He Ghosted Me Because My Trauma Wouldn’t Let Me Be Intimate With Him

I was violated as a child, at a very young age.

The most painful part is that it was done by someone within my own family.

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Someone who was supposed to protect me.

My parents saw it. They knew. But because the abuser was also their child, they felt powerless. And so I grew up carrying wounds no child should ever have to bear. Wounds that were never treated, never understood, never given space to heal. They followed me into my teenage years, into adulthood, into my relationships, and into my own body.

That pain shaped me in ways I am still trying to understand.

It shaped how I see men.

How I trtrust. How I love. How I respond to touch.

Whenever a man tries to come close, my entire body reacts. I don’t just get scared, I get severe body cramps that tighten every part of me. The pain comes in waves and only fades after a while. It’s as though my body remembers everything my mind is trying so hard to forget. My trauma lives in my muscles, my nerves, my silence, and my fears.

When I got to campus, I met someone, Felix.

At first, I never imagined myself falling for him. I don’t even know what drew me in, maybe his hairline, maybe something deeper. But over time, I began to care for him in a way I didn’t expect. And loving someone when you carry trauma is not easy.

The first time he tried to be intimate with me, my body shut down. The memories returned, fresh and overwhelming. Fear took over. The cramps came. I couldn’t allow him close. And because of that, he ghosted me.

Later, after some time had passed, we talked and tried to fix things. We decided to take it slowly.

But the cycle didn’t end.

Again, If I didn’t allow intimacy. He would get angry. Then he’d vanish into thin air.

Whenever we disagree, he doesn’t give me space to express myself. He dominates the conversation, insists that only his side is right, and then blocks me everywhere, leaving no room for understanding or explanation. He pushes his needs to the front while ignoring mine. He never pauses to ask why I react the way I do, or why my body shuts down. To him, it looks like rejection. To me, it is survival.

The truth is that even though I love him, my trauma creates boundaries I cannot ignore. My reactions are not about a lack of love or care, they are about protecting myself while I heal. I want him to understand that my struggle with closeness is real, and that my love exists alongside the work I still need to do on myself.

But his behaviour hurts me. His silence. His blocking. His refusal to listen. His need to dominate.

All of it breaks me in ways he doesn’t see. It makes me feel invisible, unheard, unimportant. It takes me back to the same helplessness I felt as a child. And I find myself torn, between wanting to heal for my own sake, and wanting to keep him close, because despite everything, I still hope he cares enough to try to understand.

I was not violated as a child only once.

It didn’t end there.

It continues to affect my life, my relationships, my trust, my emotions, my body, my ability to feel safe. Sometimes I ask myself if I will ever fully heal. If I will ever stop flinching at touch. If I will ever feel whole again.

I want healing so badly.

I want freedom from the shadows of my past.

I want to reclaim my body.

I want peace.

I am sharing this because I am tired of carrying the weight alone. I am tired of suffering in silence. I am seeking help, guidance, and understanding. Will I ever heal? Can someone like me truly recover? Is there help for people whose trauma lives inside their bodies?

I hope someone hears me, and shows me the way to healing.

And finally, I hope he reads this.

Is There A Man Out There Who Doesn’t Cheat?

I hope he sees the depth of my pain and the truth behind my reactions.

I hope he understands that my love for him was real, even when my trauma stood in the way.

I hope he knows that all I ever wanted was patience, understanding, and a chance to feel safe with him.

My heart wanted him.

My trauma is still learning how to let love in.

—Sarah

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