The Space in Between: What Healing Has Taught Me About Love and Connection

Over the past few years, my understanding of love and relationships has continued to grow. I’ve come to see that love isn’t just something we share with others, it’s also something that grows within us.

Through the work I’ve done with the Learning Love Institute, I’ve started to understand how my earliest experiences of love — what I saw, what I didn’t see, and what I longed for, shaped how I relate to others as an adult. It’s been eye-opening to notice how my old wounds, particularly around abandonment and safety, have influenced the kind of relationships I’ve been drawn to and how I’ve shown up within them.

I used to think love was about finding someone who would finally make me feel complete. Now, I see that love begins with the relationship I have with myself, with how gently I can meet my own fears, how honestly I can name my needs, and how willing I am to open my heart again after being hurt.

It’s in that tender space in between — between protection and openness, longing and trust, love and healing that the deepest growth has taken place.

Learning to Stay Open

I’ve always considered myself an open-hearted person. But what I’ve learned is that you can have an open heart and still protect yourself so much that others can’t quite reach you. For me, that protection often came from not trusting too quickly, which on one hand kept me safe, but on the other, kept me slightly removed and always at arm’s length.

Through learning to care for my inner child — the younger part of me that still holds old fears and needs, I’ve slowly started to soften. That’s been one of the most healing parts of my journey: discovering that trust and intimacy don’t come from forcing openness, but from meeting myself with compassion. The more connected I am to myself, the more space there is for connection with others.

Redefining intimacy

If I think back to earlier in my life, intimacy often meant performance. I’d try to look or act a certain way, believing that if I could just be better, then someone would love me. That pattern came from shame — the quiet, painful belief that I wasn’t enough as I was.

Now, intimacy looks entirely different. It’s being fully okay with who I am, knowing that I don’t need to perform to be worthy of love. It’s also about taking responsibility for my own emotions and being able to say, “Yes, I have fears and insecurities, and I’m working on them,” without making them someone else’s to fix.

Vulnerability, I’ve realised, is where love actually lives. My vulnerability is my beauty. It’s the part of me that connects most deeply, not because it’s perfect but because it’s honest.

The Lesson Hidden in Letting Go

Last year, when I was in Italy, I met someone I felt a deep connection with. It was one of those rare experiences that felt almost cinematic — spontaneous, magnetic, full of warmth. I took a risk, changed my flight, and followed that feeling.

And while the relationship didn’t last, it taught me something profound. We can have all the communication skills in the world, but if our bigger life values, like where we want to live, our family goals, or the pace of our lives don’t align, then forcing it only creates suffering.

It reminded me that love isn’t just about finding someone; it’s also about trusting ourselves enough to let go when something isn’t right.

Because even in endings, there’s that sacred space in between — between holding on and letting go, where we meet ourselves again. That courage to open your heart, even if it means it might break, is what keeps us alive to the full experience of love.

The Rhythm of Timing

I’ve also learned how important it is to trust the timing of love. When I fall into thoughts like, “It’s never going to happen for me” or “Dating is too hard,” I notice how small that makes my world feel.

It’s the same mindset that can show up in the process of healing — when we focus on fear or scarcity, we close ourselves off to possibility. So instead, I’m choosing to stay open. To live in the space in between what has been and what’s still unfolding. To trust that there are countless people out there to meet, that love can be fun and lighthearted, and that it doesn’t have to be heavy to be meaningful.

The Ongoing Conversation of Love

As I continue to grow, I’ve realised that love and healing are not separate paths — they move together. Every new experience, every connection, and even every ending has become a mirror reflecting back the parts of me that are ready to soften, to be seen, and to be understood with more compassion.

What excites me most about the road ahead is knowing that in relationships, there’s so much growth to be found. Triggers and challenges don’t have to mean something is wrong; they can be invitations to go deeper, to heal, to love more honestly.

Love, for me, has become less about seeking certainty and more about creating safety within myself — enough safety to stay open, to keep learning, to keep meeting others with softness. I often ask myself where I can soften a little more, where I might meet love not with fear, but with presence. Maybe that’s something you can ask yourself, too: where is there space between giving and receiving that needs a little more care?

So here’s to loving bravely and openly. To tending to that sacred space where love and healing intertwine, and to trusting that it’s in that space in between that we find ourselves most alive.