DEAR DR. NERDLOVE: I have a few things I want to talk about, and I promise it all ties back to romantic relationships, so bear with me.
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To give some context, my life hasn’t been easy. I experienced severe emotional abuse as a child, and that trauma shaped a lot of my relationships moving forward. For most of my life, I’ve found myself either attracting or being drawn to people who weren’t emotionally healthy, often in subtle ways. This pattern led to a lot of one-sided friendships or manipulative short-term relationships.
I’ve done a lot of work over the last few years with the help of a great therapist, and while I know it’s a long and difficult journey, I’m committed to healing. One of the coping mechanisms I developed early on was to cut people out of my life. Sometimes this has been necessary, but I know at other times it’s been an overreaction or even an inappropriate response to situations that didn’t warrant it.
Most recently, I’ve distanced myself from a friendship group that was, honestly, the healthiest I’ve had in a long time. While I wouldn’t say I was able to fully open up to them, they were good, caring people who genuinely made an effort to get to know me and spend time with me. But I’ve often felt overwhelmed by their attention, particularly when they would ask why I wasn’t dating anyone. On top of that, I’ve become very good at masking my emotions, so people often think I’m fine when I’m actually struggling. About a month ago, during a depressive episode, I ended up blocking all of them. They’ve tried reaching out, but I’ve ignored them, and now I find myself isolated.
This leads me to something else I struggle with: deep down, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I can’t seem to believe that any woman could be interested in me or fall in love with me. I’ve “put myself out there”, and my friendships with women have been good, but aside from very rarely meeting someone that was available, I just don’t understand the dynamics that lead to a romantic connection. If it weren’t for people suggesting otherwise, I’d almost believe that I am just that undesirable of a human.
In many ways, my life is going well. I’m doing well in almost every area, but emotionally, I still feel stuck. I often feel alienated, like I’m emotionally stunted compared to others. I have no real sense of what it feels like to love or be loved. I can’t picture what it would be like to have a close friend, someone I could confide in. I can’t imagine feeling that warmth in my chest when something good happens, or the excitement of taking the first steps in a romantic relationship.
I know I’m not an ugly man, nor am I useless or unkind. I know I’m not a bad person—quite the opposite, really. But when I look at others who seem to have fulfilling, loving relationships and close friendships, it’s hard not to feel like something’s missing in my own life. Therapy has been helpful, but it often feels like we only see the ‘highlight reel’ of progress, while the messy, painful side of healing is hidden behind the scenes. I’ve seen people recover quickly — like someone I once knew who, despite being suicidal, found a partner just a few months into therapy. But right now, I’m stuck in the messy part, unsure of how to move forward, and I’m left wondering if it’s even possible for me.
Ironically, I work with children now, and they seem to see something in me that I can’t see in myself. It’s clear that many of them find me to be the kindest, most understanding adult they know. Some of them have said I’ve been an inspiration to them, that I’ve made them feel safe, and that they’re grateful for everything I’ve done.
But despite the positive impact I’ve had on others, I still struggle to believe I have the capacity to be loved in return.
Emotionally Stunted
DEAR EMOTIONALLY STUNTED: OK I want to preface this by saying that I am not trying to diminish or otherwise minimize the trauma of the abuse you experienced growing up. That’s the sort of thing that leaves long-term, lasting scars, and I’m sorry you went through all of that.
But I would be remiss if I didn’t point out an obvious truth: it’s going to be hard to accept that you’re worthy of love if you don’t actually give people the chance to love you. This is the very definition of a self-reinforcing cycle; you don’t believe that you’re capable of being loved or worthy of being loved and so you shut out the people who are trying to show you that they love you and they care. That increases your loneliness and isolation and that, in turn, reinforces the feeling that you’re unworthy of being loved or so flawed in some way that you push people away.
And as simplistic as it may sound… have you considered not doing that?
