Loving Someone Who's Been Hurt: Navigating Relationships After Relational Trauma (Encore)

You're listening to Coupled With, the podcast that helps you take the guesswork out of feeling seen, heard, and valued in your relationship. If you've ever felt stuck in the same arguments, struggled to stay connected, or wondered how to better communicate with your partner, you're in the right place. I'm Doctor. Rachel Orlich, a couples therapist and coach, and together we're going to make relationships make sense. Let's dive in.

You love someone who's been hurt before, not in the casual everyone has baggage kind of way. I'm talking about real relational trauma. The kind that rewires the nervous system that says don't trust too easily, don't lean in too far, don't expect to be chosen, cherished, or safe. Maybe they had a parent that exploded at the smallest thing or one that disappeared when things got hard. Maybe they were in a past relationship

where affection came with strings attached, where love men control or betrayal or walking on eggshells every damn day. And now they're here with you, and you know they love you. But sometimes it's like no matter how safe you try to be, no matter how patient or consistent, it's never quite enough to quiet the alarm bells that are still going off in their body. You reach out and they flinch.

You reassure them and they doubt. You say, I'm not going anywhere, and they brace for abandonment anyway. It's not always that dramatic, of course. Sometimes the trauma is quieter, more subtle. They don't scream. They just shut down. They don't accuse you of anything. They just don't let you all the way in. And here's the thing nobody tells

you when you fall in love with somebody who's been relationally hurt. You can love them deeply, fiercely, and tenderly, and still end up in a cycle where you're the one feeling punished for pain you didn't cause. So in today's episode, I wanna talk to the partners, the ones loving the person who's been hurt. We're gonna break down what's actually happening in these trauma driven dynamics,

why you keep ending up with the same arguments or disconnects, and how you can show up with compassion without erasing yourself. And if you're the partner who has trauma, stick around too, because this episode will help you understand what your pain might be doing in the space between you and how your partner can meet you without making you feel defective or ashamed. This is not about blaming the traumatized partner or glorifying

the strong one who's always holding space. This is about truth telling, because when trauma is running the show, both people get hurt, and both people deserve better than walking on eggshells. So let's dig in. So first things first, what are we actually talking about when we say relational trauma? Because this isn't just about abuse or dramatic betrayals. Relational trauma can come from anything that may feel unsafe.

It can be inconsistent parenting, a partner who used affection as a weapon, a family where vulnerability got punished or simply ignored. Relational trauma teaches you that closeness equals danger, that people are unpredictable, that you are too much or not enough, that you have to earn love by being perfect, accommodating, invisible, or strong. And here's what that looks like in real time inside a relationship.

They might get hypervigilance, scanning for tone, micro expressions, signs you're about to turn cold or withdraw. Or they might preemptively shut down to avoid being hurt, checking out, getting quiet, saying they're fine when they're absolutely not. They might test your love by pulling away just to see if you'll follow, or they might escalate arguments to create distance before you can. This stuff isn't always loud. In fact, a lot of the time,

it's incredibly subtle. It looks like brushing off compliments, dismissing your care, holding onto control of everything in the relationship because surrendering even a little bit feels like standing at the edge of a cliff with no railing. And here's the hardest part if you're the partner on the receiving end. They don't want to do this. They don't mean to hurt you. They often don't even know that they're doing it.

Their bodies are just doing what it learned to do. Protect, anticipate threat, minimize risk, stay in control. So if you're sitting there wondering, why do they assume I'm mad all the time? Why can't they believe I actually love them? Why does everything feel so high stakes, even over the smallest things? This is why. Their system is constantly preparing for abandonment or betrayal, even when there's

no clear reason. And no matter how many times you say, I'm here, I'm not your ex, I'm not your parent, I love you, the trauma brain doesn't hear words. It hears tone, it watches for behavior, it tracks consistency, which means love, no matter how real, has to feel safe before it can feel good. And if it doesn't feel safe, they'll protect themselves the way they always have, even

if it means pushing away the thing that they want the most. And that's where the cycle begins. So let's talk about what happens next when trauma gets activated in a relationship and neither of you quite know what's going on. Because here's the truth, even the most loving relationship can start to feel like a minefield when trauma enters the cycle, not because either person is bad, but because you're

both trying to protect something sacred, safety, worth, connection, without realizing how often their protective moves collide. Let me paint a picture. Let's say your partner gets quiet after a disagreement. Not a healthy taking space, kind of quiet, but a shutdown frozen kind of silence. You try to check-in and they say, it's fine. I just need space. But their tone is cold, flat, and final.

