Why You Miss the Person Who Hurt You: The Science of Trauma Bonds
If you’ve ever left someone toxic and then found yourself missing them, you know the sick mix of emotions that comes with it.
It’s confusing. It’s humiliating. It’s maddening.
You replay the worst things they did in your head, and you still feel the tug. You catch yourself craving their voice, their attention, even their presence. And then you hate yourself for it.
You think: What the hell is wrong with me? How can I miss the person who ruined me?
Here’s the truth: nothing is wrong with you. Missing them doesn’t mean you’re weak. It doesn’t mean you want the abuse back. It doesn’t even mean you loved them.
It means you’re human. And your nervous system is still detoxing.
This is what psychologists call a trauma bond. And once you understand it, you’ll stop blaming yourself for feelings that aren’t proof of weakness — they’re proof of wiring.
What a Trauma Bond Actually Is
A trauma bond forms when abuse is mixed with moments of affection, kindness, or attention. It’s the cycle:
They hurt you.
They comfort you.
They hurt you again.
They comfort you again.
It’s a push-pull, punishment-reward cycle that your body gets addicted to.
Think about how it feels when someone insults you, withdraws love, or explodes at you. Your body goes into survival mode — stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline flood your system. Then, just when you’re drowning, they flip. Suddenly they’re soft. They’re apologizing. They’re holding you. They’re promising it’ll never happen again.
That shift is relief. It feels like calm after a storm. And your brain locks that memory in because it felt like survival.
Over time, you stop seeing them clearly. You don’t see the harm by itself. You see the harm tied to relief. Pain tied to comfort. Abuse tied to love.
That’s not love. That’s a trauma bond.
Why It Feels Addictive
Trauma bonds are addictive because they hijack your reward system.
When they abuse you, your stress response spikes. When they comfort you, your brain releases dopamine and oxytocin — the same chemicals tied to pleasure, bonding, and connection.
That hit of relief is powerful. It’s the same pattern slot machines use: chaos, then random reward. Intermittent reinforcement is proven to create the strongest kind of behavioral conditioning. It hooks you deeper than consistency ever could.
That’s why you don’t just miss them — you crave them. The same way an addict craves a drug they know is destroying them.
Your body is chasing the high of calm after the storm.
The Brain Doesn’t Care About “Good For You”
This is the cruel part.
Your brain doesn’t ask if this person is healthy for you. It doesn’t sit down and weigh pros and cons like a spreadsheet. It’s primitive. It’s wired for survival.
The question your brain is asking is: Who gives me the strongest chemical hits?
And the toxic person does. Because they create the chaos, and then they create the relief. They are the storm and the rescue.
That’s why you can miss them even after betrayal. Even after insults. Even after being gaslit into doubting your own reality.
It’s not because they were good. It’s because your nervous system remembers the temporary relief that came after the chaos.
Why Survivors Feel Guilty
One of the hardest parts of leaving a toxic relationship is that you expect freedom to feel like freedom.
You think you’ll walk away and finally breathe. But what often happens is the opposite. You leave, and then you start missing them. Not just a little — sometimes so much it makes you want to crawl back.
And then the guilt sets in.
How can I miss them after what they did?
What does this say about me?
Am I broken?
On top of that, many abusers condition you to believe no one else will ever want you. They drill it into your head: You’re too much. You’re impossible. No one else would put up with you.
So when you catch yourself missing them, it feels like maybe they were right.
But they weren’t. Missing them isn’t proof you need them. It’s proof your nervous system is detoxing from them.
Why “Just Move On” Doesn’t Work
If you’ve ever confessed to missing someone toxic, you’ve probably heard the most useless advice in the world: “Just move on.”
Here’s why that doesn’t work.
Leaving a normal relationship is about grieving memories and routines. Leaving a trauma bond is about breaking a neurological loop.
That loop is carved into your brain through repetition. Hurt → comfort → hurt → comfort. Over and over until your body gets addicted to the cycle.
That doesn’t dissolve just because you walk away. It has to be rewired. And rewiring doesn’t happen overnight.
It’s not about “being strong.” It’s about giving your nervous system time to relearn safety without them.
Why You Romanticize the Good Moments
When you leave, your brain often starts replaying the “good times.” The vacations. The laughter. The nights you felt close.
Why? Because your brain is wired to seek reward, and those moments felt like reward.
Here’s the kicker: those moments weren’t separate from the abuse. They were part of the abuse. They were bait. They were how the cycle kept you hooked.
It’s not that the good moments weren’t real. It’s that they came at a cost. A cost you couldn’t see clearly until you stepped outside the cycle.
What Trauma Bonds Do to Identity
This is where trauma bonds go deeper than heartbreak — they erode identity.
When someone manipulates you long enough, you stop trusting yourself. You start doubting your memory. You start questioning your instincts. You get trained to see yourself through their eyes.
That’s not just emotional damage. That’s neurological hijacking. It’s like malware installed in your operating system.
And when you finally leave, you’re not just missing them. You’re missing the version of you that existed before them. The one who trusted yourself. The one who didn’t flinch at shadows.
Healing a trauma bond isn’t just about cutting them out. It’s about slowly rebuilding trust in yourself.
The Detox Process
Breaking a trauma bond feels like detoxing from a drug.
You go through withdrawal. Cravings. Restlessness. Emotional shakes.
You don’t miss the abuser. You miss the relief your nervous system felt when they finally threw you crumbs of affection.
This is why so many survivors relapse. Not because they want the abuse back, but because they want the withdrawal to stop.
And relapse doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means the bond was strong. And every time you resist going back, you’re rewiring your brain one step further away from them.
Why Silence Hurts the Most
One of the cruelest parts of trauma bonds is how isolating they are.
You can’t exactly text a friend, “I miss my abuser today.” You can’t always say out loud, “I want to call the person who destroyed me.”
So you keep it inside. And the silence convinces you you’re alone.
But you’re not.
Every survivor of abuse goes through this tug-of-war. Missing the person who caused the wound is part of healing the wound.
You’re not the only one.
The Science of Rewiring
The good news is that the brain can rewire.
Every time you resist the urge to text them, you weaken the bond. Every time you ground yourself, reach out to someone safe, or choose a healthier coping mechanism, you build new pathways.
Neuroplasticity — the brain’s ability to rewire itself — is what allows healing. It’s why therapy works. It’s why journaling, meditation, connection, and small acts of self-trust matter.
It doesn’t feel fast. It doesn’t feel dramatic. But slowly, step by step, your nervous system learns that peace can exist without chaos.
And that’s when the cravings start to fade.
My Truth
I’ve missed people who tried to destroy me. I’ve stared at my phone, itching to text them. I’ve replayed the good memories and wondered if I was crazy for walking away.
And I’ve hated myself for it.
But I know now: missing them wasn’t proof I loved them. It wasn’t proof I needed them. It wasn’t proof they were right about me.
It was proof I was detoxing. And detox takes time.
The Bottom Line
If you’re missing someone who hurt you, hear me clearly:
You’re not weak.
You’re not broken.
You’re not crazy.
You’re experiencing a trauma bond.
And trauma bonds don’t vanish. They unravel slowly, like pulling barbed wire out of your chest.
But every day you don’t go back, you reclaim a little more of yourself.
Missing them doesn’t mean you need them. It means you’re healing from them.
— Cody Taymore
Kill The Silence
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