Why Do We Still Love the People Who Hurt Us?

Understanding Trauma Bonds, Complicated Love, and the Grief That Comes With Surviving Abuse

By Shannon Brown | Author, Survivor & Advocate

There is something I have been sitting with for a very long time. Something that has taken years of reflection, therapy, writing, and healing to even begin to understand.

I still have love for my step dad. Even after everything he did to me. Even after the abuse, the fear, the pain, and the childhood experiences that would follow me well into adulthood. And admitting that is complicated.

Because how do you explain loving someone who hurt you? How do you reconcile the good memories with the terrible ones? How do you hold affection for someone whose actions caused wounds you are still working to heal?

For a long time, I struggled to understand those feelings. But something I have learned through my healing journey is that two seemingly contradictory truths can exist at the same time.

I can remember the good. I can acknowledge the love. And I can still recognize that what happened to me was abuse. One does not cancel out the other.

There Were Good Times, Too

When people hear about childhood abuse, they often imagine a relationship filled entirely with fear, cruelty, and darkness. But the reality can be much more complicated.

My stepdad wasn't cruel every moment of every day. There were good times. He taught me about tools. He showed me how things worked and shared knowledge that has stayed with me into adulthood.

He took me deep-sea fishing. We had adventures, experiences, and moments that became genuine childhood memories.

There were times we laughed. Times we enjoyed being together. Times when I experienced pieces of the father-daughter relationship I wanted so badly.

Those moments were real. They happened. And some of them are memories I still treasure. But here is something incredibly important that I have had to learn:

The good memories do not excuse the abuse.

Teaching me something valuable did not give him permission to hurt me. Taking me fishing did not erase the fear I experienced at home. Sharing happy moments did not undo the damage caused by the painful ones.

I can appreciate something he taught me without forgiving what he did. I can remember a good day without pretending the bad days never happened. And I can acknowledge that he was capable of kindness while also acknowledging that he was responsible for his cruelty.

That distinction has been an important part of my healing.

Why Do Survivors Still Love Someone Who Abused Them?

This is a question that deserves far more understanding and far less judgment. People sometimes assume that once someone recognizes abuse, their love for the person responsible should simply disappear.

But human attachment doesn't work that way. Love isn't a switch we can turn off when someone hurts us. Especially when the person who caused the harm was also someone we depended on, trusted, or looked to for affection and security.

For children, this can be particularly complicated. Children naturally seek connection with their caregivers. They depend on adults for safety, guidance, comfort, and belonging. When a caregiver is also a source of fear, a child can experience deeply conflicting emotions.

They may love that person. They may fear that person. They may desperately want their approval. They may believe that if they behave differently, work harder, or become exactly what that adult wants, the painful experiences will stop.

And sometimes, when the person who caused the hurt suddenly offers kindness, the relief can feel overwhelming.

These emotional experiences can shape how a child understands love and relationships long after childhood ends.

Loving someone who hurt you does not mean you wanted the abuse. It means your emotional attachment was more complicated than the harm alone.

Understanding Trauma Bonds

One concept that can help explain certain abusive relationships is something called a trauma bond.

A trauma bond is an emotional attachment that can develop between someone experiencing abuse and the person causing it, particularly when mistreatment is mixed with periods of affection, reassurance, or kindness.

Imagine being frightened or hurt by someone, only to have that same person later offer comfort, attention, or affection. The emotional relief can be powerful.

Over time, a person may become attached not only to the individual but also to the hope that the loving version of that person will return and stay. Psychologists sometimes describe part of this pattern through intermittent reinforcement, where positive experiences happen unpredictably among negative ones.

Because the kindness is inconsistent, it can become especially meaningful to the person waiting for it. They may hold tightly to the good moments, hoping those moments represent who the other person truly is.

However, not every survivor who loves or misses an abusive person is experiencing a trauma bond. Family attachment, childhood dependency, grief, loyalty, and shared history can also explain these feelings. The term can be useful, but it should never become another label used to judge survivors.

