For a long time, I didn’t think I was bad at love — I thought I was just independent. In hindsight, I was carrying years of unresolved stuff I’d never properly dealt with, and it made real closeness feel unfamiliar, even threatening.
When I met my current partner, she was steady in a way I wasn’t used to. Calm. Available. Consistent. There were no games, no chaos, no emotional volatility. Instead of feeling comforting, that kind of stability unsettled me. I didn’t have a reference point for what a healthy relationship looked like, so I kept it at arm’s length.
What followed was about eighteen months of what you’d probably call a situationship. We weren’t fully together, but we weren’t apart either. We spent time together, connected deeply, then I’d pull back. Not because she did anything wrong, but because I hadn’t dealt with my own internal noise yet. She was ready for something real long before I was.
During that time, life was heavy. I was working through my own baggage, trying to understand myself better, and feeling the pressure of responsibility building. She stayed patient without being passive. Present without being pushy. That balance is rare.
Then one day, out of nowhere, she said something to me. It wasn’t dramatic or emotional — just honest. It landed so cleanly that it cut through years of confusion in a single moment. It was like she understood me better than I understood myself at the time. Everything clicked.
What I saw in that moment was integrity, not just words, but behaviour. Consistency. A person whose actions matched their values. Suddenly, the idea of building something real didn’t feel risky — it felt possible.
I told her to move in with me immediately. Even as the words came out, I knew how sudden it sounded. She was understandably hesitant, and instead of pushing, I did something different for once. I told her to take it at her own pace. No pressure. No ultimatums.
She moved in. Slowly. Naturally. And life didn’t implode — it expanded.
That was a few years ago now. We’ve grown together through stress, work, responsibility, and change. Recently, we welcomed our first child into the world — a now five-month-old who has somehow made everything feel even more grounded. Things didn’t get harder in the way people warned us they would. If anything, they keep getting better.
We still joke about having another — not fully joking.
Looking back, love didn’t arrive as fireworks. It arrived as clarity. As safety. As the quiet realisation that I didn’t need to brace myself anymore.
True love, for me, wasn’t about intensity or drama. It was about finding someone whose presence made life feel steadier, and finally being ready to meet that with both feet in.
Mick Owar
Founder: PrimalRecovery.net.au
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