Have you ever wondered why you always fall in love with the wrong person? Why does your heart insist on choosing precisely those who cannot reciprocate your feelings, who are already committed, who live far away or who simply cannot love anyone? Perhaps you 've noticed a disturbing pattern. The more unapproachable someone is, the more intense their interest becomes. The less emotional availability a person shows, the more attracted you feel. The truth is that there is a specific psychological wound operating in your soul, driving your love choices like an invisible autopilot. Carl Jung, the pioneer of depth psychology, discovered that our most intense attractions are rarely born by chance. They spring from unhealed wounds that live in the unconscious, desperately seeking a resolution that never comes through the path we choose. In this video, you will discover exactly what wound is behind this compulsion to love someone who can't give you anything. And most importantly, you will understand how this same wound, when recognized and healed, can become the key to truly satisfying relationships. Because the problem isn't that you love the wrong people, it's that you're loving for the wrong reasons. And that could change today. If you have the courage to look at your own shadows and transform your love life, stay until the end. Because what Jung discovered about these wounds can free you from patterns that may have been repeating themselves for years without you understanding why. Carl Jung understood that many of our adult relational patterns originate from wounds that were formed very early on, when our psyche was still structuring itself. The wound that most often leads someone to love unavailable people is what Jung would identify as the abandonment complex, a psychological structure formed when a child experiences the absence of consistent, secure love. This wound does not necessarily arise from dramatic trauma. it can be as subtle as parents being emotionally unavailable, even if physically present. A mother who was always too busy for true emotional intimacy. A father who offered love conditional on correct behavior, caregivers who alternated between affection and coldness unpredictably, or simply the feeling that you had to earn love through performance. instead of receiving it as a natural right. The child's psyche interprets these experiences in a very specific way. If the people who should love me unconditionally can't , there must be something fundamentally wrong with me. This unconscious conclusion becomes a core belief that filters all future relational experiences. The injured child does not think consciously. My parents have emotional limitations. She concludes: "I am unlovable. This wound creates a complex psychological dynamic. On the one hand, there is a desperate hunger for love and validation. On the other, there is a deep terror of true intimacy. Because intimacy has always been associated with the possibility of abandonment. The result is a magnetic attraction to situations that replicate the original pattern. Loving someone who cannot fully reciprocate. The abandonment wound acts like an emotional magnet. Subconsciously, you are drawn to people who recreate the original family dynamic. Not because you want to suffer, but because your psyche is trying to resolve the trauma through repetition. It's as if the unconscious is saying, "This time it will be different." This time I will be able to make this person love me. And when I do, I will finally be healed." But Jung understood that this unconscious logic is flawed. Healing doesn't come from finally getting love from someone who can't give it; it comes from recognizing the wound, understanding its origins, and developing the ability to nurture oneself in ways that one's primary caregivers couldn't . The person suffering from abandonment often reports feelings familiar from impossible relationships: constant anxiety about where the other is, the need for continuous signs of interest, and the interpretation of any distancing as personal rejection. These feelings are direct echoes of the wounded child, who still lives within the psyche, reacting to each current situation as if it were a repetition of the original abandonment. Jung developed fundamental concepts that explain why wounded people feel irresistibly drawn to what they can't have. The first is the concept of projection, the psychological mechanism through which we place aspects of ourselves onto another that we can't directly recognize. When you have an unresolved abandonment wound , you often project an almost divine quality onto the inaccessible person . They become not just a human being with limitations, but the embodiment of everything you believe you need to feel complete. Jung would call this anima projection . You see in the unattainable person your own inner counterpart, that part of yourself that has been fragmented by the original wound. This projection explains why love for unattainable people is often so intense and idealized. You're not just falling in love with who the person is, you're falling in love with a fantasy version that represents all the qualities your wound has convinced you you lack . It's as if the unattainable person holds the key to your own completeness. The second crucial Jungian concept is the repetition compulsion. The unconscious has a powerful tendency to recreate familiar situations, even when those situations are painful. To the wounded psyche, the