Tag Archives: marriage

Why We Chase What Hurts Us?

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This morning, just after I opened my eyes, I did the most dangerous thing a curious mind can do: I checked my phone. There it was — a missed call from my talking buddy and a video she had sent me. The title was Trauma Bond Loop. I didn’t even brush my teeth first. That topic alone was enough to wake my entire nervous system; coffee suddenly felt optional. So of course, I called her immediately. We talked for almost four hours straight, and before you wonder how two adults can talk that long on the phone, let me explain: when you put two people together who are genuinely curious about the brain, relationships and attachment, time simply disappears. Honestly, if I hadn’t had errands to do at home, we would probably still be talking now or at least until our phones overheated and politely asked us to stop. That’s what happens when personal experience meets neuroscience.

Trauma bonds –neurochemical conditioning

Trauma bonds are almost like an epidemic in modern dating. You see them everywhere, especially on dating apps. If I stopped a random single person on the street and asked whether they had ever missed someone who wasn’t good for them, gone back to someone who hurt them, or felt addicted to a connection that made them anxious, most people wouldn’t even need time to think. They would say yes. And no — it’s not because people are dramatic, needy, or incapable of healthy love. It’s because of biology.

A trauma bond isn’t built on love; it’s built on neurochemical conditioning. The loop is surprisingly simple. First, there is emotional pain or stress — rejection, unpredictability, conflict — which raises cortisol and adrenaline. Then comes relief after pain: reassurance, intimacy, sex, or contact, which releases beta-endorphin. Over time, the brain learns through contrast: this person causes pain… and also makes it stop. Beta-endorphin is the body’s own morphine. It doesn’t create love; it creates relief. Gradually, the nervous system becomes attached not to the person themselves, but to the relief that follows pain. That’s why trauma bonds feel intense, obsessive, and nearly impossible to let go of — very similar to withdrawal.

Trauma bonds are often mistaken for love because the emotions are strong, the longing is intense, and the attachment feels consuming. But intensity is not intimacy. Trauma bonds thrive on unpredictability, anxiety, emotional highs and lows, and the constant chasing of reassurance. They keep the nervous system activated, not settled.

Resonance- two nervous systems

This is where resonance comes in — a completely different biological experience. Resonance happens when two nervous systems feel safe with each other, regulate instead of escalate, and settle instead of chase. Neurobiologically, resonance involves oxytocin for bonding and safety, balanced dopamine that creates interest without obsession, lower cortisol levels, and activation of the parasympathetic nervous system — the rest-and-connect mode. Resonance feels like warmth instead of urgency, calm after being together, silence that feels comfortable, and a sense that there is no need to perform, impress, or prove anything. It doesn’t hijack the brain; it stabilizes it.

Is resonance love? Not immediately. Resonance is the ground where love can grow, not love itself. Love requires time, consistency, reliability, repeated safety, and shared reality. Trauma bonds feel fast and overwhelming, while resonance feels slow and unfamiliar — especially if your nervous system is used to chaos. That’s why resonance can feel boring at first, or even uncomfortable.

Many of us choose trauma over resonance because we learned early in life to associate connection with effort, emotional tension, proving our worth, and fear of loss. So when resonance shows up — calm, steady, drama-free — the brain doesn’t always recognize it as love. There’s no adrenaline rush, no withdrawal, no chase. And yet, there is peace.

Hhhmmmm….

If a connection feels intoxicating, destabilizing, and impossible to let go of, pause. Ask not, “Is this love?” but rather, “Is my nervous system seeking relief?” Love doesn’t feel like withdrawal. Love feels like coming home — slowly.

REFERENCES

Trauma bonding & attachment

Herman, J. L. (1992). Trauma and Recovery. Basic Books.

van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score. Viking.

Neurobiology of attachment & bonding

Panksepp, J. (1998). Affective Neuroscience. Oxford University Press.

Carter, C. S. (1998). Neuroendocrine perspectives on social attachment and love. Psychoneuroendocrinology, 23(8).

Oxytocin, dopamine, and bondingFisher, H. (2004). Why We Love: The Nature and Chemistry of Romantic Love. Henry Holt.

Insel, T. R. (2010). The challenge of translation in social neuroscience: A review of oxytocin, vasopressin, and affiliative behavior. Neuron, 65(6).

Stress, relief, and endogenous opioids

Fields, H. L. (2004). State-dependent opioid control of pain. Nature Reviews Neuroscience, 5.

Taylor, S. E. et al. (2000). Biobehavioral responses to stress in females: Tend-and-befriend. Psychological Review, 107(3).

