Letting the love in: when the hardest part of healing isn't the anger—it's the love.

When someone we love hurts us, it is disorienting. It feels impossible to reconcile: If they love me, how could they do this? In psychology, we call this cognitive dissonance—the mental discomfort of holding two conflicting beliefs at once.

The human organism has many strategies for dealing with this tension. Often, the simplest strategy for survival is to choose a side.

My Story

Growing up, my mother and I had a very fraught relationship. From the time I had just learned to walk until I was 18, we battled. When I entered therapy at age 34—driven there by panic attacks, insomnia, and intense mood swings—my narrative was simple: I hate my mother.

It took a year of intense work and widening my window of tolerance—the mental space where we can process difficult emotions without becoming overwhelmed—to uncover the real truth. I was working with a skillful Hakomi therapist. The beauty of the Hakomi method is that the client discovers truths for themselves, guided by curiosity rather than clinical directives.

In one particular session, we were inhabiting difficult childhood memories. Because we approached them with compassion, I finally felt safe enough to feel something I hadn't expected: an undeniable, pure, sweet love for my mother. I was totally shocked. The love had been there all along, repressed for decades. Reclaiming it felt like a massive relief; I was finally allowed to inhabit my own heart.

Why We Choose Sides

Why was that love inaccessible for so long? Because as a child, I was in survival mode.

Being in a relationship with my mother often felt like fighting for my right to exist. A developing brain cannot handle the nuance of: "My mother loves me AND she makes me feel unsafe." To survive the confusion, the brain protects little beings by picking a side.

I had two choices:

1. Ignore my own experiences and see my mother as an angel so I could keep the love.

2. Protect myself from the pain by writing her off as a "devil" so I could easily tell myself I didn't care.

I chose the latter. I traded my love for a shield.

The Courage to Be Vulnerable

Healing that wound meant more than just processing anger; it meant feeling the love. This is true for any wound of this kind. We often feel immense shame for loving the person who hurt us. We shield ourselves because standing in that place of love while feeling unsafe is perhaps the most vulnerable we will ever be. Returning to that place takes immense courage and practice at staying with fear and discomfort.

Since that session 13 years ago, I have stood in that place of pain and confusion over and over. Every time I was able to stay with the pain, I was also able to let in the love. This practice ultimately led to a resolution of the cognitive dissonance. I could finally accept the duality: My mother loved me, AND she hurt me. One does not negate the other.

The Gift of Inhabiting Your Heart

The most beautiful gift of this healing has been that I now feel safe to love my mother with all my heart, without holding back. Not only can I accept that she loves me, I can accept that I love her. Today, we are close and depend on each other in hard times. It has been one of the greatest gifts of therapy and mindfulness practice to be able to fully inhabit my own heart.

A final note: Letting the love in does not mean we accept that it’s okay to let someone hurt us. This is often the "internal math" we do that leads us to shut the love out. We think: If I love them, I am saying it was okay for them to hurt me. This is where learning how to set boundaries comes in—which is the topic of a different blog post.

For now, remember: you are allowed to reclaim the love that belongs to you.

Reflection

Is there a "hidden love" you’ve been protecting yourself from? What would change if you allowed yourself to feel the love and the hurt at the same time?