Why Love Feels So Temporary And Why Trauma Feels Like Home
Riya Kumari | Jun 05, 2025, 13:40 IST
( Image credit : Pexels, Timeslife )
Look, I’m not here to ruin love for you. I mean, I am, but with charm. Love used to be handwritten letters and grand declarations. Now it’s “u up?” and “I don’t believe in labels.” And we go along with it—because somehow, somewhere between third-grade crushes and adulting breakdowns, love started feeling... rented. Like an Airbnb you’re scared to get comfortable in because it clearly isn’t yours to keep.
Understanding the strange comfort of chaos, and the fear of peace There’s a reason we pull away from good love, and run toward the ones who hurt us. It’s not madness. It’s memory. Not of people, but of patterns.
The Heart Doesn’t Want What’s Good. It Wants What’s Familiar.
We keep asking, “Why do I always fall for the wrong person?” But that’s not the real question. The real question is: Why does the wrong person feel so right? The answer lies in repetition. As children, we didn’t just watch love. We absorbed it. If love came with conditions, we learned to perform. If love came with silence, we learned to overthink. If love disappeared when we needed it, we learned to never need too loudly.
So as adults, we keep returning to the kind of love that reflects what we grew up around—not because it feels good, but because it feels familiar. And familiarity feels safe. Even when it’s not. We call it chemistry. But it’s really just recognition.
We Think We’re Falling In Love. Often, We’re Just Repeating Old Pain.
You meet someone, and it feels electric. They say just the right things, but they’re hot one day, cold the next. You start overthinking. You feel anxious, addicted. Alive. You think, “This must be love.” But the rush isn’t connection. It’s survival. When we’re used to inconsistency, it activates our nervous system.
We mistake the spike in anxiety for excitement. The high stakes feel like passion. But it’s not intimacy—it’s intensity. And the two are not the same. One makes you feel safe. The other keeps you guessing. We don’t fear love. We fear the absence of chaos.
Good Love Feels Boring If You've Only Known Love That Hurt
The biggest tragedy isn’t that we don’t find good love. It’s that we don’t know what to do with it when it comes. When someone loves you in a steady, kind way—your body might reject it. Your mind might call it “too easy,” “not passionate enough,” or “meh.” But what you’re really feeling is discomfort in peace.
Because your system doesn’t yet know how to relax in a space that doesn’t require fixing, pleasing, or fighting to be chosen. To someone who’s always had to earn love, unconditional love can feel suspicious. Even boring. But only because it doesn’t hurt.
We Romanticize Pain, But It’s Just Repetition Dressed Up As Destiny
Pain doesn’t always show up wearing red flags. Sometimes it comes dressed as nostalgia. As the person who “just gets you” a little too fast. As a spark that burns too quickly, then leaves ashes you try to sculpt into meaning. But here’s the truth: The one who triggers your deepest wounds isn’t your soulmate.
They’re your mirror. They show you what still needs healing. And healing? Healing is not found in chasing chaos, but in choosing differently—especially when every bone in your body wants to run back to the familiar.
We Heal When We Learn To Stay Where Love Is Safe
Love isn’t meant to be a performance. Or a puzzle. Or a prize. It’s not something you win by shrinking yourself, or stretching yourself thin. Love, in its true form, is gentle. It’s quiet. Sometimes even dull in its reliability.
But real love isn’t dull.
It’s peaceful. And peace is only boring when pain has been your normal. The work isn’t in finding the perfect person. It’s in becoming someone who can receive love without feeling like it’s too much, or not enough, or about to leave.
Final Thought: The Real Home Is the One You Build Inside Yourself
Trauma feels like home when you’ve never had a safe one. But you can build one now. Inside you. Around you. Through boundaries. Through healing. Through choosing what feels good after the high fades, not what gives you a rush that leads to a crash. The real love you’re looking for won’t feel like a storm. It will feel like clarity.
And when it comes, you’ll notice something strange: It doesn’t sweep you off your feet. It lets you stand. That’s how you’ll know. This time, it’s not your wounds leading. It’s you.
The Heart Doesn’t Want What’s Good. It Wants What’s Familiar.
Heartbreak
( Image credit : Pexels )
We keep asking, “Why do I always fall for the wrong person?” But that’s not the real question. The real question is: Why does the wrong person feel so right? The answer lies in repetition. As children, we didn’t just watch love. We absorbed it. If love came with conditions, we learned to perform. If love came with silence, we learned to overthink. If love disappeared when we needed it, we learned to never need too loudly.
So as adults, we keep returning to the kind of love that reflects what we grew up around—not because it feels good, but because it feels familiar. And familiarity feels safe. Even when it’s not. We call it chemistry. But it’s really just recognition.
We Think We’re Falling In Love. Often, We’re Just Repeating Old Pain.
Couple fight
( Image credit : Pexels )
You meet someone, and it feels electric. They say just the right things, but they’re hot one day, cold the next. You start overthinking. You feel anxious, addicted. Alive. You think, “This must be love.” But the rush isn’t connection. It’s survival. When we’re used to inconsistency, it activates our nervous system.
We mistake the spike in anxiety for excitement. The high stakes feel like passion. But it’s not intimacy—it’s intensity. And the two are not the same. One makes you feel safe. The other keeps you guessing. We don’t fear love. We fear the absence of chaos.
Good Love Feels Boring If You've Only Known Love That Hurt
Date
( Image credit : Pexels )
The biggest tragedy isn’t that we don’t find good love. It’s that we don’t know what to do with it when it comes. When someone loves you in a steady, kind way—your body might reject it. Your mind might call it “too easy,” “not passionate enough,” or “meh.” But what you’re really feeling is discomfort in peace.
Because your system doesn’t yet know how to relax in a space that doesn’t require fixing, pleasing, or fighting to be chosen. To someone who’s always had to earn love, unconditional love can feel suspicious. Even boring. But only because it doesn’t hurt.
We Romanticize Pain, But It’s Just Repetition Dressed Up As Destiny
Upset
( Image credit : Pexels )
Pain doesn’t always show up wearing red flags. Sometimes it comes dressed as nostalgia. As the person who “just gets you” a little too fast. As a spark that burns too quickly, then leaves ashes you try to sculpt into meaning. But here’s the truth: The one who triggers your deepest wounds isn’t your soulmate.
They’re your mirror. They show you what still needs healing. And healing? Healing is not found in chasing chaos, but in choosing differently—especially when every bone in your body wants to run back to the familiar.
We Heal When We Learn To Stay Where Love Is Safe
Date night
( Image credit : Pexels )
Love isn’t meant to be a performance. Or a puzzle. Or a prize. It’s not something you win by shrinking yourself, or stretching yourself thin. Love, in its true form, is gentle. It’s quiet. Sometimes even dull in its reliability.
But real love isn’t dull.
It’s peaceful. And peace is only boring when pain has been your normal. The work isn’t in finding the perfect person. It’s in becoming someone who can receive love without feeling like it’s too much, or not enough, or about to leave.
Final Thought: The Real Home Is the One You Build Inside Yourself
And when it comes, you’ll notice something strange: It doesn’t sweep you off your feet. It lets you stand. That’s how you’ll know. This time, it’s not your wounds leading. It’s you.