What Trauma Teaches Us About Love.

Many women go through three abusive relationships before they break the cycle. Not one. Not two. Three.

It sounds shocking. But if you've lived it, you know why.

If you haven’t, it’s easy to ask:

“Why didn’t she just leave?”

“How could she fall for it again?”

“Surely she’d recognise the red flags next time?”

But here’s the thing. This isn’t about intelligence, strength, or common sense. It’s about trauma, nervous system conditioning, and survival patterns you didn’t choose, but learned to live with.

If you grew up in a home where you had to stay quiet to stay safe, where you were praised for being “good,” not for having needs, you didn’t just survive. You adapted.

Your nervous system was trained to scan for danger. To read tone shifts. To stay one step ahead. You didn’t learn to trust calm. You learned to brace for chaos.

Maybe it wasn’t called abuse back then. Maybe it was “strict parenting” or “just the way things were.” But your body remembered. Cortisol became your compass.

So later, when someone:

- Love-bombs you and then withdraws

- Hurts you, then cries and begs

- Controls you “for your own good”

…it doesn’t feel like danger. It feels familiar. Even safe.

That’s trauma bonding. And it’s one of the reasons why so many women return to abusive relationships.

After years of managing crisis, real safety can feel wrong.

Someone shows up on time, respects your space, doesn’t shout, doesn’t play games, and your brain starts screaming, “Where’s the catch?”

You overthink their tone. You flinch when nothing happens. You feel bored, anxious, or numb in the calm. Because your nervous system isn’t used to peace. It’s wired for survival.

This is a trauma response, not a personality flaw.

I once told a therapist:

“I’ve done fourteen years with one abuser, eight with another, and two with someone else. What’s wrong with me?”

The therapist didn’t flinch. She said:

“Nothing. You’re learning. The gaps are getting smaller. That’s progress.”

That moment changed everything. Because healing isn’t a single choice. It’s a process of unlearning.

Unlearning:

- That love has to hurt

- That your needs are “too much”

- That being chosen means being controlled

- That mayhem equals connection

Every time you notice the pattern a little sooner, you’re not failing. You’re healing.

There’s no one-size-fits-all solution. But here’s what moved the needle for me, and for many others:

- Trauma-informed therapy. It gave language to what once felt like “just me being dramatic.”

- Education. Understanding the cycle of abuse helped remove shame.

- Community. Realising “It wasn’t just me” brought huge relief.

- Gentle people. Who didn’t try to fix, but showed love without conditions.

Even now, in a healthy relationship, I sometimes ask:

“Are you sure I’m not too much?”

And my partner doesn’t roll his eyes. He reminds me:

“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”

That’s the rewiring. That’s the work.

Let’s be clear.

You’re not stupid.

You’re not broken.

You weren’t “asking for it.”

You were doing your best with the map you were given. And now, maybe, you’re trying to draw a new one.

It starts with noticing:

- What feels familiar but harmful

- What feels safe but scary

- What thoughts aren’t actually yours

Then, little by little, choosing something different. Not perfect. Just different.

No one dreams of returning to abuse. But many of us do.

Not because we’re weak. But because we were trained to survive pain and call it love.

And if that’s you... you’re not too far gone.

You're learning.

You're rewiring.

And that matters more than you know.

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