When Fear Drives Love Away: Coping with the Pain of Someone Who Runs

In the modern dating world, “situationships” have increasingly become the norm. A situationship is essentially a dynamic where two people are dating but not fully committed—often because one partner has a fear of commitment. Over the past few years, I’ve noticed a significant rise in clients sharing experiences of these types of relationships.

The stories often follow a familiar pattern: two people meet, connect, and start to build a relationship. They talk, get to know each other, go on dates, and develop a bond. However, as attachment begins to form, one partner becomes overwhelmed by fear and pulls away, leaving the other partner feeling confused and hurt. Maybe you saw a future together—one filled with promise and possibility—but before it could blossom, they ran. Perhaps it was fear of vulnerability, past wounds, or the risk of being hurt again. Whatever the reason, you’re left holding the pieces of something unfinished, grappling with the distress of their absence and the ache of unanswered questions.

It’s becoming very apparent that even those with the most secure attachment style is shaken up to their core when someone with an Avoidant Attachment seemingly changes over night and ends the relationship. It can feel like the rug is being pulled from underneath us. And the truth is that, this behaviour creates abandonment wounds - or in some cases exacerbates existing abandonment wounds - which can take a long time to heal.

So how do we cope with this heartache and lack of closure?

There are many different ways to cope with the aftermath of this type of ending with a partner. One of those coping tools is writing.

Whether it’s journaling to process your emotions or penning a heartfelt letter to them, writing offers a powerful way to move through the pain. It allows you to express what’s trapped inside—your anger, sadness, love, or longing—without needing their response or validation. You can write for yourself, letting the words be your outlet, or you can write to them. Some people even choose to mail their letters, sharing their unspoken truths. Others may burn them in a symbolic act of release.

It might surprise you to learn just how many people have experienced this kind of heartbreak. You’re not alone in this pain, nor are you alone in your healing. So, pick up a pen, let the words flow, and give yourself the closure they couldn’t. Because writing can be the bridge that carries you back to yourself.

Writing Your Truth

A close friend of mine, an incredibly talented writer, once turned to writing as a way to process the emotional pain of a difficult breakup. With her permission, I’m sharing this letter because I believe it beautifully captures the emotions so many of us experience when faced with the heartbreak of a relationship’s end.

Therefore, here’s a bit of inspiration for anyone out there who may be in need of it 🖤

To the One Who Got Away,

It’s been two years, but time hasn’t softened the edges of your absence. The days have come and gone, yet you remain—a shadow in every corner of my mind, a whisper in every quiet moment. I write this now because I don’t know what else to do with the pieces of my heart that still ache for you.

From the moment our eyes met, I knew. Not the kind of knowing you can explain, but the kind that settles in your bones, timeless and certain. You were the one—my one. I saw through the walls you built, the armor you wore to keep the world at bay. I saw the wounds you tried to hide, the weight of betrayal etched into the way you held yourself, braced against the next blow. And I wanted to be the one who stood beside you, not to fix you, not to change you, but simply to know you—to love you as you were, broken edges and all.

But you disappeared. You left before I could even finish telling you all the things I dreamed for us. I could feel the fear in your silence, the way it tightened around you like a vice. You ran, not because you didn’t feel it too—I know you did—but because you did. Because love, to you, has always been a risk, a threat to everything you’ve worked so hard to protect.

I’ve tried to move forward. God knows I’ve tried. But every road feels like a circle leading back to you. I meet other men, but they’re not you. They don’t have your quiet strength, your unspoken depth. I still feel you in the spaces no one else can touch. How do you move on from that? How do you walk away from something that never let you go?

I don’t blame you for your fear. I know what it’s like to be afraid, to believe that letting someone in is just inviting pain. But oh, how I wish you had let me in. I would have held your fears as if they were my own. I would have stood with you in the storm, not to shelter you but to face it together. You didn’t have to protect me from the darkness—I wanted to love you through it.

Even now, I dream of what could have been. I imagine us, not perfect but whole, two people finding solace in each other’s arms. I see the life we could have built, one where your fear didn’t have the final word. I see us laughing, growing, loving. And it breaks me all over again to know that will only ever exist in my mind.

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know where you are, or if you think of me at all. But if you do, if there’s even a flicker of what we shared left in you, know this: I loved you. I still love you. Not because I have to, not because I’m stuck, but because love like that doesn’t fade—it simply is. It exists, waiting, unyielding, no matter how far apart we are.

I hope one day you find the courage to open your heart. Whether or not it’s with me, I hope you let someone in, someone who sees you the way I did. You deserve that kind of love, even if you don’t believe it yet.

But if by some chance, by some miracle, you’re reading this and you still think of me—please, come back. I’m still here, waiting in the place where we left each other. I don’t need you to be unbroken; I only need you to be you.

Yours always,

The Woman Who Loved You First

Final Thoughts

Writing can help you process the unspoken and release the weight of a love that feels unresolved. Whether you keep the words for yourself, burn them, or send them, writing offers clarity, closure, and a way to heal. Even if it feels impossible now, know that healing is within your reach. Start where you are—one word, one sentence, one step at a time 🖤