Tag Archives: relationship

Why We Chase What Hurts Us?

ARTICLES, , , , ,

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.

Filling the Gap

ARTICLES,

This morning, over a quiet breakfast with a colleague, we found ourselves reflecting on the relentless pace of modern life. “We’re always so busy, reaching for something,” she mused. “But for what?” It’s a question that lingered with me, and as I thought about it more, I saw how deeply this question impacts not just our work lives, but also our relationships, our love lives, and our very sense of self.

Across the world, people seem to be caught in an endless race—striving to reach career goals, to acquire more, to live up to an image of success that social media reinforces every day. Life becomes a pursuit of something just out of reach, as though every accomplishment or milestone only leads us to the next. We’re left with a feeling that what we have, and even who we are, is never quite enough. Our lives, it seems, are spent trying to fill a gap we may not even fully understand.

Social media, for better or worse, has fueled this need for “more.” Our feeds overflow with carefully curated images of dream homes, luxury vacations, perfect relationships, and “flawless” lives, creating a constant comparison that chips away at contentment. We start to believe that these things—objects, accomplishments, status—are what we need to feel fulfilled. Yet, in our pursuit of these things, we risk overlooking what we already have and what genuinely brings us happiness.

In many ways, this drive for “more” can be positive, giving people purpose, a sense of accomplishment, and financial security. But when does it shift from fulfilling to exhausting? When does it stop being about genuine joy and start becoming just another way of keeping ourselves busy, of filling a gap we can’t quite name?

And what happens when this mindset spills into our relationships, when our search for love becomes another race to achieve, to attain, to complete ourselves? We often enter relationships with the same mindset, seeking someone to fill the empty spaces, to make us feel whole, to bring comfort or validation. We look for partners who we think will give us what we’re missing, assuming that a relationship will somehow make us feel “complete..

But real love isn’t about filling a gap or checking off boxes. It’s about finding someone who complements the life we’re building, who sees us as we are and still chooses to be there. True connection doesn’t come from a sense of need but from a sense of presence and shared understanding. It’s the difference between someone who fits into our lives easily, like the last piece of a puzzle, and someone who feels like a temporary distraction.

True love doesn’t need constant affirmations or grand gestures. It’s not about proving anything; it’s about simply being. It’s in the quiet moments, like sharing a simple meal, where words aren’t needed, and you feel a sense of calm. Real love is like that bowl of oatmeal—warm, grounding, and fulfilling in its simplicity. It’s about finding someone who doesn’t add noise to your life but instead brings a sense of peace, of clarity, of presence.

Perhaps the key to filling the gap isn’t in adding more or in the endless pursuit of something greater. Maybe it’s in slowing down, in savoring what’s already there, in allowing ourselves to see that life and love aren’t about filling every empty space but about finding peace in the quiet moments. Sometimes, happiness is simply the act of being, of finding someone who fits, not because they fill a void, but because they make the journey richer, more meaningful, and complete in its own way.

In life and in love, the deepest fulfillment often isn’t found in the pursuit of more but in the realization that sometimes, what we already have is enough.