Stand Up For What Your Soul Knows You Need (4-Video Compilation)

After reading hundreds of messages from people who follow this channel, certain recurring patterns stand out. One particularly alarming sign that someone is unraveling in an unhappy partnership is when they spend their letter describing how wonderful their partner is, then recount that partner’s past, their traumas, family history — all leading up to a confession that the partner is treating them badly now. Trauma can help explain why a person might cheat, stonewall, or behave cruelly, but it does not excuse those actions. Calling it “trauma” can sometimes become a way to rationalize and soften the reality — a means of convincing yourself that the mistreatment is acceptable and you must keep enduring it.
Today’s letter comes from a man who says his girlfriend’s trauma-related wounds are harming their relationship. He writes: “Hello Fairy — I’m a 33-year-old man, my girlfriend is 32, and we’ve been together for a year and two months. We live together, and I proposed three months ago because I truly believed things would be great between us.” I’ll mark a few things I want to return to, but let’s walk through David’s story to see what’s happening.
She’s an architect — bright, bookish, disciplined, with a solid career. She’s cool, though some of her friends are a bit eccentric; he likes them anyway. Her childhood was difficult: an emotionally distant, controlling father who didn’t care for her, and an overly clingy, helicopter-style mother. The parents divorced and she cut off contact with her father. All these details foreshadow why she struggles to express emotion or show love; he realized after a while that she had built up defenses because displaying emotion previously triggered harm from her father.
He’s an artist and graphic designer, currently looking for a new job after losing his last one a month ago. He has a loving family — his parents are together and happy, and he has siblings. Like everyone, he’s experienced his own challenges and traumas, but most he has addressed through therapy and self-reflection.
Their relationship began on Tinder, which he notes awkwardly but acknowledges as a modern reality. The early months felt fantastic: they connected deeply through messages, sexting, and passionate intimacy. She shared details of her childhood, he met her friends, and they took a short trip — all positive. But around month three or four she mentioned a man she considers a father figure, which made him uneasy. Later he discovered, through info from her and her friends, and screenshots on her computer while they looked at pictures, that she had been romantically and sexually involved with that man for a month or two when he was visiting the country. That man happens to be married with two children, and according to David, he and the girlfriend had an ongoing five-or-six-year communication history, including sexting.
David felt threatened by a third person lingering in their lives. He set a boundary: it’s either him or the man. She initially chose him, then eventually cut contact after conflict, but she repeatedly tried to find ways to stay in touch or persuade him to accept the other man’s friendship. David says he couldn’t tolerate that; it violated his boundary. Once he even noticed a notification from the man on her work phone and she switched screens, as if to hide it. David also reveals he’d been cheated on in a seven-year relationship prior to this one, so infidelity is a trauma for him — he’s aware of that and is working on it in therapy.
After she severed contact, she became depressed. Their sex life dwindled, moods soured, and arguments became frequent — about every three days, often over seemingly small issues. Over time he’s seen she can be selfish and emotionally distant. Trust between them has eroded: his trust remains somewhat intact, hers is mostly gone. She constantly accuses him of snooping, being controlling, or stalking, so even casual questions like “How was your day?” feel fraught. Yet on paper she’s a wonderful person — everything he’s wanted in a partner. They attended couples therapy, and the therapist reportedly sided with many of his observations, saying she reflects her childhood wounds onto him. The therapist mentioned she has CPTSD and suggested people with that condition may cling to emotionally unavailable partners — which might explain some patterns, but not why she continued secret contact that harmed the current relationship.
She’s now depressed because she’s lost a friend and anxious about their future together; she fears he might be a bad husband even though, rationally, she thinks he’d be good. Her mother and friends seem to take David’s side, which surprised him. She’s exhausted and resistant to further therapy. David wants to give the relationship another chance: they have many shared interests, and he’s never felt this way about someone. He’s tried many remedies — improved communication, being present, planning dates and trips, showing affection, shared therapy, doing chores to reduce her stress — but the cycle of fighting continues. He asks for anonymous help, hoping to rebuild trust, love, mutual support, and maybe help her heal or manage her trauma. He apologizes for any grammar issues and says she watches this channel and would appreciate the guidance.
Reading this, it seems clear that getting married right now would be premature. You might not have to leave immediately, but the relationship has advanced faster than its readiness for such a step. Living together and proposing can create pressure to move forward, even while numerous warning signs are flashing that they’re not prepared for marriage.
One notable pattern in his letter is the imbalance of introspection: there’s a lot of description about her history and behavior, but little insight about himself. That tendency is common for people reluctant to leave a relationship. Couples counseling can sometimes provide a vocabulary that enables a person to rationalize problematic behavior with psychological terminology — explaining away hurtful actions as “trauma,” rather than taking responsibility or changing.
