the confusing art of leaving before it breaks you

I’ve come to believe that anxious vs. avoidant attachment isn’t just trauma, it’s sacred protection. It’s your nervous system remembering what your mind keeps trying to forget. It’s your soul screaming “we’ve been here before.”

And here’s what no one tells you when you start “doing the work”:

The right relationship won’t give you butterflies.
It’ll give you peace.
It won’t light up your trauma.
It’ll let your nervous system exhale.
It won’t feel like a high, it’ll feel like coming down.

And when you’re used to love feeling like survival, calm can feel boring.
Untriggered can feel empty.
Unchaotic can feel wrong.
But that’s not sabotage.
That’s just your body learning what safety actually feels like.

Still, triggers are real. And important.
Not because they mean someone’s wrong for you, but because they highlight the places where you still need healing.
A trigger is just a neon sign that says “here’s where you’ve been hurt.”
It’s not always a warning to run, sometimes it’s an invitation to stay… and finally do the work.
To stay with yourself.
To hold the wound.
To remind that younger version of you that they’re safe now.

Healing isn’t about avoiding all discomfort.
It’s learning to sit with it, without losing yourself in it.

So how do you know when you’re running from love, or being rerouted away from a repeat of your wounds?

Check who’s driving.
Is it your inner child, afraid they’re too much to be loved?
Is it your hyper-independent ego, terrified of being seen?
Or is it your higher self, the version of you that’s healed enough to know peace when she sees it?

Because not everyone who feels like love is actually safe.
And not everyone who feels safe is boring.

So maybe the next time you feel the urge to leave something good, pause.
Ask: Is this a red flag… or just a new color I haven’t learned to trust yet?