When the Person Who Hurts You Is Also Someone You Love

I think one of the hardest things about childhood abuse is trying to understand how someone can be both a source of happy memories and a source of tremendous pain.

As a child, you don't necessarily have the emotional tools to separate those experiences. You just know that this person is part of your world. You may love them because they are family. You may love them because they sometimes make you laugh. You may love them because they teach you things, spend time with you, or make you feel special.

And then they hurt you.

Suddenly, the person you want comfort from is the person you need protection from. That is an incredibly confusing experience for a developing child. And those conflicting feelings don't automatically disappear when you become an adult.

Sometimes they become even more complicated because adulthood gives you the perspective to recognize just how wrong those childhood experiences were. You begin to understand things that your younger self couldn't.

You recognize manipulation. You identify controlling behavior. You understand that what you once accepted as normal was not healthy or safe. And then you have to reconcile that knowledge with the memories of someone you also loved.

That is not a simple process.

The Cycle of Harm and Affection

Some abusive relationships involve a repeating pattern of tension, mistreatment, reconciliation, and temporary calm.

For example:

1. Tension begins to build, leaving the survivor anxious or uncertain.

2. Harmful behavior occurs, creating fear, confusion, or emotional pain.

3. The person responsible may apologize, offer affection, make promises, or behave kindly.

4. Things feel better for a while, allowing hope to return.

5. The harmful behavior eventually happens again.

Not every abusive relationship follows this pattern. Some abusers never apologize, and periods of calm do not necessarily mean genuine accountability or change.

But when affection and harm alternate, the positive experiences can make the relationship difficult to understand. The survivor may focus on the kindness because it offers hope. They may think, See? This is the person I know. This is the person I love. And when the abuse returns, they may wonder what changed or what they did wrong.

For children especially, this can create an exhausting emotional environment. A child should never have to earn safety by being good enough, quiet enough, obedient enough, or lovable enough. Safety is something every child deserves.

It should never depend on an adult's mood.

Your Brain Remembers the Good, Too

One of the most important things I want survivors to understand is that trauma does not erase positive memories. Your brain does not automatically delete every happy experience associated with someone who harmed you.

You might remember a favorite holiday. A fishing trip. A song you listened to together. A lesson they taught you. A moment when you felt loved. Those memories can carry real emotional meaning.

Remembering them does not make your experience of abuse any less valid. I think this is something society sometimes struggles to understand. We want stories to have clear heroes and villains. We want people to fit neatly into categories of good or bad.

But human relationships are rarely that simple. Someone can have qualities you admire and still be responsible for terrible actions. Someone can have taught you valuable lessons and still have caused lasting harm. Someone can have given you beautiful memories while also being responsible for some of your most painful ones.

The existence of good memories does not lessen the seriousness of abuse. I wish more survivors knew they were allowed to hold both truths without having to defend themselves.

Sometimes We Are Grieving the Relationship We Deserved

Another piece of this complicated emotional puzzle is grief. Sometimes survivors aren't simply missing the person who hurt them. They are grieving the person they hoped that individual would become.

The parent who would protect them. The partner who would finally keep their promises. The family they imagined having. The relationship they kept hoping could be repaired.

For children who experience abuse, that grief can be particularly profound. We don't get to choose the adults responsible for raising us. We don't get to decide whether they will be emotionally available, protective, nurturing, or safe. We simply want to be loved.

And sometimes, even as adults, a part of us still wishes things could have been different. I think about that when I reflect on my stepdad.

There were moments when I experienced the relationship I wanted. And there were moments when that relationship caused incredible pain. I cannot change either reality.

But I can grieve the childhood I deserved while recognizing the moments of happiness that existed within the one I had.

Familiarity Is Not Always Safety

Our childhood experiences can influence what we come to expect from relationships. When someone grows up surrounded by unpredictability, criticism, fear, or emotional instability, those patterns can become familiar.

That does not mean the survivor wanted the abuse. It does not mean they were responsible for what happened. And it certainly does not mean they are destined to repeat those experiences. It simply means that early relationships can shape our expectations of connection.

