Studies on childhood neglect keep landing on the same uncomfortable finding: kids who grow up without consistent affection don’t lose the capacity to love, they lose the capacity to receive it. The wiring that should have been laid down at six, seven, eight, when a parent’s hand on your back said “you’re safe here,” never quite gets installed. So the love still finds them at thirty, forty, fifty. They just can’t figure out where to put it.

Honestly, I didn’t really get this until I dated someone who physically tensed up every time I tried to show affection. Not because she didn’t want it, but because her body literally didn’t know what to do with it.

That relationship taught me something profound about how our earliest experiences shape our ability to receive love decades later.

The body keeps score

Think about it. When you’re six years old and crying, what happens next becomes your blueprint for comfort. If someone picks you up and holds you, your nervous system learns that vulnerability brings safety. But if no one comes, or worse, if you’re told to stop being dramatic, your body memorizes a different lesson entirely.

Fast forward thirty years. Your partner reaches out to comfort you, and instead of relaxing into their touch, you find yourself pulling away. Not consciously. Your mind might desperately want that connection, but your body is still operating on programming written when you were wearing velcro shoes.

And the thing is, this isn’t some rare glitch. It’s almost a rule.

Psychology Today notes that “Your preferred love language is what you missed most in childhood.” Let that sink in for a moment. The very thing you crave most is often what was absent when you needed it most.

Why compliments feel like lies

Here’s something that might surprise you. Marisa Franco, Ph.D., shares that “According to one study, people with low self-esteem agree with statements like ‘I feel like I don’t know exactly who I am after getting a compliment,’ and ‘When I am complimented, sometimes I feel like the other person clearly doesn’t know me.'”

I’ve been there. Someone tells you you’re amazing, and instead of feeling good, you feel… exposed? Like they’ve mistaken you for someone else? And look, I don’t think this is some neutral both-sides thing where deflecting compliments is just a charming personality quirk. It’s a wound. It’s your six-year-old self telling you not to trust the warm hand on your shoulder because warm hands historically came with conditions, or didn’t come at all.

Growing up in Melbourne as the quiet one among three brothers, I spent years observing rather than participating. When praise did come my way, it felt foreign, like wearing someone else’s clothes. The discomfort wasn’t about the praise itself, it was about not having the internal framework to receive it.

The push-pull dance of intimacy

Remember that person I mentioned earlier? When she finally explained what was happening inside her head, it all made sense. Every time I moved closer, part of her wanted to run. Not from me, but from the intensity of feeling something she’d never learned how to hold.

Psychology Today describes this perfectly: “Adults with a fearful-avoidant attachment usually live in an ambivalent state in which they are both frightened of being too close to or too distant from others.”

It’s exhausting, really. Wanting something so badly while simultaneously being terrified of having it. Like being starving but unable to swallow. The cruel irony? The people who need love the most often have the hardest time letting it in.

When change isn’t enough

What really breaks my heart is watching couples where one partner does everything right, and it still doesn’t work.

Hara Estroff Marano explains: “According to Harville Hendrix, Ph.D., and his wife Helen LaKelly Hunt, Ph.D., coauthors of Receiving Love, Transform Your Relationship by Letting Yourself Be Loved, such praise-resistance is nearly universal—and it’s why many relationships don’t get better even when one partner dramatically changes patterns of behavior to say and do all the right things.”

You can bring flowers every day, say all the right words, be the perfect partner on paper, and still watch your loved one struggle to receive what you’re offering. Not because they don’t love you back, but because their nervous system is still protecting them from a danger that no longer exists.

The science of healing

The research on this is sobering. Studies have found that individuals who experienced childhood abuse and neglect were more likely to have difficulties in adult intimate relationships, including issues with attachment security and relationship functioning.

But here’s what the research also shows: the brain is plastic. Those old patterns, while deeply ingrained, aren’t permanent.

Through my work writing “Hidden Secrets of Buddhism: How To Live With Maximum Impact and Minimum Ego” (available here), I’ve explored how mindfulness practices can help rewire these ancient protective mechanisms. It’s not about forgetting the past or pretending it didn’t happen. It’s about teaching your nervous system that the present is different from the past.

Learning a new choreography

So how do you learn to receive love when your body never learned the steps?

Start small. Really small. Notice when you deflect a compliment and just… don’t. Sit with the discomfort for three seconds before responding. When someone offers help, accept it even if you don’t need it. Practice receiving in low-stakes situations so your nervous system can learn it’s safe.

Pay attention to your body’s responses. Does your chest tighten when someone says something kind? Do you hold your breath during hugs? These physical reactions are data, not destiny. Once you notice them, you can start to work with them. And honestly, you’re going to have to be patient in a way that probably feels unreasonable, because you’re essentially learning a language you should have learned as a child, except now you’re learning it with the full weight of adult self-consciousness pressing down on you, and every awkward attempt feels like proof that something’s wrong with you, when really it’s just proof that you’re trying.

Find a therapist who understands attachment and trauma if you can. This isn’t something you have to figure out alone, and frankly, it’s almost impossible to rewire these patterns without support. There’s going to be days where it works and days where it doesn’t, and the days where it doesn’t aren’t a verdict on whether you’re capable of love. They’re just days.

Final thoughts

Working through my own anxiety and overactive mind in my twenties taught me something: healing isn’t linear, and it definitely isn’t quick. But it is possible.

The adults who grew up with little affection aren’t broken. They’re not incapable of love. They’re just operating with an outdated user manual, one written by a child who was doing their best to survive.

If you recognize yourself in these words, know this: your suspicion of love makes perfect sense. Your body is trying to protect you the only way it knows how. But you’re not six anymore, and the love that’s arriving now might just be the real thing.

Whether you can let it in, though, that’s a different question. Some days you will. Some days the choreography will feel like trying to dance in someone else’s shoes, and the music will end before you’ve figured out the first step. That’s the part nobody really tells you.