Regarding the man in her life: she had an affair with him while he was married, and they continued communication. That history is significant. If you’re uncomfortable with someone in your partner’s life, it’s entirely reasonable. The boundary David tried to set — “you choose me or him” — was not enforced strongly if she merely promised to cut contact but continued to maintain ties or hid interactions. A true boundary is a line you’re willing to act on, even if that means ending the relationship. It’s also true that some people can maintain purely platonic friendships with exes or other men, but secrecy, secrecy from the spouse or the other man’s family, and retained sexual messages suggest the relationship was more than innocent. That indicates she may not be fully emotionally available.
Saying “she has trauma” can explain her behavior, but it doesn’t make the choices acceptable. Trauma can make it difficult to set limits around harmful relationships because attachment wounds can lead someone to chase emotionally unavailable people. Meanwhile, you describe being drawn to someone who is treating you unacceptably. You’ve set a boundary, your counselor and friends agree with you, but she isn’t changing and remains suspicious of you. Sometimes it helps to see the situation from her perspective: she may believe you snooped, even if you didn’t, and that sense of being investigated can trigger defensive behavior. Whether you snooped or not, the pattern of her secrecy looks like someone hiding something.
Even if her contact with that man were “just friendship,” the key issue is her unwillingness to adjust her life when it upsets you. If a partner’s actions cause repeated distress and they don’t alter themselves, that’s a red flag for long-term commitment. Also, issuing demands early in a relationship (three or four months in) to sever friendships can be premature — reasonable people sometimes accept gentle boundaries rather than ultimatums. But when someone persists in behaviors that hurt you despite knowing your discomfort, they demonstrate they might not be ready for the trust and compromise required in marriage.
Many letters arrive from people trying to assess whether their relationship can survive long-term troubles. Being hurt by a partner does not automatically make you right about everything; it’s always worth asking how things truly are in the relationship and whether those realities are tolerable. If a relationship feels persistently anxious — like being on alert for infidelity or feeling emotionally unsafe — that’s not a good sign. It might not mean the person is irredeemable, but it does mean neither of you is ready for the next step.
One practical suggestion is to be honest with each other about any remaining secrets before getting married. A trusted piece of advice someone gave the narrator and their husband before marriage was to confess anything withheld so each person knew what they were committing to. Laying secrets on the table can be painful but clarifying. After four years of dating, engagement, counseling, and two more years until marriage, they had the time and clarity to make that commitment more securely. Entering marriage with significant unknowns or unresolved fears sets up a fragile foundation.
So: pause the wedding plans. This isn’t about ending the relationship immediately, but it is about making sure the idea of marriage is off the table while you evaluate whether this partnership can truly provide what you both need. People who grew up emotionally neglected often set their expectations low and rush into commitments because they can’t quite imagine a healthier alternative. It helps to clearly define the qualities you want in a partner and to hold those standards so you avoid needless heartbreak.
Below are 12 markers to notice when you first meet someone. They may seem obvious, but many of us have let these signals go unaddressed and paid dearly later. If any of these sound familiar, reflect on them honestly. (There’s also a PDF of these points available for download, with a link provided at the end of the video.):
1) You feel romantic attraction and they reciprocate in some discernible way. This can be through seeking conversation, making eye contact, smiling, showing genuine interest, and making an effort to keep the interaction alive.
2) They aren’t already involved with someone else. It’s perfectly reasonable to clarify this early; asking whether someone is in a relationship simply saves embarrassment and helps you decide how to proceed.
3) They clarify whether a meetup is intended as a date. If you’re unsure whether the other person sees an encounter as a romantic date, get clarity before repeating meetings. If they don’t make the intention clear after one or two meetings, don’t assume and don’t keep investing.
4) They show curiosity about you. A person genuinely interested in a relationship asks about you, listens, and makes getting to know you their priority — they don’t dominate the conversation with themselves or irrelevant topics.
5) They actually hear you. Listening means understanding and engaging with what you’ve said, not just taking turns with surface-level questions.
6) They make their interest obvious. Healthy people minimize limbo — if they are into you, they’ll let you know within a reasonable time frame. Avoid wasting emotional energy on someone who leaves you guessing.
7) They are transparent about themselves and their goals. A person who immediately launches into long rants about exes or tragic stories may still be in healing mode and not ready for a new serious relationship. By the third date you should have a sense of essential compatibility, like whether they want marriage or children.
8) They are logistically available. They should live nearby, have the time, and not be entangled in situations that prevent commitment — such as an ex living in their home, a job that keeps them away, or plans to move overseas imminently.
9) They treat others with kindness and respect — servers, other drivers, strangers, animals. Their behavior toward others reveals much about their character and capacity to be a good partner.
10) They are honest. If a bill is short a dessert, they’ll tell the staff. If you ask them questions about their life, they answer without evasiveness.
11) They are reliable with plans. They confirm and keep agreements, show up when they say they will, and communicate promptly if plans change so you’re not left wondering whether an invitation was real or casual.
12) Being around them lifts you up. Beyond excitement or relief at not being lonely, a good match energizes you, bolsters your self-esteem, and inspires you to be more of who you want to be. Ideally they feel that way around you, too.
