Why You Miss Them (Even Though They Hurt You): Understanding Trauma Bonds
You know they hurt you. Maybe they yelled. Maybe they withdrew. Maybe they gaslit you or made you question what was real. You've left, or maybe they left you. But here you are: still aching, still remembering the good times, still wondering if it was really that bad. Or worse, you're asking yourself: "What's wrong with me for missing someone who treated me like that?"
If this sounds familiar, take a deep breath. You're not broken. You're human.
What you're feeling has a name and understanding it can be the first step toward untangling the confusion and beginning to heal.
What Is a Trauma Bond?
A trauma bond isn't a sign of weakness or poor judgment. It's what happens when your nervous system is repeatedly activated by a person who both soothes and harms you.
The cycle looks like this: Abuse → Emotional Withdrawal → Reconciliation → Hope → Repeat
In these relationships, love and pain become entwined. Your body learns to associate intense emotional highs and lows with connection. You find yourself hooked on the hope that things will improve, or on the memory of who they were at the beginning.
This push–pull intensity is also why chaos can feel like chemistry in the early stages of a relationship, which I explore more deeply in Why Chaos Can Feel Like Chemistry.
This bond can feel as strong as an addiction because, neurologically, it functions very similarly.
What it's not: Having a shared trauma history or simply missing an ex. Trauma bonds involve an ongoing cycle of emotional harm and hope. They're built on a specific pattern of intensity, injury, and intermittent relief.
Even relationships that hurt can feel deeply intimate. Trauma bonds often blur the line between connection and pain.
How the Cycle Forms: The Pattern You May Not Have Noticed
Trauma bonds don't appear overnight. They develop gradually through a repeating cycle that can feel like an emotional rollercoaster you never bought a ticket for.
The Beginning: Idealisation
The relationship often starts with extraordinary intensity. You feel seen, loved, and special in ways you may never have experienced before.
You might notice:
Love bombing: excessive attention, gifts, declarations of devotion
Over-the-top praise that makes you feel uniquely special
Fast-moving emotional or physical intimacy that feels thrilling and destiny-driven
A sense that this person "gets you" in a way others never have
Your nervous system registers: This is safe. This is home. This is what I've been searching for.
Dopamine floods your system. You feel alive in a way you haven't in years.
The Shift: Devaluation
Gradually — sometimes so imperceptibly you almost miss it — things change.
The same person who made you feel special begins to:
Criticise things they once praised
Withdraw affection as punishment
Gaslight you ("That didn't happen," "You're being too sensitive," "You're remembering it wrong")
Blame-shift ("You made me do this")
Create rules and conditions you have to meet
Isolate you from friends or family
Alternate between cold distance and explosive anger
You try harder. You adjust yourself. You believe if you just get it right, they'll go back to being the person you fell for.
Your nervous system registers: Something's wrong. I need to fix this. I need to earn their love back.
Cortisol and adrenaline spike. Your body stays in a constant state of vigilance.
The Release: Reconciliation
After the tension reaches a breaking point, they soften.
They apologise — even if it's vague or conditional. They show affection again. They make grand gestures or promises of change. You glimpse the person you fell for. You feel hopeful.
Relief floods through your body. Your nervous system registers: The threat is over. I'm safe again. They do love me. It was all just a misunderstanding.
Dopamine floods your system once more. That high of relief, of being reunited, of crisis averted, is intoxicating.
The Repetition: Deeper Into the Bond
The cycle starts again. But something has shifted.
With each repetition, your nervous system becomes more dependent on this person as the source of both threat and relief. Each cycle deepens the bond.
You learn:
Connection = unpredictability
Love = chaos followed by comfort
Safety = temporary and conditional
Intimacy = enmeshment and losing yourself
Your nervous system is being rewired with each cycle.
Why You Still Miss Them
Let's gently explore why this longing sticks around.
The Neurochemistry Hooks You In
Your brain is wired to seek connection and safety. The highs of the relationship — the apologies, the affection, the promises of change — flood your system with dopamine and oxytocin. Then come the crashes: the criticism, the withdrawal, the fear.
This rollercoaster activates your survival brain, and your nervous system starts to equate the drama with love.
You're not missing harm. You're missing the relief. You're missing the high of being reunited. You're missing the moments when your nervous system finally got to rest after being on high alert.
It Taps Into Old Wounds
Many people who experience trauma bonds have histories of inconsistent caregiving, emotional neglect, or early relational trauma. When someone replicates these familiar dynamics, it can feel almost comforting, even if it's harmful.
Your inner child holds onto a quiet hope: Maybe this time, I can earn the love I needed back then. Maybe this time will be different.
