5 Ways to Stop Romanticizing Love-Bombing with God's Help

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You know what makes it so hard to stop missing them? You’re remembering the person who made an ordinary Tuesday feel like the opening scene of a love story. You’re at a little restaurant overlooking the ocean. Beyond the windows, the last sunlight spills across the water in ribbons of gold and pink. A candle flickers between you. The room smells like warm bread, roasted garlic, and the cologne you will later recognize in a crowded store—and suddenly forget what you came to buy. Outside, palm trees sway against a lavender sky. Inside, their knee brushes yours beneath the table. They lean forward. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.” And you believe them. Of course you do. They’ve spent the evening listening as though every word you say belongs in a book they cannot put down. They remember your favorite song. They ask about the dream you stopped mentioning because other people always found a reason it wouldn’t work. When dessert arrives, they slide the plate toward you. “First bite is yours.” After dinner, you walk beside the water. The air smells of salt and damp sand. You’re a little cold, and before you say anything, their jacket settles around your shoulders. Someone has noticed. They take your hand and talk about the future. A weekend away. A house with a porch. Christmas mornings together. You can almost see it: white curtains, two coffee cups on the counter, sunlight falling across a kitchen where you are loved without having to earn it. Then your phone glows on the nightstand. Already miss you. And a tired, guarded part of your heart whispers, “Maybe I can finally relax.” That is the memory that visits after the relationship ends. It rarely brings the whole story. It doesn’t begin with the night you cried in your car. It doesn’t lead with the cruel remark, the broken promise, or the conversation where you apologized for being hurt. It brings the candle. The jacket. The feeling of being someone’s first choice. You wonder whether leaving was a mistake. Before you send that message, ask yourself: What happened to that tenderness when I needed honesty, respect, or the freedom to say no?

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I'm Shannon Alder, life coach and author of The Narcissistic Abuse Recovery Bible. Welcome to the Toxic Relationships Podcast. And I'm joined by my sidekick, Pastor Jake O'Connell. Jake, glad to have you back. Jake is going to hang out with us till we find a new cohost. It didnt work out with Caleb Hayes. Oh well.

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Before we dive in, please subscribe on YouTube. And visit shannonalder.com to subscribe and get 20% off my next book coming out in July of 2027. Its about Life After You leave a narcissist. The journey still continues after you leave them.

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Let's start with the first way: Ask God to help you remember the whole story. Our memory can become a very selective film editor. It keeps the flowers, the compliments, and the romantic weekend. The scene where you spent two hours defending yourself against an accusation has apparently been cut for time. Especially when you're lonely, the beginning can look brighter than it did while you were living through the entire relationship. You remember feeling loved. You temporarily forget how much energy you spent trying to feel that way again.

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Exactly. Write two headings on a page: 'What I miss' and 'What also happened.' Under the first, you might write: 'They made me feel important.' Under the second: 'They dismissed my feelings when I needed accountability.' Or: 'They talked about building a future.' Then: 'They repeatedly broke promises that affected my present.' Read both sides when nostalgia becomes persuasive. This exercise gives the painful memories the same opportunity to speak as the pleasant ones.

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That leads us to the second way: Separate feeling chosen from being loved well. Sometimes what you miss most is who you felt like at the beginning. Beautiful. Interesting. Wanted. Perhaps you had been lonely for years. Perhaps you had been overlooked in a marriage or criticized in childhood. Then somebody arrived who seemed delighted by your existence. Of course that mattered. But someone's desire for you does not automatically tell you how they will treat you.

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If you miss companionship, make room for healthy connection. If you miss encouragement, spend time with people who support your growth. If you miss feeling chosen, bring that longing to God without judging yourself for having it. Ephesians 2:10 describes believers as God's workmanship. Your worth reaches deeper than another person's attention. You mattered before their first message. You mattered when their behavior changed. And you matter now, even when your phone is quiet.