You wanna respect that, so you back off. But now you're sitting with the ache. You start wondering, did I push too hard? Are they mad at me? Are they pulling away again? So now your nervous system gets activated. You feel anxious, maybe even rejected. Maybe this keeps happening and you've started to believe that anytime there's a rupture, it's up to you to fix it.

So eventually you try to reengage. You soften your voice, you reach out with a tender, Hey, can we talk about what just happened? And maybe they snap or they look away or they say, Why do you always need to talk everything to death? Now you're hurt. You were trying to reach out, and now it feels like you're being punished for wanting connection. So what do you do?

You go quiet too. Maybe you shut down emotionally. Maybe you stop initiating affection. Maybe you tell yourself, I'll just wait for them to come around. And then from their end, you look withdrawn or cold or unavailable, and their trauma brain lights up again. See, I knew I couldn't trust this. I knew they'd pull away. And just like that, you're both sitting on opposite ends

of the couch, physically close, but emotionally miles apart. That's the trauma cycle. It's sneaky, it's sticky, and if you don't name it, it starts to feel personal, like you're incompatible or you're failing each other. But really, you're both responding to pain the only way you know how. Your partner's trauma might tell them, Don't depend on anyone. It's safer to handle things alone. While your attachment system might say, If we

don't talk about this, I'll lose them. So their protectors shut down, yours reach out. They freeze, you pursue. Or they lash out, and you recoil. And round and round you go. Here's what I need you to hear. This cycle is not your fault, but it is your responsibility. Not in the you need to fix this kind of way, in the this is

the work of real love kind of way. Because here's the thing about relational trauma, it teaches people that relationships are unsafe, and then it creates the conditions to prove itself right. And unless both people can start seeing the cycle as the enemy, not each other, you will stay stuck. I've worked with so many couples where one person is carrying deep trauma and the other is carrying the emotional load of the relationship

and both are exhausted. One partner feels like they're constantly overcompensating, tiptoeing, overexplaining, and trying to be reassuring without being smothering. The other partner feels like they're broken or too much or impossible to love, and they keep waiting for the moment their partner gives up. So much quiet suffering and so much bracing, and no one is saying the one thing that could actually help break the loop. I think we're both protecting ourselves

from something painful. What if we try to understand that instead of blaming each other? That moment, that shift from you versus me to us versus the pattern, that's where the healing starts, not when the trauma disappears. But it's when both people stop making the cycle personal and start making it conscious. Let's start talking about you for a minute. Because loving someone with relational trauma isn't just hard, it's confusing and lonely, and

sometimes it makes you question your own reality. You start second guessing yourself. You wonder if you're being too much or not enough. You walk around constantly checking your tone, your words, and your energy, trying to be calming, soft, and steady, even when you're screaming inside. And while you're doing all of that emotional work to keep things safe for them, a quiet truth starts building up

inside of you. But who's making it safe for me? Let's just say it clearly. Being the strong one in the relationship is exhausting, especially when the strength is invisible. You're the one smoothing over the tension, initiating repair, overthinking every text or pause or facial expression. And the worst part, you feel guilty for feeling this way because you know your partner's been through things, you know they're doing

their best, you know they don't mean to shut you out or lash out or pull away. So instead of naming your own pain, you swallow it. You make excuses. You say things like, They just need time. They don't feel safe yet. It's not personal. I should be more patient. I knew this was part of their story. And hey, some of that might be

true. And here's what's also true. You matter too. You get to have needs. You get to feel hurt, you get to long for connection and consistency and closeness without being labeled as needy or too much. Real love has room for both people's pain. You're not selfish for wanting to feel chosen. You're not cold for needing some emotional reciprocity. You're not a bad partner for feeling resentment bubble up when your care

keeps getting blocked or dismissed. Those feelings don't make you unkind, they just make you human. I've worked with so many partners in this position who say things like, I just want to feel like they see what I'm giving. It's like I'm always trying to prove I'm not the enemy, and they still don't believe me. I don't wanna give up on them, but I don't know how much

longer I can live like this. Does any of this hit home? Please hear this. You are not alone, and you're not failing. When trauma is in the room, love becomes a game of emotional twister. You bend, you stretch, you contort yourself into something safe, soothing, and sturdy. But over time, if you're not careful, you disappear in the process.

