Connection, Wounds, and What We Settle For

Some paths are unclear, but they still carry us somewhere true. Healing begins with honesty, not perfection.

We often talk about connection as if it is simple, mutual, and effortless. But in truth, many of our relationships carry the residue of old wounds, unspoken fears, and survival habits we learned long ago.

After a vivid dream, a memory, and a quiet morning of reflection, I found myself thinking about the ache that lives beneath the surface. An ache that does not just come from heartbreak, but from being misread, misunderstood, and misplaced in friendships, in love, and in life.

In cities like Hong Kong, I have witnessed a kind of social dynamic that feels more performative than supportive. Gossip often becomes the glue in social settings, a strange form of intimacy rooted in disconnection. I remember standing beside a friend who was gossiping about someone we both knew. Her boyfriend, who was not from Hong Kong, looked uncomfortable. She glanced at him and said, “It is just Hong Kong stories.”

That moment stayed with me. It was not just the casual betrayal, but the normalization of tearing someone down to feel close to others. It made me realize how often we bond through judgment rather than care.

Still, I know there are women who choose a different path. Women who lead with softness and strength, who support one another without agenda, who show up with presence and integrity. These friendships exist and I cherish them, but they feel rare.

Especially when you are single or divorced, the social gaze can shift. You are no longer simply one of the group. You become a quiet threat. Your independence, your freedom, your self-containment can stir discomfort in others, especially those still confined by roles they did not choose for themselves.

These patterns do not just appear in friendship. They echo deeply in romantic relationships too. We long for closeness, but many of us are navigating attachment styles shaped by childhood wounds. Anxious attachment clings, afraid of abandonment. Avoidant attachment pulls away, afraid of losing autonomy. Both are longing to be seen, to be met in a place of safety. I have danced between both. I have also learned how to grow beyond them.

Modern dating does not always help. Connection gets reduced to curated profiles, filtered photos, fleeting texts, and people who disappear when vulnerability gets real. We swipe through possibilities, often forgetting we are not just looking for attention. We are looking to be seen.

I have stayed in relationships that dimmed my light, mistaking chaos for chemistry, silence for peace. I have loved people who could not meet me and I have called people friends who could not celebrate me.

But I have also grown. I have come home to myself, again and again.

Real connection feels grounding. It feels honest. It does not require shapeshifting or constant self-defense. It invites presence, even when things are imperfect. It holds space for vulnerability and depth.

We do not have to settle. Not in friendship. Not in love.

If something feels off, if it drains you, if it leaves you doubting yourself more than it nourishes you, pause. Ask yourself: is this connection, or is this a familiar wound I have mistaken for love?

I recently rewatched a scene from White Lotus, where a woman, faced with a hard truth, chooses to preserve history with her friends rather than challenge what was said. It hit something deep in me. I no longer want to choose history over integrity.

I want softness without performance. I want depth without distortion. I want relationships, platonic and romantic, that feel like alignment, not survival.

So here is what I am choosing:

Connection that is clean. Honesty that is earned. Love that feels like home.

With tenderness,

Amy