In this society, very few people discuss how to genuinely love and how to receive it. Even though romance is a broad topic, and there are countless books and movies about love in all its forms, most of them focus on fantasy, conflict, or happy endings. But as a woman who didn’t grow up in an ideal world or family, I never realized how hard it was for me to learn how to love, especially how to receive it.

I used to believe I wasn’t deserving of it. I didn’t even know that feeling had a name, that there were words for the kind of quiet self-abandonment I carried with me. I kept denying myself love by staying busy, always trying to prove something. I kept running the moment someone got too close. And when I became a mother, I finally asked myself: What am I running from?

Maybe something’s wrong. Maybe it’s me. And maybe that’s where the healing had to start.

I think this is something people need to talk about more: how to love someone who comes from a difficult background. How to recognize their wounds, their trauma responses, the way they push love away, not because they don’t want it, but because they never learned how to hold it.

If you love someone like that, you need to understand what you’re stepping into. And decide, honestly, if you’re willing to live a life with someone who’s still learning how to heal. Because love isn’t enough when there’s no awareness. And silence only deepens the cycle of pain.

Too often, people with trauma are used, manipulated, and discarded. The world can be cruel to those who feel deeply but quietly, who were taught to believe their softness makes them weak. I know this because I lived it. I went through a relationship with someone who used my past against me. Who twisted my pain into a weapon. And even then, I stayed, because I thought that was love.

But it wasn’t. And when I finally walked away and met someone kind, someone real, I ran again. I was terrified. Because how could someone like me deserve something so gentle?

It took a long time before I could accept it. Before I could sit still in love and believe it wouldn’t hurt me. Before I could say: I want this. I deserve this. And mean it.

Looking back now, I wish someone had talked to me about trauma earlier. I wish someone had told me that my brokenness didn’t make me unlovable; it made me human. If I had known that, maybe I would’ve healed sooner. Maybe I would’ve loved myself more. Maybe I would’ve waited for the right kind of love, instead of bleeding for the wrong ones.

But even with the pain, I’m still hopeful.

I believe we can stop the cycle. I believe we can be more honest with ourselves and with each other. We can learn how to love better. We can learn how to stay. We can learn how to receive.

And maybe that’s the most radical thing we can do in this world:
To love well. And to let ourselves be loved in return.