The Brutal TRUTH About Relationships You Need To Hear

Everything regrettable I ever did came out of being lonely. Maybe you’ve felt the same. One of the riskiest moments in relationships is right after the loneliness lifts and a new romance is born. The shift from having no one to suddenly being head over heels for somebody — they become your whole world — creates a sharp emotional contrast. That’s the hard truth about relationships you need to hear. During that window your thinking gets foggy. It’s a potent mix of desire, old hurt, and wishful thinking about an ideal partnership, and for people carrying trauma it can create the illusion that everything is finally going to be all right. That sense of relief we’ve longed for is intoxicating, but it’s also premature: once a new relationship begins, many aspects of your life instantly become delicate. Twelve-step groups have a blunt way of putting it — a new romance is like pouring miracle grow on your character flaws. When that fertilizer kicks in, old wounds often surface more intensely. There are ways to prevent that from wrecking your relationship, or at least to stop it from sinking things entirely. My mail today comes from a man I’ll call Charles. He writes: “Hello, Anna. I met a young woman, let’s call her Lisa, at my church four years ago. I was married at the time — 26 years.” I’ll circle a few things to return to on a second read, but first let’s go through the story and see what’s happening in Charles’s life. Lisa is a single mother; both she and her daughter moved me. Over time she began to open up about a past filled with emotional abuse and abandonment. As our conversations deepened, she shared more: struggles with drugs and alcohol and a history of sexual promiscuity tied to her complex PTSD. After her daughter was born she withdrew for nine years, but later sought God and became a committed churchgoer. Here’s the more intense part. She confided one day that she felt incapable of loving anyone. I disagreed. I told her that without love you can’t really know God, because God is love. I would send her resources — my videos and other articles — to point out that she already loved her daughter and that was evidence she could love another person. As for me, my marriage had been with a narcissist who stopped showing love soon after we wed, but I honored my vows and stayed. Long story short, I fell for Lisa, pursued her, and she began to respond. She warned that she would push me away like she had other suitors; she tried a few times, but I stayed persistent, eventually leaving my wife and committing to Lisa. In the last few months she’s shown me more affection than my ex did in thirty years of marriage. Your videos have helped me a lot to understand PTSD — they taught me to spot when she’s about to dysregulate, what to do in those moments, and how to help her settle again. Lisa is grateful, loving, and devoted, which is a kind of devotion I’m not used to and it makes me doubt whether it’s genuine. I’ve asked her to marry me. I feel we could make it work, but I’ve been in the throes of limerence for the past six months and want cooler heads to prevail. Based on this limited information, what do you think?” — Charles. Here’s the blunt reality about relationships, especially when trauma is involved: the early thrill of falling in love — and the sexual intensity that usually accompanies it — floods your brain with hormones and undermines clear thinking. If you were married to a narcissist for 26 years and left via an affair, that’s a warning sign about how well you’re making decisions right now. I’m not saying this can’t succeed, but choices like marriage demand time and a clear, sober mind — exactly what “cooler heads” would provide. Six months is far too brief for such a life-changing commitment. Some people rush into it, but that’s usually unwise, particularly for a second marriage and when the partner has a history of substance misuse. There’s no pressing reason to hurry into marriage. Let’s revisit what you told me: your attraction started when you first met her while married; then she disclosed a history of emotional abuse and abandonment, followed by substance misuse and sexual behavior linked to her complex PTSD. Those are significant issues. If someone isn’t continuously and firmly established in long-term recovery, entering a relationship with them is very risky. Addiction carries a relapse risk you can only honestly assess by facing it squarely. I strongly suggest you connect with a 12-step support group like Al-Anon, which helps family and friends of people with alcohol problems — because even if someone is sober, their past still matters. Many of the behaviors you describe mirror the patterns Al-Anon addresses. I don’t know your childhood story, but staying 26 years in a marriage with a narcissist leaves its own wounds. Narcs and active alcoholism aren’t the same, but they share effects: you don’t get your needs met, you end up walking on eggshells, and you learn to deprioritize your own wellbeing to “manage” the other person. That dynamic is what I call outsourcing your responsibility for happiness — handing your healing over to someone else. I’m seeing that pattern strongly here. I’m not hearing much about what you’re doing for your own recovery. It would understandably feel amazing to be loved back after a loveless marriage, but the moment someone says, “I’m incapable of loving anyone,” you should slow down and take a big step back. Don’t try to prop them up with videos, articles, or your persuasion — that’s a common codependent move. When we’re romantically involved with someone we start trying to fix them, to shape them into the ideal version we want. Even with good intentions, that approach often backfires and can breed resentment. People change out of their own readiness and motivation, not because we convince them to. So that’s another red flag: she claims she can’t love, she has a history of substance misuse, and she’s a single parent. Bringing yourself into that dynamic can deeply affect a child if things destabilize. Slow is your ally here. Gradual, careful steps let you actually observe who she is — her strengths and her vulnerabilities — without trying to manufacture a different person. This isn’t about judging; it’s about learning whether getting closer makes sense for both of you. A quick marriage is often a fantasy fix, a way to force a mismatched life to fit (what some call “crap fitting”). You don’t need to solve the discomfort by signing paperwork. Time is needed to reveal how she responds to pressure, whether she’s genuinely committed to change, and what kind of partner she wants to be. Let her show you her intentions instead of persuading her to be someone else. This story has a bit of the “rescuer” narrative — the hero who swoops in to save someone and is then surprised when real life doesn’t follow the fairy tale — so resist that impulse. See her clearly, as she is, and watch how she wants to live and what she chooses to work on. It’s also wise to pursue counseling before making such a big decision; your church may offer discernment or couple’s counseling, which can be helpful, though spiritual communities sometimes unintentionally minimize complexities. Don’t rely on isolation to judge this; seek rigorous, honest feedback and be your own advocate. You may no longer be in limerence — you might be in a phase of magical thinking — and the line between the two matters. When she insists she can’t love, she may be signaling something she understands about herself better than anyone else. Over time you can see whether she relaxes into love and whether her actions match her words. Pay attention to how her behavior makes you feel: if the relationship keeps you in a state of anxiety or requires constant fixing, it may not be a fit. If you’re watching content about trauma and wondering if past wounds are shaping your present, there are signs that childhood neglect or abuse can influence adult difficulties; recognizing that helps normalize your struggle and opens the door to healing. Your immediate task is to care for yourself and work on your own recovery. Spending 26 years with a narcissist creates deep harm — study and counseling about narcissistic abuse can help you reclaim yourself. Don’t bring unresolved baggage straight into a new partnership; there’s always some leftover pain from long-term trauma, and it’s important to address it. It’s easy to think, “They were the narcissist, I was the reasonable one,” but remember there are reasons you stayed so long. Be sober and realistic before making legal, financial, and emotional commitments that will affect you and a child. You can’t promise a lifelong partnership while parts of your awareness are still in denial. That’s why counseling is so important. This is the stark truth: trauma can trick our minds into seeing a flawless relationship where much remains unaddressed. Give yourselves time to deal with the real issues before making any lasting commitments. If you want to explore more material on this, there are additional videos and resources that dive into these themes. Finally — beware of giving your whole life to someone who keeps telling you, “I’m not into you that way.” That pattern often turns a person into a codependent sponge, absorbing rejection and trying harder and harder. Take care of yourself and take your time. [Music]