Ok yes, that’s easily said and not so easily done. But even allowing for the fact that this is as much a trauma response and your brain trying to protect you from being hurt further, the fact remains that this is a conscious series of steps that you take. At each step of the way, you have had to decide that you were going to distance yourself from them, block them and then ignore them when they reach out to you. That means that there are multiple points in this process where you could have chosen to stop, to make a different choice and not give in to the fear.
I get that this is doesn’t feel like a step-by-step process to you. I get that it’s something that happens in a moment of panic. Some aspect of your connection with people hits the tripwire in your brain, your endocrine system dumps a metric f--kton of adrenaline and you’re in fight-or-flight mode and you slam your fist on the block button. But here’s the thing: while this may have started as a way to protect yourself, this behavior is no longer serving you. It’s evolved past its utility in a way that’s all too common: avoidance has made the feeling worse.
Like a solider who’s still trying to fight a war that’s long over, this self-defense mechanism no longer has an enemy to fight, but it can’t bring itself to accept this. So the mission has changed. Now you’re not protecting yourself from people who have hurt you; you’re trying to protect yourself from the discomfort of that fear. You’ve, quite literally, become afraid of fear itself, the feeling of that discomfort that the fear brings. Icing people out and blocking them isn’t about protecting yourself so much as just trying to make that feeling go away.
I think, to some degree, you understand this. But I wonder if you’ve ever stopped and tried to break the cycle. Part of why you’re in this circumstance is because this cycle has gone on for so long that it’s basically just serving to perpetuate its own existence. And the only way to break this cycle is, quite honestly, to choose to break it.
Now I’m not saying that this is as easy as deciding to do something and magically you’ll have the will to do it. You’re dealing with the most primal instinct humans have: self-preservation. Fear is the manifestation of a desire for safety and security; it’s our brain trying to keep us alive, no matter the cost. Happiness isn’t even a secondary consideration; it’s barely a consideration at all. So that drive is very powerful and very compelling in the literal sense.
But the fact that it’s powerful doesn’t mean that it’s unstoppable. It relies on the immediate response to that fear. But that’s the thing: you don’t need to do anything to push through. In fact, the thing you should be doing is… nothing. You don’t react immediately; you, instead, choose to pause. To wait. To grit your teeth and breathe through the fear. As the litany says: fear is the mind-killer, the little death. You want to face your fear and let it through you and past you. When you do, then you often see that the immediacy of the panic subsides and you recognize that you were about to react to a threat that is, quite literally, only in your mind. Taking that moment to just restrain yourself from making an impulsive decision can be all it takes to realize that this isn’t the dire threat you thought it was.
Now some of this is the something you should be working with your therapist on. But one thing that I think you should start doing is getting in the habit of focusing on your breath. When you feel those moments – whether you’re in a depressive mood or simply feeling the panic starting to rise – you want to do what’s called 4-4-4 breathing. You exhale all the air out of your lungs, then breathe in a slow and controlled pace for a count of four seconds. Then you hold your breath in your lungs for four seconds, then breath out to a count of four. Then you repeat the process: four seconds in, four seconds holding your breath and four seconds out again.
This does two things. The first is that it slows your heart rate down; because you aren’t breathing rapidly, you are disrupting the panic cycle and forcing your central nervous system and cardiovascular system to slow their roll. Just as importantly, however, you are taking your mind off the thing that’s causing you to panic and giving it something else to focus on instead. By distracting yourself and turning your thoughts away from what you’re experiencing in that moment, you give everything a chance to calm down and for the moment to pass. When it does, I think you’ll experience a greater feeling of relief than you would expect. Then, as the rest of your systems come down from red alert, you’ll be in a better position to make choices that will actually benefit you instead of lashing out.
The other thing I would point out is that breaking the cycle doesn’t mean just preventing yourself from shutting people out in a panic. The fact that you closed that particular door doesn’t mean that you can’t reopen it again. You actually have an opportunity to do just that, even as you read this. Those friends you cut off have been reaching out to you. You can choose to reach back, to unblock them and to let them back in. You can say “I’m sorry, I let my fear get in the way”. It’s clear that they care for you and that they’re worried. They’re going to understand, especially if they know your history.