Sometimes, survivors find themselves drawn to familiar relationship dynamics without immediately recognizing why. Other survivors become highly sensitive to those patterns and actively avoid them. There is no single response to childhood trauma.

Healing often involves learning to recognize the difference between what feels familiar and what is genuinely safe.

Healthy love should not require constant vigilance. It should not demand that you abandon your boundaries. And it should not leave you wondering which version of someone you will encounter from one day to the next.

You Can Love Someone and Still Hold Them Accountable

This has been one of the biggest lessons of my healing journey. Love does not erase accountability. I can still have love for my stepdad without excusing his actions.

I can recognize the experiences we shared without minimizing the damage he caused. I can acknowledge his positive qualities without allowing them to overshadow the abuse. And I can choose boundaries that protect my peace, regardless of what feelings remain.

Sometimes people assume that healing means reaching a place where you no longer care about the person who hurt you. But healing doesn't have to look like hatred. It doesn't have to mean forgetting. It doesn't require forgiveness or reconciliation. And it doesn't require you to erase every positive memory.

Sometimes healing looks like finally being able to say:

I loved you. Part of me may always carry that love. But what you did to me was wrong, and I deserved better.

Those words can coexist. They do not contradict one another.

How Writing My Books Helped Me Explore These Feelings

Readers of my books, Because of Jane and Because of Maddie: The Girl Who Said, "ENOUGH!", will see both sides of this complicated reality.

You will see the good moments. You will see the hard moments. You will see the experiences that brought happiness and the experiences that caused pain. That was important to me when telling my story.

I didn't want to rewrite my childhood into something that existed entirely in darkness. Because that wouldn't be the whole truth. There was laughter. There were adventures. There were people and experiences that shaped who I became.

And there was abuse. There was fear. There was trauma that followed me into adulthood. All of those experiences belong to my story.

When I began writing, I had to revisit memories I had carried for decades. Some were painful to put into words. Others reminded me of things I had enjoyed, experiences that made me smile even as I struggled with the person attached to them.

Writing gave me an opportunity to examine those memories through the eyes of the child who lived them and the adult who now understands them.

And sometimes, those two perspectives feel very different.

The little girl who loved her stepdad did not have the same understanding of abuse that the adult woman writing her story has today. I have had to learn to make room for both of them. I don't want to shame that little girl for loving someone who hurt her.

She was a child. She wanted love, connection, approval, and safety. She deserved all of those things. And she deserved them without abuse.

What Can Help When You Miss Someone Who Hurt You?

If you are struggling with complicated feelings toward someone who abused you, there are ways to begin exploring those emotions with compassion.

Allow yourself to feel without judgment.

You do not have to punish yourself for missing someone. Feelings are not moral failures, and they are not instructions to reconnect.

Remember the whole relationship.

When nostalgia makes the good memories feel especially powerful, gently remind yourself that the painful experiences were real, too. You do not have to erase either side.

Separate love from access.

You can care about someone and still choose distance. You can wish someone well without welcoming them back into your life. Boundaries are not invalidated by affection.

Give yourself permission to grieve.

You may be grieving the relationship you had, the relationship you wanted, or the version of that person you hoped would remain.

Explore your feelings through writing.

Journaling can help you recognize conflicting emotions without needing to resolve them immediately. You might ask yourself, "What do I miss?" and "What did I need that I wasn't receiving?"

Seek trauma-informed support.

A qualified mental health professional can help you explore attachment, grief, childhood experiences, and boundaries at a pace that feels safe for you.

And remember, there is no deadline for making sense of complicated love.

A Letter to the Survivor Who Still Loves Them

If you are reading this and thinking about someone who hurt you, I want you to know something.

You are allowed to miss them.

You are allowed to remember their laughter.

You are allowed to treasure the moments when they made you feel special.

You are allowed to remember the things they taught you and the experiences you shared.

You are allowed to wish things had been different.

And you are allowed to feel love.

But you are also allowed to be angry.

