Living with CPTSD means relationships, whether romantic or platonic, can be both incredibly comforting and completely overwhelming. On one hand, I have always craved closeness, connection, the sense of warmth and safety. But on the other, the idea of losing that felt like the worst thing ever.

Detachment, to me, has never been as simple as stepping back. It’s been tangled in fear, in past wounds, in this deep, aching belief that if I let go, I’ve lost something I needed.

And honestly, that fear? It’s been exhausting. It has taken up so much mental energy, and I have hated how it made me feel.

It felt like an endless tug-of-war.

The Fear of Being Left Behind

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been scared of being left behind. When your earliest experiences with love are mixed with pain, betrayal, or neglect, it does something to you. You start to believe that love is fragile, something you have to fight for, or cling to, or constantly prove you’re worthy of.

So that’s what I did. I clung. Hard.

If someone showed me kindness, I latched on. It felt validating. Even when my gut told me things weren’t quite right, I stayed. I thought if I just tried hard enough, loved hard enough, I could make it work. I didn’t want to lose them.

But deep down, there was this thought I couldn’t ignore: If they go, I’m not enough.

Real Love Doesn’t Ask You to Shrink

Here’s the thing I’m learning: real, grounded love doesn’t ask me to abandon myself. It doesn’t demand that I ignore my gut or shrink to keep the peace. It invites me to be present, even when I’m scared. Especially when I’m scared.

Lately, I’ve been trying something new. Instead of diving into that panicked “fix it” mode, I’m pausing. When I feel that tight grip in my chest, the urge to chase, prove, or fix, I try to take a moment. I ask myself: Is this love, or is this fear talking? Sometimes the answer is tough, but at least it’s honest.

You Don’t Have to Earn Love

I’m slowly starting to realize I don’t have to earn love by performing for it. I don’t have to twist myself into someone else’s idea of “enough.” The people who are meant to be in my life won’t need me to sacrifice my peace to keep them. They’ll want to build peace with me, and most importantly? They’ll accept me exactly as I am.

That doesn’t mean the fear magically disappears. It doesn’t. Attachment still feels like standing too close to the edge some days. But now, I’m learning to hold my own hand. I’m learning to trust myself in ways I didn’t before. And that’s where real safety begins.

It’s not about someone else staying. It’s about knowing I won’t abandon myself, no matter who comes or goes.

Photo by Bharath Kumar on Unsplash