Nervous system regulation

Porges, S. W. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory. Norton.

Siegel, D. J. (2012). The Developing Mind. Guilford Press.

Unconditional

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Yesterday, I had the privilege of spending time with a dear friend and witnessing a love I hadn’t seen in years. We drove together to her home, and as her husband opened the door, he greeted her with a kiss and a warm embrace. He gently took her bag, a simple yet profound gesture that spoke volumes. It wasn’t just an action—it was an unspoken expression of their enduring love. Immediately, I could feel the warmth of their home.

My friend looked serene, like someone who had built a life of stability and affection. There was a quiet confidence about her—a sense of security and belonging. Her home wasn’t just filled with furniture or décor; it radiated a deeper connection, a tangible atmosphere of safety, harmony, and love.

Over dinner, I couldn’t help but observe the way they interacted. Their dynamic was understated yet powerful. A touch on the hand here, a shared glance there—it was clear their love wasn’t just a memory from their youth. It was alive, flourishing, and deeply rooted in their present. They shared stories, supported each other’s words, and carried a harmony that only time and mutual respect could build.

After dinner, my friend excused herself and returned with an old album filled with photographs from their wedding day. She opened it with care, as if holding a precious treasure. The pictures revealed a stunning glimpse into their past—young, radiant, and deeply in love. Their wedding was a grand celebration: 600 guests, a nine-layer cake, and a parade featuring a traditional band.

One of the most meaningful rituals she explained was the symbolic movement of the engagement ring. On the wedding day, the engagement ring is moved to the other hand, marking the transition from engagement to marriage. This gesture, deeply rooted in their traditions, symbolizes the eternal bond of marriage and the unbreakable unity between the couple. It’s a beautiful reminder that love is not just an emotion but a commitment to walk life’s path together.

Looking at those photographs, I realized something extraordinary. The love captured in those images hadn’t faded with time. It was the same love I had just witnessed at dinner—unchanged, enduring, and thriving despite life’s inevitable challenges. My friend pointed to a photo of their vows, her voice soft yet filled with emotion, as she explained the traditions and significance behind their wedding.

For a moment, I felt as if I had been part of their wedding. My friend showed me photos of their family and friends, each picture telling a story of connection and belonging. Their love wasn’t just between them—it extended to their community, their family, and even to those of us lucky enough to witness it.

The Absence of Unconditional Love

On my way home, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had seen. It was a kind of love I had never experienced in my own life. My relationships, though filled with fleeting moments of happiness, had been conditional. They ended with arguments, unmet expectations, or superficial gestures mistaken for connection.

I remembered one relationship where a single disagreement led to a breakup. Another where I gave more than I received, hoping it would one day be enough. Reflecting on my past, I realized that I had never been in a relationship built on unconditional love—the kind of steadfast partnership my friend and her husband shared. Their love endured through sickness, struggles, and the passage of time.

Dr. Erich Fromm, in his book The Art of Loving, describes unconditional love as “an act of will and commitment to nurture, protect, and understand another human being without expectation of reward.” This is the kind of love I witnessed—a love rooted in respect, empathy, and daily actions rather than fleeting emotions or grandiose gestures.

The Depth of Realization

This realization wasn’t easy to confront. It made me reflect deeply on the patterns in my life—how I had romanticized love, overlooked red flags, and stayed in relationships that lacked mutual respect. I had mistaken attention for care, words for action, and fleeting passion for something lasting.

I understood that the absence of unconditional love in my relationships wasn’t entirely about the people I chose. It also stemmed from within me—a lack of understanding of what I deserved and a habit of seeking validation outside of myself.

A New Understanding

The love I witnessed wasn’t perfect, but it was real. It wasn’t about perfection or grand displays. It was about showing up every day, even when it wasn’t easy. My friend and her husband weren’t just partners in love; they were partners in life, and that was something I had never seen so clearly before.

This realization left me with a sense of calm and clarity. I finally understood what was missing in my past and what I needed to build within myself. Unconditional love isn’t just something to receive—it’s something to give, starting with myself.

Seeing their love, I felt both inspired and humbled. It reminded me that love, in its truest form, isn’t about conditions or perfection but about enduring through life’s imperfections. And that realization has become a cornerstone for how I view relationships moving forward.

Final Thoughts

As I sat in the quiet of my home, I thought about how love shapes us—not just the love we receive, but the love we give. In that moment, I realized that understanding unconditional love starts with embracing the imperfections of life, letting go of what no longer serves us, and building something genuine and enduring.

I closed my eyes, holding onto the memory of that day, knowing that love, in its truest form, is something worth striving for—even if it starts within myself.