You are allowed to recognize the harm.

You are allowed to tell the truth about what happened.

You are allowed to establish boundaries, walk away, or decide that someone no longer gets to be part of your life.

You do not owe anyone forgiveness simply because they once showed you kindness.

You do not owe anyone silence because they gave you happy memories.

And you do not have to turn someone into a monster in every memory to justify protecting yourself from the harm they caused.

You can love someone and still recognize that they were not safe for you.

I am still learning how to sit with that truth myself. Some days, it feels easier than others. But I no longer believe I have to choose between acknowledging the good and telling the truth about the bad. Both are part of my story. And neither changes what I deserved. I deserved to feel safe. I deserved to be protected. I deserved love without fear. And so did you. Because the good times were real. But so was the abuse. And the good never made the abuse okay.

With love, strength, and solidarity,

Shannon Brown

Author of Because of Jane and Because of Maddie: The Girl Who Said, "ENOUGH!"

A Gentle Question for Reflection

Have you ever struggled with loving or missing someone who hurt you?

What helped you begin to understand those conflicting feelings?

You are welcome to share your thoughts, but you never owe anyone your story.

Sometimes simply knowing that someone else understands can make us feel a little less alone.

Educational note: This article shares personal experiences alongside general information about trauma, attachment, and abusive relationships. Not every complicated attachment is a trauma bond, and survivors experience love, grief, and healing differently. This article is intended for education and awareness, not diagnosis or a substitute for professional mental health support.

If you need support: In the United States, the National Domestic Violence Hotline is available at 800-799-SAFE (7233) or at "thehotline.org". For concerns involving child abuse, Childhelp can be reached at 800-422-4453 or "childhelphotline.org" (https://www.childhelphotline.org).

Continue the Journey

Every book, conversation, and shared story is another opportunity to help someone feel seen. If you’d like to keep exploring my work, here are a few ways to stay connected.

📚 Read the Because of Series

Begin with Because of Jane, where a childhood doll bears witness to a little girl’s experiences of abuse, survival, and hope. Then continue with Because of Maddie: The Girl Who Said “ENOUGH” to hear Maddie’s own voice as she begins to reclaim her story.

🎶 Explore the Survivors Anthem Series

Discover the songs that have helped me find comfort, express difficult emotions, and celebrate surviving. Through personal reflections, I share how music has accompanied different chapters of my life, and invite you to consider the anthems that have carried you through yours.

Read the stories behind the songs on my blog, then listen to the Survivors Anthem Series playlists on YouTube and Spotify. Whether you need a moment of comfort, a good cry, or a reason to sing at the top of your lungs, I hope you find a song that meets you where you are.

🧵 Add Your Thread to The Jane Project

Everyone has a Jane: a doll, stuffed animal, treasured object, or source of comfort that helped them feel less alone. The Jane Project brings those stories together, creating a community connected by the things that helped us hold on. Who was your Jane? Your story can add another thread to our growing web of survivor strength.

📅 Meet Me at an Event

Visit my events page for upcoming book fairs, signings, readings, and speaking engagements. Whether you’ve read my books or are discovering them for the first time, I would love to meet you and hear what brought you to my table.

💜 Keep Reading the Blog

Explore more personal reflections on survival, healing, advocacy, writing, and the everyday joys that belong in our stories, too. Some posts hold difficult memories. Others celebrate friendship, music, books, and the moments that make life feel full.

📣 Support Safety Through My Hootie Collaboration

My advocacy extends beyond the page through my collaboration with Hootie Personal Safety Alarm.

Visit gethootie.com, choose your personal safety alarm, and enter JANE at checkout for 10% off. Through this partnership, one alarm is donated for every four sold, helping extend access to personal safety tools.

It’s another way we can turn awareness into action.

🔗 Find It All Through My Linktree

Explore my books, projects, playlists, social media, and more at https://linktr.ee/shannonbrownauthor. Choose whatever speaks to you, and continue the journey with me.

Thank you for making room for my story. I hope something you find here helps you feel more connected to your own. 💜