Healing from trauma can make it possible to form the kind of relationships you truly want. Clarity about your desires, a supportive community, and effective tools to address trauma wounds are essential. Childhood neglect and abuse often leave people bouncing between solitude and unhealthy partnerships — a pattern experienced by many with childhood PTSD. It’s common to be surprised by blind spots: someone seems perfect at first, promises abound, and then comes betrayal or disappointment, yet many stay because ending the relationship or being alone triggers old abandonment fears. That choice often costs years of life. But when a relationship with the wrong person ends, it can become a powerful opportunity to heal and move toward the right person.
Before searching for someone new, focus on making your “cab light” shine brighter. Think of the taxi indicator: when it’s on, the cab is available; when it’s off, it’s taken. Your cab light is the attractor signal that tells the right kind of partner you’re ready and available. If your cab light is dim or broken, you might be visible only to people who are unhealthy, uncommitted, or inappropriate for you. A functioning cab light sends clear signals about who you are and what you want, and healthy people look for those signals.
If you grew up with trauma — abuse, abandonment, denigration, scarcity, or danger — these experiences can leave lingering wounds, blind spots, low self-worth, and sensitivities. Those traces can leak into your presence and the signals you give off. If you want a family, you’ll need to attract someone who also wants family and is capable of supporting it. If you want a marriage, you’ll attract someone who’s available and willing to commit. If you keep getting entangled with people who can’t meet your needs, ask what messages about yourself you’re unintentionally broadcasting. This is the work of healing: restoring the clarity and confidence that allow you to attract the people you genuinely want.
Common barriers that dim your cab light include being stuck in an unhappy relationship, addictions (drugs, alcohol, porn), carrying a lot of anger, and persistent drama or conflict. These traits change your energy and deter healthy partners. Other light-dampening behaviors are staying too connected to exes, being caught in casual relationships with an eye to “discard if someone better arrives,” or having one foot perpetually in another entanglement. Healthy people sense these signals and look elsewhere.
People with difficult childhoods can have wonderful relationships — but it often takes deliberate healing. Some patterns of self-sabotage, like pushing away someone who’s genuinely loving, are common among survivors of neglect and abuse. A letter from “Lissa” illustrates this: she’s been in love with a kind man for years, but her childhood — raised by an alcoholic mother and drug-addicted father, forced to act as caregiver — left her deeply wounded. Her romantic history includes a 14-year loveless marriage and subsequent relationships with unreliable or abusive partners. Now, at 44, she’s dating a man who makes her feel calm but also triggers intense nervousness; she’s broken up with him repeatedly despite deep feelings and anxiety around intimacy.
Lissa also struggles with alcohol and smoking, both coping mechanisms she relies on when alone. She has tried to stop drinking using resources like Allen Carr’s book and online groups, but it’s been very hard. She runs a convenience store and sells liquor, so leaving that environment isn’t a simple option — her employees and customers are like family. She wonders how to stop pushing love away, to be mentally healthy for a serious relationship, and how to move past her fear.
The response to her is empathy and practical guidance. Her upbringing — being cared for by a mother who drank and a father who left, sleeping in chairs at a bar while the mother worked late shifts — understandably produced wounds that affect her ability to relax into love. She’s achieved a lot: running a store, caring for her brother, and seeking healing. But the missing element right now is sobriety. A recommended path is to seek recovery communities like AA, which offer not only tools but social support and examples from people who’ve been through similar struggles. While programs like Allen Carr’s may help some, AA provides a sense of community and lived experience that many find essential. Finding meetings that are constructive, getting a sponsor, and working the steps seriously can change the way sobriety supports a relationship. Also, it’s common to prioritize alcohol recovery first and address cigarettes later.
Practical relationship advice for someone like Lissa includes not cohabiting right away — maintain separate households for a while. People with trauma often need safe spaces they can retreat to; living apart helps avoid becoming overwhelmed. The technique of “titration” — giving a little at a time — can work well: keep dates limited in number and length, avoid all-day texting, structure contact, and slow down sexual intimacy until you can handle it without retraumatization. Build a social network and tribe that supports both of you. Isolation as a couple is risky; having friends and other couples who know you and can help stabilize conflict is protective.
If alcohol is an issue, seriously pursue sobriety with community support. There are many forms of 12-step work and related groups; sampling different meetings and finding supportive sober friends can help you rebuild a life in which love won’t trigger self-sabotage as easily. Therapy, couples counseling, and group support all help. Take things slowly, build a secure foundation, avoid moving in too soon, and ensure you have community backing you as a couple.
Ultimately, both partners in these stories show trauma-related wounds and fears of intimacy. With intentional pacing, honest communication, boundaries that are enforced, sobriety if needed, and a strong support network, it’s possible to form a healthier partnership. Until such groundwork exists, postpone lifetime commitments like marriage and focus on healing and clear-eyed decisions so that when you do commit, it’s from a place of strength and mutual readiness. [Music]