And that person that you've been trying so hard to love, they can't feel you anymore. Not because you're doing something wrong, but because you're trying to be safe and you stop being real. You stop letting your own needs breathe. You stopped bringing you into the relationship, your quirks and your humor, your emotional edges, and your raw moments. You became careful. And relationships built on caution instead of connection,

they don't actually feel satisfying for either of you. So if you've been stuck in this pattern, let's name the double bind you're likely facing. You wanna be there for your partner, and you're scared that if you stop tiptoeing, things are gonna fall apart. You wanna be honest about your feelings, and you're terrified they'll take it as criticism or abandonment. You want to stay, and you don't want

to lose yourself in the process. This is the crossroads that so many partners reach, and it's not solved by being nicer or more patient or learning how to say things perfectly. It's solved by getting out of the pattern together. It's solved when both people can say, This isn't working, not because you're broken or I'm bad at love, but because we've both been trying to protect ourselves instead of

seeing each other. That kind of truth telling takes courage, but it also takes compassion for your partner and for yourself. Because when you love someone with trauma, the temptation is to become a caretaker, a calm voice, a safe harbor. But they didn't fall in love with a therapist, they fell in love with you. And the greatest gift you can give them, maybe even more than your patience, is

your authenticity. You're allowed to be frustrated. You're allowed to ask for closeness. You're allowed to say, I want to feel wanted too. That's not demanding. That's being in a relationship. And this is where we wanna start to rebuild. How to love someone with compassion without walking on eggshells, how to attune without over functioning, and how to stay connected to your partner and yourself in the

process. Okay, now we've named the cycle. We've acknowledged the pain. We've honored what it costs to love someone who's still learning to feel safe. So now the question becomes, how do you love them, really love them, without disappearing in the process? How do you show up with compassion, without becoming their emotional airbag? How do you help them feel safe, without holding your breath every time the mood

shifts? How do you walk with their trauma without walking on eggshells? Let's break this down. Step one, recenter your own nervous system first. This is non negotiable. If your partner's trauma gets activated and your nervous system follows it straight off a cliff, the whole relationship gets hijacked. So the work begins with you, not with fixing them, not with proving anything, but

with checking in with yourself. When tension hits, try asking, What's happening in my body right now? Am I trying to calm them to stop my own discomfort? Am I overriding what I feel to keep the peace? What do I need right now? Because if your only goal is don't make things worse, you'll end up shrinking yourself to avoid conflict. And that is not a sustainable

love story. Staying grounded doesn't mean staying silent. It means coming back to center, getting honest about what's yours and choosing how you respond on purpose, not out of fear. A grounded nervous system is the best gift you can bring to a dysregulated partner. But here's the twist. Grounding isn't the same as self abandonment. So step two is know the difference between attunement and over functioning.

Some of you listening are thinking you've made attunement your Olympic sport. You're hyper aware of your partner's moods, needs, and micro expressions. You jumped in to soothe, smooth, fix, and preempt. You know how to say the right thing in the right tone at the right time, and you do it even when you're hurting, even when you're spent, because you want to be safe.

But that's not attunement. That's over functioning in the relationship. Attunement is mutual. It leaves room for your emotional experience too. Over functioning says, if I do everything right, maybe they won't get triggered. It's fear in a nurturing costume. So how do you tell the difference? Try this. Attunement sounds like, I know that was hard to hear, and I'm still

with you. Let's take a breath together and figure out what just happened. I see how much this stirred up for you. What do you need from me right now? Whereas over functioning sounds more like, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Quick pause here, because what we're talking about in this episode is often part of a larger pattern. One partner starts trying harder to hold the relationship together.

The other partner starts pulling back and both nervous systems end up feeling more and more overwhelmed. If that dynamic feels familiar, I made something that might help. It's a free ten minute training called Why Love Feels Like Too Much, where I explain the cycle that escalates both partners and a short nervous system reset that can help you interrupt the spiral before it turns into another painful fight.

You can find it at the link in the show notes. Please don't be upset. Okay, okay, never mind. Forget I said anything. Or you're right, I messed up again. I just want this to feel okay. Do you see the difference? Attunement holds both people with care. Overfunctioning cancels one person to save the other. And over time, erasing yourself builds resentment.

Even if you're the calm one, even if you're the safe one, you still have a nervous system. You still have limits. You still have pain. You are not their therapist. You are their partner, and being a partner means having two nervous systems in the room that matter. So that brings us to number three, stay soft without collapsing. There's a middle ground between being defensive and disappearing, and it's

what I call firm softness. It sounds like, I know this brought up something for you, and I wanna work through it with you. But I also wanna be honest. When you shut down like that, it hurts. I feel alone, and I want us to feel close again. This is not about blaming them. It's about truth with warmth. It's about letting your partner into your emotional world so

they don't just see themselves through your eyes, they see you too. They need to be able to know your hurts as well. When you speak from this place, not with a sharp edge, but with a grounded clarity, you create a relationship where both of you can be real and messy and imperfect and still loved. That's how trust builds. Because safety isn't just built on tiptoeing

around trauma. It's built on showing up with consistency, honesty, and care, even when things get uncomfortable. So in step four, you have to drop the pressure to be perfect. Let's end this part with a bit of truth. You're going to mess it up. You'll say the wrong thing. You'll snap when you end to be smooth. You'll get overwhelmed and pull away. That doesn't mean you're failing.