familiar, even if uncomfortable, always feels safer than the unfamiliar. Therefore, healthy, available relationships can seem dull, or even frightening, to those accustomed to the dramatic intensity of loving someone who cannot reciprocate. Jung also identified a fundamental difference between neurotic need and genuine love. The need Neurotic love arises from neediness. You need the person to feel whole, valid, and worthy. Genuine love, however, arises from inner abundance. You love because you have love to give, not because you need something in return. People with abandonment wounds often confuse emotional intensity with loving depth. Anxiety, obsession, and the constant need for reassurance are interpreted as signs of true love. But Jung observed that these are actually manifestations of the wound. The wounded child within you is screaming for attention, not loving maturely. The attraction to the unattainable also serves a specific psychological function. It keeps you safe from true intimacy. While chasing someone who can't have you completely, you avoid the very real risk of being seen, known, and possibly rejected for who you truly are. It's a sophisticated form of emotional self-sabotage. Another crucial aspect is how the wound distorts your perception of self-worth. If you unconsciously believe you don't deserve available and generous love, you'll feel uncomfortable when someone offers just that. An accessible and interested person can awaken your wound in a different way, making you feel asking, "What's wrong with her that she's interested in me?" Jung understood that these patterns are not character flaws, but the psyche's attempts to heal old wounds through inappropriate means. The compulsion to love someone who can't reciprocate is a search for healing disguised as romance. The problem is that this search is directed outward, when true healing can only happen from within. The abandonment wound creates a specific psychological mechanism that Jung would recognize as pathological idealization. When you love someone who can't give you anything, you're often loving the real person, but an idealized version that your wounded psyche has constructed to represent everything you believe you need for happiness. This idealization works like an emotional drug. The unapproachable person becomes perfect precisely because they remain distant. You never have to confront their real human limitations, their everyday flaws, their moodiness or vulgarity. They remain crystallized in a romanticized version that fuels your fantasies of completeness. This dynamic is particularly seductive because it allows you to live in a world of infinite possibilities. As long as the person remains Unattainable, you can project onto them any quality you desire. You can imagine perfect conversations, moments of ideal intimacy, a mutual understanding that transcends the limitations of reality. It's like living in a romance that never has to face the test of real life, but this idealization exacts a heavy psychological toll. First, it keeps you emotionally invested in something that can't materialize, draining energy that could be directed toward real, possible relationships. Second, it reinforces the original wound, unconsciously confirming that true love is always unattainable. Idealization also distorts your ability to assess real compatibility. When you're in love with a projection, you're not considering whether you and this person would actually work well together in everyday life. You 're not asking whether your values align, whether your life rhythms are compatible, whether you have similar visions of the future. You're simply assuming that the intensity of your feeling is evidence of romantic destiny. Behind romantic idealization is often an attempt to avoid the real work of personal development. It's easier to fantasize about how perfect life with the idealized person would be than to confront your own standards. limiting feelings, heal your wounds, and develop the capacity for authentic intimacy. The idealized person also becomes an escape from the present reality. Instead of investing energy in improving your current life, developing professionally, cultivating friendships, and exploring your talents, you may find yourself lost in daydreams about a hypothetical future with someone who may never be available. Another subtle aspect of idealization is how it can function as a form of emotional control. When you love a fantasy instead of a real person, you have complete control over how that relationship develops in your mind. You never have to negotiate, compromise, deal with real conflict, or grow through the natural frictions of a genuine relationship. Jung also identified that romantic idealization often masks a deep fear of not being enough for a real relationship. It 's safer to love someone unavailable because if it doesn't work out, you can blame the circumstances, not your own suitability as a partner. It's a subtle way of avoiding authentic vulnerability. Healing idealization begins with the honest recognition that you 're loving a projection, not a person. This doesn't lessen the intensity of what you feel, but it helps. Contextualize these feelings as symptoms of a wound that needs attention, not as evidence of romantic destiny. Our psyches are attracted to different types of unavailability based on the specific nature of our primal wounds. It's no coincidence that you're drawn to certain forms of emotional