It Started Before You Met Them: How Old Wounds Show Up in Love

Why your reaction in love feels bigger than the moment—and how early wounds shape your patterns, even with a safe partner.

You’re in a calm conversation—until suddenly, you’re not. Your chest tightens, your stomach flips, and before you even realize what’s happening, you’re panicking over something your partner didn’t even mean.
Sound familiar?

Listen or read below.

That moment when your body overreacts? It's not about them.

You’re looking at your partner and they haven’t even raised their voice. But your insides are screaming. You feel small, unsafe, alone. And the worst part is—you know it doesn’t make sense. They didn’t slam a door. They didn’t walk out. But your body is reacting like they did.

If you’ve ever thought, “I know this isn’t about them, but I can’t stop reacting like it is…”—you’re not broken. You’re just carrying a pattern that started long before this relationship ever did.

This isn’t about memory. It’s about blueprinting.

Our nervous systems learn how to survive before we have language. Long before logic kicks in, we learn what connection feels like—and what danger feels like. We start building a map. Not based on facts, but on sensation.

So when your partner turns away during an argument, your body might not just register a pause—it registers abandonment. When their tone shifts, your system might hear rejection. Even if nothing actually happened.

Your nervous system doesn’t care if you know better. It only cares that something feels familiar—and dangerous.

The loop that keeps repeating

Here’s the cycle I see over and over again:

One person pulls away to feel safe.
The other rushes in to reconnect.
The more one retreats, the more the other panics.
The more one panics, the more the other retreats.

And around and around it goes.

Neither of you is trying to cause harm. You’re both just running old survival strategies. But those strategies weren’t built for connection—they were built for protection.

The flicker before the fire

But here’s the good news: even in the middle of that pattern, there’s a flicker of space. A half-second moment where you realize, “Wait… I know this feeling.” That flicker? That’s the opening. That’s your nervous system giving you a shot at doing it differently.

You don’t have to change everything. You just have to catch that flicker and pause. That’s where the rewiring begins.

A simple shift that changes everything

Next time you feel that heat rise in your body—before you lash out or shut down—ask yourself this:

“What is this reminding me of?”

That single question widens the lens. It takes you out of blame and into curiosity. And suddenly, you’re not just reacting to this moment. You’re noticing the echo of something older.

And that noticing? It changes everything.

Try this nervous system practice

Here’s a quick 3-step move I teach my clients:

Pause – Catch the flicker. Don’t try to fix. Just stop.
Track – What’s your body doing? Clenched jaw? Shallow breath? Cold hands?
Name – “This feels like when I got shut out at dinner.” Or, “This reminds me of when my dad used to leave the room.”

When you name it, the panic doesn’t disappear—but it gets context. And context gives you choice.

You’re not failing. You’re practicing.

This work isn’t about getting it perfect. It’s about shifting the script just enough to stay present. Even if your voice shakes. Even if it feels clunky. You’re building new exits on a road you’ve driven your whole life. And even if you miss the first few—that effort still counts.

You’re not overreacting. You’re reacting from a part of you that was wired to survive.

But survival doesn’t have to be the only option anymore.

Want to learn how to rewire your patterns—not just name them?

This is exactly the kind of work we do inside my membership and in my free 7-day email course:
👉 https://www.drrachelorleck.com...

You don’t need to “fix” yourself. You just need to understand what your nervous system is trying to protect—and learn how to offer it a better way.