It means you're human. Trauma wants perfection because perfection feels safe. But healing happens when you stay real and keep showing up. So give yourself permission to be the loving, tender, flawed partner that you are, because the goal isn't to manage your partner's trauma. The goal is to stay connected through it without abandoning either of you. And the connection, it starts with compassion.

It deepens with boundaries and it lasts when both of you stop playing defense and actually start building something new, what it can look like. We'll explore how you can support their healing without doing it for them and how to encourage those small moments of emotional risk that bring the relationship back to life. Because it's not enough to avoid re traumatizing them, you both deserve to feel loved,

chosen, and connected on purpose. So let's talk about how to get there. Because loving someone with relational trauma doesn't mean you have to become a trauma expert. It means learning how to offer tiny moments of safety over and over again, And that begins with small shifts. Not grand gestures, not perfectly worded speeches, but small repeated signals that say, I'm not your enemy. I'm here. You're allowed to feel what you

feel, and so am I. Let's walk through some of those shifts and how they work in the heat of real relationship moments. So regulate first, relate second. Your partner's trauma is going to tempt you to jump into logic mode. That's not what I meant. You're taking it wrong. Can't we just talk about this calmly? But trauma isn't rational. It's biological, which means that before your words can land,

their nervous system has to come out of threat mode. So when you sense a shutdown, escalation, or suspicious, I'm fine, try this instead. Here's your regulating move. Take a few deep breaths yourself. Slow your speech, lower your volume, relax your shoulders, make your body safe to be near. Then gently offer connection. Hey, I can feel something shifted.

Wanna take a beat together? Or we don't have to fix this right now. We can sit close and just breathe for a second. These aren't lines to perform, they're moments of attunement, and they will not work like magic. But done consistently, they start to chip away at the belief that closeness means danger. Then you're going to acknowledge their pain without erasing yours.

Let's say your partner lashes out or withdraws after a small misunderstanding. They're flooded and triggered. That instinct might be to smooth it over to keep the peace or to get defensive and say, why are you freaking out about this again? Instead, try something like, I can see this brought something up for you, and it's so hard for me when I feel pushed away. I want us to find each

other in this. What does this do? It does three things. It validates their experience, which deescalates their system. It shares your emotional reality, which invites connection. And it points towards repair instead of assigning blame. Trauma wants one person to be right and the other to be wrong. Secure functioning says, We're doing this both together. So then you wanna replace fixing with

presence. If your partner starts spiraling, panicking that you're going to leave, getting lost in worst case thinking, or drowning in their shame, your instinct might be to fix it. No, no, no, that's not true. You're amazing. You don't need to feel that way. You're overreacting. I already told you I'm not leaving. Your heart is in the right place, and you're trying to help, but here's the thing.

Trauma doesn't need correction, it needs companionship. What you're actually doing in those moments is dismissing what they're experiencing in their body. So try this shift. That feels really big. I am right here. You're not alone. That old fear that feels so loud right now, I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to believe me right this second. I'll keep showing up.

When someone's trauma is flaring, they're not looking for a solution. They're looking for a signal. Can I fall apart and still be loved? If the answer is yes, that's where healing begins. You wanna keep in mind that their bodies are doing exactly the right thing to keep them safe. It doesn't mean that they need to do that with you, but they do need

to do that and have that work acknowledged rather than dismissed. Then you're gonna encourage emotional risk very gently. Over time, if your partner's doing their work, and this part is key, this doesn't work if they're just refusing any responsibility, you can begin to invite them into small moments of emotional risk. They're not ultimatums or pressure, they're invitations. Let's say your partner tends to shut down

during conflict. After a calm moment, you might say, I noticed you got really quiet earlier. I'm wondering what was happening inside you. If you ever wanna share, I'm here. Or, I miss hearing what you really feel, not just what's safe to say. I know it's scary, and I want you to know I can hold it with you. These aren't one time conversations. They're the scaffolding for something new.

And when your partner does take a risk by staying in the room, by softening their tone, or by trying to repair, please notice it. Name it. Reinforce it. So when my partner and I get into a cycle, often he gets quiet. He goes in. What he needs from me is to get close to him, to provide reassurance, to give him a hug.