detachment. Each type resonates with specific aspects of your abandonment complex. The first type is circumstantial unavailability. People who are literally committed to others, live far away, or have responsibilities that prevent a full relationship. This type of attraction often indicates a wound related to feeling unworthy of complete attention. Subconsciously, you feel more comfortable with crumbs of affection because that's what you received when your psyche was forming. The second type is emotional unavailability. People who are physically present but psychologically distant. They may be narcissists, workaholics, emotionally immature, or simply incapable of deep intimacy. This attraction often indicates a wound related to caregivers who were physically present but emotionally absent. You learned early on that love comes with emotional detachment. The third type is intermittent unavailability, where people alternate between moments of intense connection and periods of inexplicable withdrawal. This pattern is particularly addictive because it perfectly mimics the inconsistent emotional environment that creates abandonment wounds. You never know when you'll receive affection, which keeps your nervous system on constant alert, interpreting every moment of attention as extraordinarily valuable. I would also identify projected unavailability. This is when you're attracted to people who are actually available, but your wound makes them seem distant. You interpret neutrality as rejection, pause as abandonment, the need for space as disinterest. In this case, the unavailability isn't in the person, but in your perception, distorted by the wound. There's also self-imposed unavailability, when you unconsciously choose people you know won't reciprocate as a way to maintain control over the level of intimacy. This usually indicates a very deep wound related to the fear of abandonment. It's safer to love someone we already know won't give themselves completely than to risk giving yourself to someone who might leave us later. Each type... Unavailability offers a specific solution to your wound, but they are all false solutions. Circumstantial unavailability offers the illusion that you could be happy if only the circumstances were different. Emotional unavailability offers the familiarity of a familiar pattern. Intermittent unavailability offers the addictive intensity of romantic insecurity. What Jung teaches us is that these attractions are not evidence of bad luck in love, but precise maps of our internal wounds. Each person you feel inexplicably attracted to is showing you something specific about what needs healing within you. Healing begins when you stop trying to change the availability of others and begin to examine why your psyche is attracted to unavailability. When you understand that this attraction is a symptom, not a destiny, you can begin to make different conscious choices. Jung discovered that loving someone unavailable creates a neurological cycle literally comparable to substance addiction. The brain receives small, irregular doses of reward—a special look, a loving message, a moment of attention—keeping the reward system activated indefinitely. This dynamic operates through the reinforcement schedule. Intermittent hope. When you never know when you'll receive attention, every small gesture becomes exponentially more valuable. It's the same mechanism as gambling. The uncertainty of the next win keeps you investing indefinitely. People with abandonment wounds develop a specialized skill: interpreting minimal signs as evidence of reciprocated love. A warmer "good morning" becomes proof of romantic interest. A longer conversation confirms that something is changing. This emotional hypervigilance is simultaneously exhausting and addictive. It creates the feeling of having access to a secret language that others don't understand, convincing you that you 're seeing real signs that justify continuing to invest emotionally. Intermittent hope acts as a defense against the depression that would lead to a complete acceptance of reality. It's psychologically more bearable to live in a state of maybe than to definitively confront that the person can't or wo n't give you what you need. Jung understood that this dynamic depends not only on the other person's behavior, but on the psychological need to avoid grief. Accepting that someone can't love you would require processing the same childhood pain. When you realized your caregivers had limitations, the addiction to intermittent hope It distorts temporal perception. You can spend years investing emotionally, always believing that something will soon change. Months turn into years, years into decades, in a narrative of almost-happenings that never materialize. This dynamic also fuels your identity. You become someone who loves deeply, who doesn't give up on people, who sees potential where others don't. These qualities are noble, but applied to situations without real reciprocity, they become sophisticated forms of self-deception. Healing requires what Jung called conscious suffering, the willingness to fully feel the pain of accepting that certain situations will not change regardless of your desire. It is necessary to go through the mourning of letting go of unrealistic hope to make room for real possibilities. K. Jung understood that unhealed psychological wounds act as perceptual filters, fundamentally altering how we interpret relational experiences. When you carry