Cognitive Dissonance Creates Confusion
When you know someone hurt you but still miss them, your mind struggles to reconcile those contradictions. So it clings to the good memories, the idealised moments, the glimpses of who you thought they could be.
You find yourself replaying the "honeymoon phase," searching for signs that it was real, that it meant something, that the good parts were the true parts.
You're Grieving More Than Just the Person
It's not just them you miss. It's the potential they represented. The future you imagined. The version of them that sometimes emerged. The person you believed you could become in that relationship.
Letting go means mourning not only the relationship but also the fantasy of who you hoped they could be.
You Wonder If You Were the Problem
Gaslighting, blame-shifting, and manipulation can leave deep scars. You may now question your own memory, your reactions, your worth.
Missing them becomes tangled with guilt and self-doubt: Maybe if I had just... Maybe I wasn't patient enough... Maybe I exaggerated...
This shame keeps the bond tight.
Why Leaving Feels Like Withdrawal, Not Liberation
Here's something nobody warns you about: Leaving an unsafe relationship often feels less like freedom and more like loss.
Your body isn't celebrating. It's in withdrawal.
Your thinking brain knows the relationship was unsafe. Your survival brain does not care.
It only tracks:
Patterns
Threat
Relief
Familiarity
The attachment system firing
Trauma bonds live in the nervous system, not the intellect.
This is why you find yourself:
Missing their voice
Your stomach dropping at text notifications
Your body scanning for them in crowds
Your sleep disrupted
Feeling profoundly lonely, even though you left for good reasons
Finding calm feels strange, almost threatening
Your body learned chaos as normal. Now, stability feels unfamiliar. And the unfamiliar often feels scarier than the familiar — even when the familiar hurt you.
One More Thing: Missing Them Doesn't Mean It Wasn't Abuse
One of the biggest myths survivors battle is this: "If it was really abuse, I wouldn't still care."
But missing someone is a feeling, not a fact.
Trauma bonds can distort your perception of love and safety. You can miss someone and recognise that the relationship was unsafe. You can grieve and protect yourself simultaneously.
These things are not contradictions. They're the honest complexity of having cared for someone who also caused harm.
How to Begin Breaking the Bond (Gently, Not Abruptly)
You don't have to tear the bond apart overnight. But you can begin to unravel it, thread by thread.
Recognise the Pattern
Name it. Notice when the longing kicks in. Is it tied to loneliness? Self-doubt? A need for reassurance?
Awareness is a powerful first step.
Ground in the Present
Create rituals that bring you back to your body:
A weighted blanket or grounding stone
Feet in the grass
A hand placed on your heart
Slow, deep breathing into your belly
Remind yourself: It's over. I am safe now.
Reflect on the Reality
Write down what actually happened. Not the softened version. Not the version where you take responsibility for their behaviour.
What did you have to compromise? What was the cost to your health, your dignity, your joy?
Reconnect With Safe People
Healing doesn't happen in isolation. Let someone trustworthy bear witness to your story — a friend, a therapist, a support group.
Build a New Story
Who are you becoming now that you're free? What kind of love do you want to grow into, starting with how you treat yourself?
A Gentle Closing
If you still miss someone who hurt you, it means this:
Your body adapted. Your heart tried. Your nervous system was doing its absolute best to keep you safe in an unsafe situation.
Your longing is not a sign of weakness. It's a sign of survival.
And survival patterns can be unlearned.
You can feel safe again. You can feel like yourself again. You can love again — without fear, without walking on eggshells, without confusing intensity for safety.
You are not weak for missing them. You're not foolish, broken, or doomed to repeat the past. You're someone who loved deeply, who wanted connection, and who tried to make something work that couldn't.
Healing means learning to feel the ache without letting it pull you back.
You don't have to navigate this alone.
If you'd like support processing what happened, reconnecting with your self-worth, and moving toward safer, more nourishing love, I'm here.
📧 kat@safespacecounsellingservices.com.au
📞 0452 285 526
You deserve steadiness. You deserve tenderness. You deserve peace.
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FAQ: Trauma Bond Recovery
What makes a trauma bond different from a healthy relationship?
In a trauma bond, the emotional connection is built on cycles of abuse and reconciliation, creating confusion, dependency, and a distorted sense of love and safety.
Why does leaving feel so hard, even when I know it’s toxic?
Because your nervous system associates the emotional highs and lows with connection. This creates a powerful physiological and emotional hook that mimics addiction.
Can I recover from a trauma bond on my own?
While self-reflection helps, many people benefit from therapeutic support to untangle the guilt, grief, and patterns that formed in the relationship.