But to me, he feels prickly. And all of my stuff that I came in with says, I can't get near that. It's not safe. There was one time that I had the presence to say to myself, okay. He's in a hard place. He needs me to come close to him. And I did. And he made some kind of sarcastic comment.

And then it felt like all the work that I did to push through my own trauma didn't mean anything. We talked about it. We repaired afterwards. But that was a really hard moment for me, and it can be really difficult for your partner to come towards you again if they feel like their hard work isn't being noticed or isn't important. So what you can say is, that was hard,

and you stayed with me. I really felt that. Thank you for telling me what you were feeling. It helps me feel closer to you. I know that wasn't easy. I see the effort you're making. And finally, you wanna be consistent, but you don't have to be perfect. Listen, this is the part that can feel frustrating as hell, especially when you're doing

the work and they're still bracing for pain. But healing doesn't happen in breakthroughs, it happens in these micro moments repeated consistently. It's not about being perfect with your partner. It's about becoming a predictable presence. You say what you mean, you repair when you screw up, you respond with warmth when they expect withdrawal. You show up as you, not a performance of safety.

This is what builds real trust. Not a lecture, not a checklist, but a thousand ordinary moments of staying when it could be easier to run. And this is the beautiful thing. The more they learn to start to trust you, the more they learn to trust themselves in love. That's the transformation. That's the healing arc where you both get to be part of.

You don't have to fix the past to rebuild something beautiful now. You just have to stop reenacting the past. Okay. Since you've made it this far, you're not just curious, you care deeply. You care deeply about your relationship and your partner, and maybe finally about yourself too. Let's anchor this in truth. Loving someone with trauma is not for the faint of heart, but it's also not

some saintly, endless act of patience either. It's a relationship, and relationships are mutual. They require care that flows both ways. Even if one partner's wounds are louder, and even if the trauma is complicated and the cycle has gone on for years, you still get to matter. Let me say that again, in case your nervous system needs to hear it loud and clear. You still get to matter.

And the goal here is not to become trauma proof. It's not to be a therapist and it's not to walk on eggshells forever. The goal is to build something new, something neither of you had growing up, something stronger than fear and more honest than perfection. It won't always be smooth, but it can be real and safe and worth it. This is what I want you to

walk away with today. The cycle is impersonal, it's protective. If you can name it, you can also interrupt it. And compassion doesn't require you to embrace yourself. You can deeply love and still have needs. You don't need perfect words, just honest, regulated presence, especially in the moments when it would just be easier to shut down. Healing is slow, but it is possible.

When people show up, not perfectly, but consistently, it rewires what love feels like. Now I know some of you are listening and thinking, but I have tried all of this. I'm doing everything you're saying and I still feel alone. If that's you, let me be direct. This work cannot be one-sided. If your partner is unwilling to look at their patterns, if they shut you down

every time you speak up, if they're using their trauma to justify treating you poorly, that's not trauma, that's a lack of accountability. And no amount of compassion can compensate for someone who refuses to grow. So part of your healing may be asking, am I loving them in the way they need, or am I abandoning myself in the process? Only you can answer that, but don't answer it alone.

If you think your partner might benefit from hearing this episode, take a risk and share it with them, not as a weapon to say that they're doing something wrong, but as a invitation to have more conversation. Hey, this made me feel really seen. I'd love for you to hear it too. Because sometimes the hardest part of healing is actually believing you're allowed to want more, and you are.

Next week, we're gonna flip the lens. If you're the partner who has trauma, if closeness feels dangerous, if you push people away even when you love them, if you're tired of being the one who shuts down or blows up or braces for pain, then you don't wanna miss it. I'm gonna be talking to you directly. No shame, no pathologizing, just truth, hope, and practical guidance for how to take tiny,

brave steps back into connection without abandoning yourself. It's going to be raw, real, and possibly the beginning of something new. Until then, take care of yourself. You're not broken. You're not failing. You're just learning to love in a world that didn't teach you how. But we're here to change that one conversation at a time. If you want the guided version of this work, my private audio series is linked

in the show notes. You can start anytime. That's it for today's episode of Coupled With. Thank you so much for spending this time with me. If this episode resonated with you, I'd love for you to hit subscribe so you never miss what's next. And if you found it helpful, please share it with a friend or leave a quick rating and review. It really helps more than you know.

And if you're curious about how we might work together, or want more resources to strengthen your relationship, head over to my website, www.drachaelorlich.com. You'll find free tools, podcast extras, and ways to go deeper. Thanks again for listening and I'll see you next time.