a wound of abandonment, you develop a distorted version of what constitutes true love. A version that, paradoxically, keeps you trapped in patterns that perpetuate the original wound. One of the most common distortions is equating emotional intensity with loving depth. If you grew up in an emotionally unstable environment, where affection was mixed with drama, anxiety, and unpredictability, you may have unconsciously learned that true love always comes with suffering. Calm, stable relationships can seem passionless because they don't activate the same neurological circuits that associate love with adrenaline. Another common distortion is confusing neediness with love. The abandonment wound creates such intense emotional hunger that you may interpret your own neediness as evidence of deep love. When you feel a desperate need to be with someone, it's interpreted as not being able to live without them , when in reality it may just be the wound screaming for attention. Jung also observed how unresolved wounds make us romanticize relational suffering. You may develop the unconscious belief that true love always hurts, that easy relationships are superficial, that you need to fight for someone to prove you truly love them. This distortion keeps you investing energy in situations that confirm your wound instead of healing it. The wound also distorts your perception of emotional availability. People who are genuinely interested and emotionally accessible may seem overly needy or lacking in mystery. Masark, you might interpret direct interest as a sign that something is wrong with the person, because someone with integrity would be interested in you. This self-esteem distortion makes you suspicious of those who show genuine interest. There's also the temporal distortion. The wound can make you believe that true love happens instantly or never happens at all. You may feel that if there's no immediate chemistry or instant recognition, then it's not worth investing in. This causes you to miss out on opportunities for relationships that could gradually develop into more solid and lasting forms. Jung also identified the reciprocity distortion. The wound can make you believe that true love is one-sided, that you should love without expectations of return, that asking for reciprocity is selfish, that the value of your love is measured by the ability to give without receiving. This distortion keeps you in unbalanced relationships indefinitely. Another subtle distortion is the belief that conflict means relational failure. If you grew up in an environment where conflict led to abandonment, you may have developed a terror of any friction in relationships. This makes you avoid real relationships, where natural differences need to be negotiated, preferring romantic fantasies. where everything flows perfectly and effortlessly. The wound can also distort your perception of healthy boundaries. You may interpret someone who sets boundaries, needs time alone, has other priorities, or isn't always available as signs of rejection. This makes you attracted to people who lack clear boundaries, who may merge with you emotionally in ways that seem intense but are actually dysfunctional. Healing these distortions requires the gradual development of emotional discernment. Jung would call this differentiation, the ability to distinguish between impulses from the wound and perceptions based on present reality. It's a process that requires patience, self-compassion, and often professional help to challenge beliefs that may seem absolutely true but are actually products of the wound. Carl Jung revolutionized our understanding of relationships by demonstrating how we unconsciously project aspects of ourselves onto others. In the context of loving someone who can give us nothing, projection plays a central role, keeping us stuck in patterns that seem external but are creations of our own wounded psyche. The most common projection is of the anima, or moods. We project onto the unreachable person our own against an inner part fragmented by the original wound. If you had an emotionally unavailable mother, you may project onto distant women the perfect mother you never had. This dynamic creates a situation where you not only seek romantic love but also attempt to heal parental wounds through your partner, who becomes a repository of all the unmet needs of childhood. There is also the projection of completeness. When you project onto the unreachable person all the qualities your wound has convinced you you lack. If you feel inadequate, you project total adequacy. If you feel empty, you project fullness. The person literally becomes what you believe you need to become whole. There is also the projection of the wound. When you project aspects of your own wound that you cannot recognize, feeling attracted to people who clearly will abandon you, the projection functions as a mechanism for avoiding personal responsibility, keeping the tension directed outward instead of confronting internal limiting patterns . Jung made a crucial distinction between experiences that heal wounds and those that simply repeat them in a sophisticated way. Repetition disguised as healing occurs when you rationalize the destructive pattern with spiritual or psychological language, claiming that you are learning. to love unconditionally or grow through challenge. But if the result is always the same suffering due to someone's unavailability, you're repeating: not healing. True