Daring to Date Again: Rebuilding Trust After Emotional Trauma
Dating after surviving a toxic relationship can feel like trying to rebuild your life from scratch. It’s not just the loss of the illusion of love that lingers—it’s the loss of trust and confidence, both in others and overwhelmingly—in yourself. When you’ve been manipulated, belittled, and made to feel unworthy for so long, the idea of opening your heart to someone new can feel almost impossible.
After spending years with someone who repeatedly told me I was unlovable, unkind for setting boundaries, or “too sensitive” for showing emotion—I started to believe it. Words that were meant to break me echoed long after the relationship ended. Emotional abuse has a way of eroding your confidence, making you question your reality, your strength—your very sense of self. I remember finally opening up to my own therapist and admitting that it felt like death by 10,000 cuts. Thousands of manipulative moments that are too intricate and twisted and surreal to explain to anyone and have them even believe it—and yet I was living it. There was a time I had honestly wished he had just shot me in the leg—because at least then I could have said, “see, see this hole in my leg— he did that.” But instead, it was a manipulation here—CUT, a put-down there—CUT, yelling in rage—CUT, jealousy—CUT, calling me names—CUT, CUT, CUT.
With the support of a community—I pushed myself up off the floor and walked into therapy. Linda Johnson. She saved me. She sat with me on my porch, holding my infant baby and reminding me that in this moment, I am safe, I am okay. She helped me learn new ways to visualize protection and how to implement new boundaries. I healed in so many ways.
But, as a counselor myself, I felt like a fraud. How could I help others heal while feeling so broken myself? As a woman, I worried so much about repeating this nightmare, that I shut down from dating anyone else, for 6 years.
I stopped trusting. Stopped dating completely. Stopped letting anyone get intimately close. It felt safer to keep my heart guarded than risk being hurt again or worse off, be the “fool” that I was accusing myself of being, most likely because I had been called that for so long. But, I know there was still a part of me that longed for connection. For love. For the chance to share my heart again—but not at the expense of losing myself and certainly not at the expense of allowing someone to potentially also hurt my son—in any way, shape, or form.
What I’ve learned is this: healing after emotional trauma isn’t just about moving on. It’s about learning to trust yourself again. And that kind of healing? It takes time. It takes therapy. It takes really hard work. Without it, I don't think I could have unraveled the layers of pain I carried, or let those 10,000 cuts heal. Therapy gave me the tools to understand the patterns I had been stuck in and separate the lies I was told from the truth of who I am. It helped me stop searching for validation in others and start rebuilding my sense of worth from within. Had the right man come along during that time of healing, opened his hand and said, “I’m here, I’ve got you and I’m not going to hurt you” I would have almost been in disbelief and I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to not have had to walk that really scary path alone.
And let me correct myself- I certainly wasn’t alone- I had my friends, my best friend (the rarest gem on this fine earth), my mom, Linda, my community, my incredible son…and little by little, I found more hope.
Healing is about setting boundaries—who knew? For so long I never had them—I gave too much, too soon—believing that love meant self-sacrifice, that love meant I give, they receive and if I don’t give enough, then I am not doing it “right”. What an illusion, what a lie, what a shame. What a powerful lesson. I know now that boundaries aren’t walls to keep people out. They’re necessary protections, reminders that I’m allowed to have needs. I’m allowed to ask myself hard questions: Does this person respect me? Are they adding to my life or draining it? Am I giving in ways that leave me fulfilled, not depleted? Do they make time for me? Do I have to question if they love me?
The truth is, dating after a damaging relationship is very, very different. It’s layered with old fears, the instinct to protect, and the hope that maybe this time, things will be different. It’s made me cautious, but also more intentional. I’m still learning that it’s okay to ask for reassurance, for clarity, for what fills me up. It’s okay to take things slow and to expect emotional safety before fully opening my heart. Because love—real love—should never feel like a risk to your sense of self. And love—real love—I think it truly does exist.
I’m no longer looking for perfection. I don’t need someone to “fix” me or to complete me. I’m learning to be whole on my own. But I am looking for someone who can meet me with honesty, compassion, kindness, commitment. Someone who will respect my boundaries, listen when I share my fears, and grow alongside me—and in turn, allow me to love them.
The scars remain, but the cuts are mostly healed. I no longer feel the need to explain or justify them. On a recent hike, someone asked me, “I just don’t understand it—how can someone as kind as you be treated so poorly?” I opened my mouth, feeling the familiar urge to try and explain those 10,000 cuts—to break down the manipulation, to make them see—but I stopped myself. I don’t have to do that anymore. I don’t have to explain why someone was cruel. I just have to keep going. To keep moving. To keep healing and growing—and to keep loving. And I suppose that also means daring to date again—trusting myself enough to open my heart, knowing I am no longer the person who accepts pain as love.
If you’ve been through something similar—if you’re trying to heal from a relationship that left you questioning your worth—know this: You are not broken. You are not too much. And you are absolutely capable of finding love again. Take your time. Seek support. Invest in your healing. You deserve a love that feels safe, nurturing, and empowering. And that kind of love starts with the one you give yourself first.
