You finally have what you thought you wanted.

Someone who sees you. Who texts back. Who makes you laugh. Who listens. Who loves you even when you’re messy and unsure and figuring things out. Someone who doesn’t make you question your worth, who doesn’t keep you guessing, who’s just… kind.

And still, a part of you wants to run.

Not because you don’t care. Not because you’ve changed your mind. But because the closeness, the realness, starts to feel uncomfortable. The love feels too pure, too soft, too stable. And when you’ve spent years in relationships built on chaos, unpredictability, and proving your worth… safety can feel like a threat.

No one talks enough about how scary it is to be loved properly when you’ve never fully loved yourself.

Because suddenly, you’re not trying to earn someone’s attention. You’re not working overtime to fix someone. You’re not chasing them. You’re not playing a role. You’re just… there. And they still want you. And that makes your brain go: Wait, what’s the catch?

So you start picking fights. You get irritable. You shut down. You ghost the texts that don’t deserve ghosting. You overthink a harmless joke. You look for signs they’re pulling away, even when they’re not. You start testing them without realising it. And worst of all? You feel guilty for not feeling “happy all the time” when you finally got what you asked for.

It’s not because you’re cold or broken. It’s because somewhere along the way, you internalised the idea that love had to be hard. That you had to earn it, chase it, mould yourself for it. You were taught to associate love with anxiety, with unpredictability, with not being enough… or being too much. So when a love shows up that feels grounded, not performative, your nervous system freaks out. Where’s the drama? The high highs and low lows?

You don’t trust it. You don’t trust yourself. And underneath that is the real fear:
What if they see the real me and leave?
What if I let my guard down and it goes wrong again?
What if I ruin a good thing?
What if they realise I’m not as loveable as they thought?

So instead of letting yourself be seen, you shrink. You pull back. You test the boundaries. You sabotage. But here’s the hard, healing truth: Pushing someone away doesn’t protect you. It just distances you from the thing you want most: connection.

And if any of this sounds familiar, let me remind you: there is nothing wrong with you. This isn’t about being “ungrateful” or “difficult.” It’s your brain and body trying to protect you based on old blueprints.
You’re scared because love finally feels safe.
You’re scared because you’re comfortable.
You’re scared because, maybe for the first time, someone isn’t leaving.

And that’s a whole new kind of vulnerability.

But the answer isn’t to punish yourself or push them away. It’s to pause. To be kind to the version of you that’s scared. To get curious about the fear, rather than shaming it. To gently ask yourself:
What am I afraid of here?
What story am I telling myself?
What part of me still believes I’m hard to love?

Because sometimes, the biggest work in a relationship isn’t loving the other person. It’s allowing yourself to be loved, fully, messily, imperfectly, without guilt.

You don’t have to be perfect to deserve love.
You don’t have to perform to be chosen.
You don’t have to keep people at a distance just because others let you down in the past.

You are allowed to feel scared and still stay.
You are allowed to feel the fear and still lean in.

And the people who are meant to love you, truly, deeply, healthily, won’t run when it gets a little messy.
They’ll stay.
And so will you.