Practical next steps and additional points to consider:

• Give it time: aim to slow the process down intentionally. Many clinicians suggest waiting at least 12–18 months of stable, observably healthy behavior before making a lifetime legal commitment when substance misuse, PTSD, or recent major life upheaval are present.
• Watch actions, not promises: sustained recovery looks like consistent routines — regular therapy, attendance at recovery/support meetings, a sponsor or accountability structure, steady work or volunteering, and routine parenting responsibilities. Words of love mean less than reliable daily behavior under stress.
• Look for evidence of relapse prevention: a clear, honest discussion about relapse history and a written or mutually understood relapse plan (who to call, where they will go, what consequences will follow) is a practical safety measure for both partners and the child.
• Protect practical interests: keep finances separate until you’ve had time to assess long-term compatibility; consider consulting a lawyer about asset protection or a prenuptial agreement. Don’t sign joint leases, mortgages, or major legal commitments until you’ve tested the relationship in everyday conditions.
• Prioritize your recovery: continue individual therapy focused on narcissistic abuse, grief, codependency, and making healthy attachment choices. Groups like Al‑Anon, CoDA (Codependents Anonymous), or faith-based support communities can provide perspective and guardrails.
• Engage trauma‑informed professionals: choose therapists experienced with complex PTSD and addiction for both individual and couples work. EMDR, somatic therapies, and CBT can be helpful tools for trauma processing; couples therapy should be with someone skilled in attachment and relapse dynamics.
• Slowly integrate roles with the child: avoid rapid family merging. Observe how she parents during stress, illness, and financial strain. Protect the child from adult conflicts and do not become the “fixer” of parenting problems without clear boundaries and agreement with the child’s other parent when possible.
• Set and keep clear boundaries: identify non-negotiables (no active substance use in the home, agreed consequences for relapse, boundaries around communication timing) and be ready to enforce them. Practice “I” statements, time-outs for dysregulation, and pre-agreed de-escalation methods.
• Test fidelity to change under pressure: travel, sickness, job loss, and family conflict are revealing moments. Watch how she responds when life becomes inconvenient — does she seek help, hide, or revert to old patterns?
• Keep social supports active: maintain friendships, church community, and activities outside the couple. Isolation increases risk of idealization and codependence.
• Watch these red flags: repeated broken promises without taking accountability, secretive behavior with finances or substances, gaslighting or minimization of your concerns, avoidance of therapy or accountability, and sexual or emotional coercion. If these appear, re-evaluate quickly.
• Plan practical safety and contingency steps: know where you’d go, who you’d call, and how you’d protect finances and the child if instability returns. That planning is not pessimism — it’s sober preparation.

Questions to ask (to yourself and, gently, to her) over the coming months:

• How long has she been continuously sober, and what does recovery look like day to day?
• Who supports her in recovery (sponsor, therapist, recovery group)?
• How does she respond when she’s reminded of her past triggers — does she seek help or withdraw or blame others?
• What parenting plans and boundaries are in place for the child, and how do co‑parents or family members view the situation?
• How do we handle finances, housing, and legal responsibilities under stress?

In short: be compassionate but realistic. You can love someone and still recognize that you’re not ready to merge lives legally and financially. Time, consistent behavior, professional help, and honest boundaries are the best antidote to limerence and to the “miracle grow” effect that accelerates old wounds. Do the internal work — reclaim your needs, test the relationship under ordinary and hard conditions, and let evidence build before you make irreversible decisions. That disciplined approach protects you, the child, and the possibility of a genuinely healthy future together.