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You Can Understand the Abuse and Still Miss Them

One of the most frustrating parts of healing is realizing that insight doesn’t always change how you feel.

You can understand that what happened was abuse. You can name the manipulation. You can see the patterns clearly now. You can know that leaving was the right choice.


And still, you miss them.


This can feel deeply confusing, especially when you’ve done so much work already. People often assume that understanding is the final step. That once you “get it,” the attachment should loosen. That clarity should bring emotional distance. It's more of a fantasy than reality that there's this magic moment where you realize it's abuse and it all clicks. That suddenly all your feelings towards that person become negative and you want to cut them out. That's not actually how it works. Your nervous system doesn't operate on insight alone.


You don’t miss them because you’re confused about what they did. You don’t miss them because you secretly believe it was okay. And you don’t miss them because you’ve failed to heal “properly.”


You miss them because attachment doesn’t disappear just because it’s no longer deserved.


Attachment forms in proximity, repetition, and vulnerability. It forms through shared routines, emotional exposure, and being seen, even when being seen was later weaponized. Those bonds are not erased by awareness. They loosen slowly, and often unevenly. You can't unbuild that conditioning overnight.


This is why people can say, with complete honesty, “I know they were abusive,” and still feel a pull toward them when they’re tired, lonely, overwhelmed, or grieving.


Another hard part is that understanding the abuse can actually intensify the grief. When you didn’t fully see what was happening, hope sometimes stayed intact. There was still a fantasy that things could change if you tried harder, loved better, explained yourself more clearly.


Clarity ends that fantasy. And with it comes grief. Not just for the relationship, but for what you wanted it to be. For the version of them you needed. For the version of yourself who stayed because you believed something good might still be possible. Missing someone in that space isn’t a contradiction. It’s mourning.


There’s also the loss of familiarity. Even harmful relationships create rhythms. They shape your days, your expectations, your sense of connection. When that disappears, there’s often a quiet emptiness left behind. Not because the relationship was healthy, but because it was known. Your nervous system doesn’t immediately replace “known” with “safe.” It replaces it with “absent.” That absence can hurt.


A lot of people feel ashamed of this stage. They think that missing means backsliding. That it means they’re not as healed as they thought. That they’re secretly still attached in a way that undermines their progress. They might think it means they wanted the abuse.


But missing someone doesn’t undo what you know.


You can hold clarity and longing at the same time. You can miss them and still refuse to go back. You can grieve what never truly existed while staying grounded in the truth of what did.


Healing isn’t about eliminating feelings that don’t align neatly with your insight. It’s about learning to let those feelings exist without letting them make decisions for you.


Missing someone does not mean you wanted the abuse, or that you can't heal.


It’s a signal that something mattered, even if it mattered in a way that hurt you.


And over time, as your life fills with safer connections, steadier rhythms, and new points of emotional reference, that missing usually changes. It becomes quieter. Less urgent. Less charged.

Not because you forced it away. But because it was finally allowed to pass through.


If you’re earlier in this process and still wondering why these feelings exist at all, I’ve written a separate post that focuses more on why people love or miss their abuser in the first place.


This post is for informational and peer-support purposes only and is not a substitute for professional mental health care. Read our full Disclaimer here.

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