Trauma Bonding: What It Really Means — and Why It Matters

If you've ever wondered why it's so hard to leave a painful relationship, or why you kept returning to someone who hurt you — this is for you.

Not because something is wrong with you. Not because you are weak or broken. But because what happened to you has a name, and understanding it may be one of the most important steps you take toward healing.

When Words Get Misused, Real Suffering Gets Minimized

Lately, the phrase "trauma bonding" has been showing up everywhere — in TikTok videos, casual conversation, even as a lighthearted way to describe friendships forged over shared struggles. "Trauma-bonded besties." "We trauma-bonded instead of going to therapy."

I understand the impulse. Finding language for our experiences is powerful. But when clinical terms get loosened from their meaning, something important gets lost — and real survivors can be left feeling even more unseen.

This week, my story opened a piece in The New York Times titled "What 'Trauma Bonding' Really Means," written by mental health reporter Christina Caron. The article explores the clinical meaning of trauma bonding and why it matters that we get this right. I was honored to be part of that conversation — because this is exactly the kind of clarity the healing community needs.

What Trauma Bonding Actually Is

Trauma bonding is not about friendships built through hard times. In its clinical context, it refers to a strong emotional attachment that a victim forms toward their abuser — an attachment that can make leaving feel impossible, even when the person knows they are being harmed.

It happens through cycles. Abuse, followed by kindness. Cruelty, followed by warmth. These cycles — what experts call intermittent reinforcement — create a neurochemical response in the brain. The moments of reconciliation and connection trigger the release of dopamine and oxytocin, the same chemicals associated with pleasure and bonding. The brain learns to anticipate those moments of love and relief, and to hold on through everything else in pursuit of them.

This is not weakness. This is the brain doing exactly what it was designed to do — seek safety, seek connection, survive.

I lived this. As a young girl, I both loved and feared my mother. In good times, she called me Monkey and we laughed together. In other moments, without warning, she could become violent and terrifying. I learned early to read the room, to manage her moods, to believe that if I could just do everything right, the good version of her would stay. That dynamic would later repeat itself in my marriage.

It wasn't until I was in my 40s — with the help of therapy — that I understood I had formed a trauma bond. And with that understanding came something I had never expected: relief.

Your Reactions Are Not a Sign of Defect

Here is what I want you to hear, perhaps more than anything else:

Trauma causes confusion. It shapes the way we see ourselves, the way we relate to others, and the patterns we repeat — often without knowing why. Many of us who have experienced abuse carry a deep, persistent shame. The feeling that we must have done something wrong. That we should have left sooner. That we should have known better.

But the ways you learned to cope — the patterns, the behaviors, the responses that may confuse or even shame you today — were not signs of weakness or damage. They were survival strategies. They were your nervous system doing its best to protect you in an environment that was unsafe.

As I write in Resolve to Rise:

"It is not there because you are defective. It is there because you are adaptive. And it has served its purpose well."

You could not simply decide not to be attached to the person who both hurt you and was your source of comfort and safety. That isn't a moral failing — it is the very nature of trauma bonding. And understanding that is where healing begins.

Shame Keeps Us Stuck — Grace Helps Us Heal

One of the heaviest burdens survivors carry is shame. Shame tells you that you are different, inadequate, unworthy. It keeps you quiet. It keeps you isolated. It tells you that if people really knew what had happened — or how long you stayed, or how many times you went back — they would judge you.

But shame thrives in silence. And healing requires something different: grace.

Grace toward yourself. Compassion for the child or the person who did the best they could in circumstances they did not choose. An understanding that your suffering does not disqualify you — it is, in fact, part of what makes you capable of extraordinary resilience.

The Japanese art of Kintsugi teaches us that broken pottery, repaired with gold, becomes more beautiful and more strong than it was before. Not despite its cracks — because of them. That is the philosophy at the heart of everything I do. You are not damaged beyond repair. You are in the process of becoming something stronger.

A Path Forward

If yesterday's New York Times piece resonated with you — or if this post has — I want you to know that what you've experienced is valid, and healing is possible.

Resolve to Rise was born from my own journey and from nearly two decades of work as a licensed counselor and behavioral health professional. It is a roadmap — practical, compassionate, and phased — for exactly this kind of healing.

Here are some places to start:

📖 Read the book — Resolve to Rise: Become Greater than Your Circumstances offers concrete steps for healing from the effects of trauma and abuse. Purchase the book.

🧭 Take the Resolve to Rise Roadmap Assessment — discover where you are in your healing journey and what your next meaningful step looks like.

📰 Read the New York Times article — "What 'Trauma Bonding' Really Means" by Christina Caron.

🌐 Explore resolvetorise.com — for resources, tools, trauma and treatment videos, and more.

Healing is possible. Resilience is real.

— Lilli Correll