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Now the third way: Release the job of bringing the beginning back. You may have spent much of the relationship trying to recover those first weeks. You chose your words carefully. You gave more chances. You became patient with things you would once have questioned immediately. You thought, 'If I can stop upsetting them, maybe we can be happy again.' Soon, you were treating basic kindness like a prize you could win through excellent behavior.

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A tender memory cannot answer those questions by itself. If they come back saying, 'Remember what we had,' you can remember—and still take your time. Look for specific accountability, respect for your boundaries, and sustained changes in behavior. An emotional conversation may express regret; lasting repair requires more. You can also choose not to resume the relationship. You do not owe someone renewed access because they say they have changed.

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The fourth way: Stop giving nostalgia unlimited access. Sometimes we pray for help moving forward while repeatedly opening the things that pull us backward. We reread the messages. We watch the vacation video. We check their social media. Then we investigate the person standing beside them with the determination of someone solving an international jewel theft. An hour later, we feel worse. Memories can arrive unexpectedly. But certain habits invite them to stay.

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Prepare for the moments when you feel most tempted. Perhaps evenings are difficult. Perhaps holidays make you lonely. Perhaps their birthday suddenly convinces you that texting them would demonstrate exceptional Christian maturity. Pause. Ask: 'What am I hoping this message will give me?' An apology? Reassurance? Proof that I mattered? Then ask: 'Has this person reliably given me that?' Bring the answer to God.

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And the fifth way: Learn to recognize steady love. After dramatic highs and painful lows, consistency may feel unfamiliar. Someone says they will call, and then calls. They disagree without insulting you. You tell them you need an evening to yourself, and they wish you a good evening. There is no disappearance to decode. No dramatic reunion. No bouquet arriving after three days of emotional confusion. You may wonder where the excitement went.

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Notice the friend who checks on you without needing a favor. The family member who accepts your boundary. The person who apologizes without blaming you in the next sentence. Let these experiences help shape your expectations. You do not have to begin dating to prove you have moved on. Build a life you enjoy inhabiting. Return to an interest you abandoned. Make plans you can anticipate. Practice expressing a preference without preparing a courtroom defense.

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You know, Jake, one thing that often keeps people stuck is the fear that if they stop romanticizing the love-bombing, they'll be left with nothing but pain. But that's not true. God can redeem even the painful memories. He can teach us what true love looks like. And He can bring people into our lives who love us steadily, without the drama.

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And that healing often happens in community. We weren't meant to walk this path alone. So if you're struggling, reach out. Join a support group. Talk to a trusted pastor or counselor. Let others remind you of what is true when your own heart feels confused. You don't have to carry this by yourself.

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I love that. And remember, forgiveness doesn't mean reconciliation. You can forgive someone from a distance. You can release them to God and still keep your boundaries. Forgiveness is about freeing your own heart from bitterness, not about giving them access to hurt you again. It's a gift you give yourself.

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And as you walk in that freedom, don't be surprised if you start to notice healthy love in new ways. It might not feel as intense as the love-bombing, but it will feel safe. It will feel like home. It will feel like a place where you can breathe and be yourself. And that's worth waiting for.

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Thank you for that reminder, Jake. Let's pray. Heavenly Father, You know the memories I keep returning to. You know how much I wanted this relationship to become what it seemed to promise. Help me remember honestly. When loneliness makes the beginning look perfect, remind me of the whole story with gentleness and clarity. Heal the places in me that depend on someone else's attention to feel valuable. Give me strength to keep the boundaries I need, especially when I feel tempted to reopen contact.

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You may still miss those early days. A song may bring them back. A familiar scent may catch you off guard. You may remember that evening beside the ocean and wish things had turned out differently. That does not erase your progress. You can miss a moment and keep a boundary. You can grieve a hope and build a new life. And when your mind returns to the candle, the jacket, and the promises, gently bring it back to the whole story. Then ask God to help you take the next step into your own.

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Thank you, Jake. And thank you all for listening. Don't forget to subscribe on YouTube, and visit shannonalder.com to get 20% off my next book coming out in July of 2027. Until next time, take care of yourself and keep healing.