Dear Therapist..."I Don't Know if I'm In Love or Just Addicted to the Hope of It"

Dear Charlotte,

I’m in something that looks like love, sounds like love, but often feels like confusion. She tells me I mean the world to her. She says things that are intense, poetic, almost cinematic. I feel seen, chosen, even cherished—for a moment.

And then she vanishes. Not completely, not forever, but enough to leave me unsettled. She goes quiet. Emotionally unavailable. Vague. Sometimes physically absent, sometimes just unreachable in spirit. And every time I try to name this shift, she deflects. I end up questioning myself instead. Was I too much? Too needy? Did I ask for something unreasonable, like consistency?

It’s exhausting. I keep trying to modulate myself into someone easier to love—less reactive, more chilled, not so sensitive. But the truth is, I feel destabilised. I don’t know if I’m in love or just addicted to the hope of it.

How do I trust love when it keeps retreating? How do I know what’s real?

Sincerely,

Someone Trying Not to Lose the Plot

Dear Someone Trying Not to Lose the Plot,

Let me begin with this: your instincts are working. Your feelings aren’t overreactions—they’re data. Emotional intelligence doesn’t mean being perfectly composed while your needs go unmet. It means noticing when something doesn’t feel right—and you are.

You’re describing the kind of inconsistency that chips away at self-trust. Intimacy followed by withdrawal. Big declarations of love followed by cool silences. This isn’t romantic mystery; it’s emotional confusion dressed up as chemistry.

It’s common in these dynamics to start questioning yourself. You might begin to think that the problem is your sensitivity, your timing, your tone. But more often, the real problem is this: you’re trying to attach to someone whose signals are scrambled. You reach for closeness and they drift. You ask for clarity and they vanish into abstraction. You’re not needy—you’re looking for relational safety.

In attachment terms, what you’re experiencing is anxiety that arises when connection is unpredictable. The bond keeps going offline. You’re responding the way any healthy system would: by trying to restore it. But this chase—this contortion of self—is not a sustainable way to love.

So what to do?

Start by getting honest with yourself about what you actually need—not what you’re willing to settle for, not what you hope she’ll become, but what allows you to feel grounded in connection. That might sound like:

• “I need emotional presence, not just poetic words.”
• “I need someone who doesn’t disappear when things get real.”
• “I need love that’s not just felt, but followed through.”

If you’re ready to talk to her, keep it simple and grounded in your experience. You might say:

“When things feel close and then suddenly distant, it knocks me off balance. I’m not blaming—I’m telling you how it lands.”

“I want to build something steady. Right now I feel like I’m always guessing where we stand.”

If she’s open, the conversation might deepen your connection. If she deflects, invalidates, or disappears again—well, that’s clarity too, even if it hurts.

And yes, people show love in different ways. But “different love language” shouldn’t be code for “you do all the work.” If her way of loving consistently leaves you confused or lonely, then the mismatch matters—no matter how sincere the feelings.

Love doesn’t need to speak the same language to thrive, but if you’re the only one doing the translating, you’re not in a relationship—you’re in a monologue with subtitles. 

Sincerely,

Charlotte Fox Weber