Healing Core Wounds: Why the Work Happens in Relationship

This week, in a session with my shadow work coach, she said something that cracked open my perspective:

Relationship patterns can only be healed in relationship. Yes, read this again.

It’s deceptively simple—and it shifted the way I saw a lot of my past. So I wanted to share some reflections with you. For the sake of this post, I’m focusing on romantic relationships, though this can apply to any deep emotional bond.

If you’ve found yourself stuck in repeated patterns in love—or witnessed it in people you care about—this might resonate.

What Is a Core Wound?

There are many theories about core wounds. At their essence, they’re the emotional injuries that shape our deepest triggers. Often invisible to us, they can be traced back to childhood experiences, early attachment ruptures, or even—if you’re open to the idea—ancestral or karmic patterns. (Skip that part if it’s not your jam.)

These wounds tend to revolve around themes like rejection, abandonment, unworthiness, or shame. And because they’re often formed in relationship, they tend to resurface in relationship.

That said, core wounds are not the only force shaping our relationships. Relationships are beautifully complex—shaped by values, communication styles, cultural context, timing, life circumstances, neurobiology, and more. Core wounds offer one lens—not the whole picture.

Let’s walk through an example.

Amanda and the Wound of Rejection

Meet Amanda. Her core wound is rejection.

Each time Amanda has expressed her authentic self—her quirks, desires, perspectives—she’s felt dismissed or judged. Sometimes the rejection has been overt (“That’s not okay”), and sometimes it’s subtle—a change in tone, a silence heavy with disapproval. Over time, she’s internalized these messages and learned to wear a mask.

She adapts herself—smoothing edges, shifting language, playing roles that others find more acceptable. It helps her feel safe, but it also distances her from her core truth. The wound doesn’t go away; it simply retreats into the shadows.

Unconsciously, Amanda wants to heal this wound. And so, like many of us, she finds herself pulled toward partners who—ironically—mirror the very dynamics that hurt her. This isn’t masochism. It’s her psyche trying to resolve something that feels unresolved.

Let’s look at how that plays out.

Lover A: The Dominant Mirror

Lover A is confident, opinionated, charismatic. Amanda feels drawn to him—he seems so sure of himself. But soon, there’s no space for her voice. To keep the peace (and avoid rejection), she merges with him. She adopts his interests, his tone, his way of being.

For a while, it works. She feels “chosen.” But eventually, her authentic self fights to emerge. And when she begins to show up differently, Lover A recoils—“You’ve changed.” “Who even are you now?”

Amanda is faced with a familiar choice: silence herself again, or leave and risk the pain of rejection once more.

Lover B: The Respectable Ideal

Lover B comes with all the external markers of respectability—career, family, beliefs, values. Amanda feels validated just being with him. This must be love. But she doesn’t realize she’s stepped into a dynamic with its own trap.

Lover B, unbeknownst to her, is a people-pleaser. He values harmony and appearances. Amanda is adored when she fits the mold. But when she doesn’t—when her choices, opinions, or background don’t align with his internal checklist—conflict brews.

Again, Amanda finds herself at the crossroads: suppress or risk rejection.

Why We Repeat the Pattern

What’s happening here?

Amanda isn’t broken. She’s doing what all humans do—subconsciously recreating scenarios that mirror her original wound. Her system is hoping this time, the story ends differently. This is what Carl Jung called the compulsion to repeat—the psyche’s attempt to master unresolved emotional pain.

But here’s the twist: we can’t heal this wound alone. No amount of journaling, affirmations, or solo healing will fully integrate it. We need to be in relationship—with someone safe enough—to create a new ending.

When the Pattern Starts to Shift

Eventually, when Amanda becomes aware of her wound and starts feeling safer in her own skin, she’ll start attracting different kinds of partners. These partners might:

• Be doing their own healing work, and show up willing to co-regulate and grow together, or

• Have strengths in areas Amanda feels raw—offering gentle grounding rather than re-triggering the wound

No relationship is perfect. Even with a conscious partner, the wound may still get poked. But now Amanda has tools, awareness, and—perhaps most importantly—she isn’t navigating it alone. That’s what begins to build resilience and self-trust.

The Takeaway

Healing a core wound is rarely tidy. It’s messy, vulnerable, and often painful. But it’s also one of the most meaningful journeys we can take.

Because on the other side of the repetition, beyond the masks and the heartbreak, are relationships that don’t just function—they nourish. Relationships where authenticity isn’t just allowed—it’s cherished.

So if you’re in the thick of it, looping through another painful dynamic, don’t rush to “fix” yourself. Get curious. What is your system trying to heal?

And what might shift if you gave that wound a bit of compassion—and let someone safe sit with you in it?

Journal Prompts to Explore Your Core Wounds

1. When was the first time I remember feeling this kind of hurt in a relationship?(What happened, and how did I make sense of it at the time?)

2. What parts of myself do I tend to hide or shrink in close relationships?(What am I afraid might happen if I show up fully?)

3. What would it feel like to be loved without needing to change or adapt?(What images, words, or sensations come to mind?)

Disclaimer

This post is a personal reflection and not a substitute for professional mental health care. Relationships are multifaceted, and if you’re navigating deep emotional patterns or trauma, I encourage you to work with a licensed therapist or qualified practitioner.