I know coming back to them can be scary. Worse, it’s embarrassing, and we do so many stupid things because we don’t like feeling embarrassed. But much like the fear, if you can recognize the embarrassment for what it is – another form of misaligned attempt to protect yourself – you can push through that too. The momentary sting of coming back to your friends and saying “I didn’t mean to push you away” is far less than the relief that comes from ending your self-imposed isolation.
The last thing I would suggest is that you need to work on learning to love and accept yourself. When we quote Ru Paul’s famous saying of “If you don’t love yourself how the hell are you going to love anyone else,” we’re not saying that loving others is contingent on loving yourself first. We’re saying that if you can’t love yourself, you have a much harder time accepting love from others. You may have love to give, but it’s harder to give when you can’t receive.
The thing is, part of what makes this insidious and hard to shake is that this really is down to these old systems that had a purpose once, but have long outlasted them. These coping mechanisms were predicated on the hurt that others were inflicting on you, and part of why they linger is… well, because of the ways it’s trying to protect you. One of the ways it tries to protect you is by misunderstanding why you need to be protected in the first place. There are few things more painful than being hurt by people who you love or who are supposed to care for you. It feels wrong. It’s much easier to believe that there’s a reason for their abuse, that someone who supposedly loves you wouldn’t hurt you like this unless they had to or unless you deserved it. Rather than accept that the people who abused you were wrong and mistreated you, intentionally or otherwise, it’s easier to assume the fault is in you. You are protecting yourself from one pain – the pain of someone you love treating you in such ugly ways – by taking the blame on yourself. It’s not their fault. People who love you shouldn’t hurt you or treat you like that. So, the fault must clearly be in you instead.
This is part of why you feel less worthy and more broken than others. It’s why you feel like other people – people who seem to “recover” more quickly than you – are succeeding where you’re failing. It’s not just the highlight reel issue, it’s the continuing acceptance of the framing that you brought this on yourself because you’re flawed, damaged or broken. It’s one more thing that you take as proof that the people who treated you badly saw something in you, something that made their mistreatment understandable, even inevitable.
And that’s bulls--t. 100%, complete, total bulls--t being expelled from choleric bovines.
It’s logical in its twisted way, but it’s the logic of a scared and hurt child who doesn’t understand what’s going on. But you’re no longer that child. The pain is still there, the scars are still there… but you’re not the child you were. You can understand now what you couldn’t before: that this wasn’t your fault, that you didn’t deserve this and that the people who hurt you are wrong.
Understanding and accepting this on so thoroughly that it becomes part of you, accepting that mistreatment isn’t part of love, is part of how you break those cycles of falling for toxic or one-sided relationships. You stop accepting that behavior as good or necessary, and you stop believing that you deserve that treatment for sins that you have never committed and that were never yours in the first place.
You shouldn’t feel ashamed for this pain, or for how you’ve tried to manage it all this time. I think you would do better to acknowledge that these coping mechanisms have been doing their best to keep you safe, to thank them for what they intended, and to acknowledge that their job is over and has been for quite some time. It’s time to decommission those defenses, lower your shields, and accept that it’s time for a change. There will still be people who you need to guard against, people who you need to cut out of your life. But that’s not the same as letting your fears control you and isolate you.
You have people in your life who are good for you, who express love and affection for you and who – in your own words – are probably the healthiest social connection you’ve had in years. Start there. Welcome them back in. Accept that they love you and that you’re worthy of being loved. Let that acceptance be part of how you find the strength to simply hold still and breathe when you feel that fear, until the fear has passed through you and you turn your inner eye to see that is has gone and only you remain.
It’s a seemingly small thing, but it’s the first step to ending your isolation and learning to allow others to love you the way you wish you were loved.
All will be well.
Please send your questions to Dr. NerdLove at his website (www.doctornerdlove.com/contact); or to his email, doc@doctornerdlove.com