hug matters
In that moment, safety and danger crash together. The person meant to protect is also the one inflicting harm. That’s how fearful‑avoidant patterns begin: you yearn for closeness, but brace for betrayal. It’s not that Lauryn must develop that style; But who among us wouldn’t be vulnerable given what happened?
But let’s not forget, this wasn’t just emotional chaos. Lauryn was still a student. A teenager navigating friend drama, changing hormones, school projects, and exams... all while living a double life she didn’t sign up for.
The stress of being lied to, gaslit, and isolated for 22 months doesn’t just vanish when the truth comes out. It spills into everything. Grades. Sleep. Self-worth. Her ability to connect with peers who didn’t go through this kind of trauma.
When you’ve spent that long emotionally surviving, it changes your nervous system. It alters how you relate to others—and to yourself.
The Boy Who Wasn't
And then… there’s the boyfriend.
While the internet hyper-focused on the “catfish” plotline, let’s not gloss over the emotional fallout Lauryn experienced from her relationship with Elijah. Not only was she manipulated into believing her boyfriend died, but once the truth came out, he distanced himself (emotionally and physically). For someone who spent nearly two years pouring their heart into a relationship that didn’t actually exist as she thought, the end result was twofold: betrayal by the “boyfriend,” and abandonment by the real person behind the screen—her mom.
This compounds the trauma. Romantic relationships are often where attachment wounds come to the surface. And for Lauryn, that breakup didn’t just hurt, it reinforced the belief that intimacy equals pain, trust is a setup, and no one stays. That’s textbook vulnerability for fearful-avoidant attachment patterns to take root.
Studying Criminology. Her Life, Her Calling
Lauryn tells us she wants to study criminology. I literally got goosebumps reading that. It’s ironic, right? But also, heartbreakingly familiar to those of us in the helping world. Oftentimes, when trauma hits too close, we step into roles that make sense of it (even carry other people through it) because our pain gave us deeper capacity.
It’s that gift-and-curse rhythm: your own story fuels your ability to sit with others’ hard stories. Trust me, I see it in so many of my clients, and in myself.
The dad factor—and where hope hides
What gives me hope for Lauryn is her relationship with her dad. We don’t know every detail, but what stands out is the emerging, emotionally attuned connection between them. That relationship can be the buffer; That secure attachment figure who can help mitigate the damage. Trauma doesn’t have to be destiny. Early emotional repair matters.
Of course, it’s complicated, because even though her dad didn’t catfish her, he didn’t protect her (at least not in a way her inner child felt safe). The wound is still there, even if we can’t see it. It’s not blame, just reality.
Lauryn Licari and her parents, Jim and Colleen Licari.
Children of emotionally unsafe parents have superhuman love...
Here’s a truth that’s both beautiful and heartbreaking: kids will hold onto the idea of their parents—even abusive ones, with fierce loyalty. It’s twisted, but not the child. Survival depends on believing in the safe version of someone who was never consistent. That’s not pathology. That’s love. But it’s also why therapy is so critical in helping that inner child come home to safety.
ASM in the mix
This is where Attachment Style Makeover becomes more than a workbook. For Lauryn or anyone in her circumstances, it offers tools like:
Attachment Histories worksheet: What did those 660 days make you think about love and trust?
Secure corrective experience visualization: Imagine being soothed and not just taught the truth, but held in it.
Write that letter (internal editor): “Dear thirteen-year-old me, I see you. And you didn’t deserve what happened.”
Final Thoughts
Lauryn’s story is gut-wrenching, but there’s hope here too; Especially if she builds more safe places to rest inside herself.
Should I do a Part Two, digging into Kendra’s attachment dynamics from this lens?
Let me know which part of Unknown Number stuck with you most.
Ready to Unpack Your Own Story?
If Unknown Number (or this breakdown) stirred something in you—maybe a memory, a pattern, or a truth you’ve been avoiding—it might be time to explore it in a safe, supportive space.
I specialize in attachment trauma, especially for high-achieving women and caregivers navigating complex family dynamics. Together, we can make sense of the past so it doesn’t dictate your future.
Book a consultation when you’re ready. Your healing doesn’t have to wait.
