We all want closeness. To be seen, felt, and understood by our partner. To drop the armour, to be held in love, to feel the electric thread of soul-level connection. But if you’ve ever tried to move toward that kind of intimacy and felt something in you—or them—pull away… there’s likely an invisible force at play.
Unhealed individual wounds.
When we carry unprocessed trauma, shame, or deep conditioning—especially around sex, expression, and emotional safety—we create internal walls. Sometimes these walls are loud: anger, withdrawal, control, defensiveness. Other times, they’re subtle: numbness, silence, tension, the inability to meet your partner’s eyes.
These walls aren’t flaws. They’re protection.
They were built when we were young, afraid, overwhelmed, and unequipped to process pain. But what protected us back then now blocks us from love.
In partnership, these wounds tend to trigger each other.
One person’s silence activates the other’s abandonment wound.
One person’s shutdown evokes the other’s over-functioning.
Suddenly, it’s not two conscious adults in a relationship—it’s two wounded children protecting themselves from love that feels dangerous.
And so the cycle begins.
What many couples don’t realise is that the distance between them isn’t always about them. It’s about what they’ve brought with them—the beliefs, fears, and old stories that have never been named, felt, or healed.
Without doing this work, people end up projecting onto their partner what they haven’t yet made peace with inside themselves.
- “You never listen to me” is often “I don’t feel worthy of being heard.”
- “You don’t desire me” might be “I carry shame about my sexuality.”
- “You always pull away” could mean “I’m terrified of being abandoned again.”
This is why Real Tantra work is so powerful: it takes the focus off trying to fix the other person and brings it back to what’s unresolved inside you.
When we do the work to heal our wounds—emotionally, energetically, sexually—we soften. We stop projecting. We stop playing out unconscious roles. We begin to respond instead of react. And slowly, intimacy becomes safe again.
From this place, love becomes possible—not as a fantasy, but as a real, grounded connection built on truth, not trauma.
This doesn’t mean you need to be “fully healed” to love. But it does mean you need to be aware. Aware of your triggers. Willing to own your pain. Open enough to let love into the places you’ve tried to hide.
Because intimacy isn’t built on perfection.
It’s built on presence. On courage. On the willingness to meet yourself fully—so that you can meet another, fully.
Unhealed wounds don’t just block intimacy.
They also block pleasure. Play. Trust. Sensuality. Soul-level connection.
And until we stop bypassing them, we’ll keep repeating the same cycles in new costumes, with new people, hoping things will change.
But the truth is: nothing changes until you do. The love you want doesn’t live on the other side of someone else’s change. It lives on the other side of your willingness to heal.
