Often
A high score means distance works as a way to recover: when things get closer or more strained, stepping back and sorting it out alone comes easier than talking about it now. It is a reliable strategy — it has worked many times, which is why it stuck — and it is also the hardest one to read from outside: withdrawal looks like cooling off, though from the inside it is a way to stay rather than to leave. The scale does not say you are not attached. It says closeness and autonomy compete in you, and at peak strain the second one wins. One sentence about needing time removes most of the misunderstanding.
Sometimes
A middle score describes closeness with the distance kept. Usually it looks like this: plans and daily business you share readily, while the hardest thing you go through alone first and hand over already digested — not out of distrust, but out of a habit of coping before speaking. Part of your life stays separate, and on its own that is not a symptom. Only the order is worth noticing: if the person close to you hears about a bad week after it has ended, what they lose is not the information but the chance to be there during it. That is where a middle score usually moves — not toward disclosure in general, but toward an earlier moment.
Rarely
A low score is not “little avoidance”. It is a consistent choice of engagement: you ask for help in words rather than hints, you talk about the hard thing while it is still going on, and depending on someone registers as neither a debt nor a trap. That makes a bond durable — what gets named out loud gets repaired far faster. The blind spot here is the boundary. When shared space grows, separate space can disappear without anyone noticing: the pursuits that were only yours run out, and so do the decisions you used to make without consulting. That is worth checking at this end of the scale, not the other one.