healing always involves expanding consciousness and producing concrete changes in behavior. tional. You start to feel attracted to available people, develop a tolerance for normal relationships, and establish healthy boundaries. Authentic healing honors the psyche's natural timing and produces increasing self-compassion, while repetition is accompanied by self-criticism. Deep wounds cannot be resolved by rational decision, but when you create adequate internal conditions , self-compassion, patience, and a willingness to feel without resistance, healing produces differentiation, the ability to distinguish between the wound and current reality, stopping interpreting the entire situation through the lens of the wound. Jung saw suffering as a gateway to individuation, the process of becoming truly who you are, integrating fragmented aspects of the psyche. The first stage is recognition, developing the ability to observe when the wound directs your choices without judgment. The wound is not a defect to be eliminated, but part of the psychological history that carries valuable information. The second stage is the descent into the unconscious, a willingness to fully feel the emotions the wound carries, including primal terror of abandonment and profound sadness. During this descent, you may discover aspects hidden behind the wound. Capacity for deep love, refined sensitivity, sharp intuition. The third stage is differentiation, distinguishing between wound impulses and authentic desires. Jun emphasized the importance of feeding the soul, developing relationships and activities that nourish the psyche in healthy ways. The final stage is conjuntio oin union of opposites, integrating the capacity to love deeply with discernment about where to invest that love. When individuation is complete, you don't stop feeling for inaccessible people, but your relationship to those feelings changes completely. You may recognize that it's more about your psyche than actual compatibility. The end result is not someone who does not feel intensely, but who can feel deeply, maintaining clarity about reality, becoming capable of mature love with presence, reciprocity and respect for boundaries. What K Jung teaches us is that our deepest wounds, when brought to consciousness, integrated with wisdom, can transform into our greatest gifts. The wound that once made you love inaccessible people can become a refined sensitivity that makes you exceptionally adept at recognizing authentic relational dynamics . When you have experienced loving someone who couldn't love you back and have been able to gain awareness from that experience, you develop a kind of emotional radar. You can tell very quickly when someone is emotionally available or when they are just projecting availability in situations that are actually repeats of old patterns. This wisdom also extends to your ability to offer presence to others who may be going through similar struggles. When you have truly understood your own wound and done the work of healing it, you can recognize that same wound in others without judgment. This doesn't mean you become responsible for healing others, but you can offer understanding and mirroring, which can be profoundly healing. Jung notes that people who have done the work of integrating their wounds often develop what he would call the transcendent function, the ability to hold paradoxes and tensions without needing to hastily resolve them . In the relational context, this means that you can feel attraction to someone and simultaneously recognize that this attraction may not be based on real compatibility. You can love someone and still choose not to act on that love if it doesn't serve the well-being of both of you. The transformation of the wound also produces a different form of intimacy. Instead of seeking emotional fusion or completeness through another, you learn to value what Jung would call conscious relating, connections where both people maintain their individuality while choosing to share their lives. This creates a kind of intimacy that is both deep and sustainable. Another important transformation is the development of what we might call conscious love. Instead of the neurotic love that arises from lack, you develop the capacity to love from fullness. This doesn't mean that you become less capable of deep feelings, but that those feelings arise from a place of conscious choice rather than unconscious compulsion. The transformed wound also teaches him about divine timing. You learn that not all feelings need to be converted into immediate action. Sometimes loving someone means allowing them to go their own way. Sometimes it means waiting until you 're both ready for a kind of relationship that honors both of your dignity. And sometimes it means recognizing that certain connections are meant to remain at the soul level, not necessarily materializing into conventional relationships. Jung also talked about how integrated wounds connect us to something greater than ourselves. When you deeply understand your own abandonment wound, you develop natural compassion for all humanity because you recognize that in some way we carry relational wounds. This can awaken a sense of purpose that goes beyond the pursuit of personal satisfaction. Finally, the wound transformed into wisdom teaches him the true meaning of unconditional love. Not the love that accepts any behavior because it is afraid of being alone, but the love that honors both its own dignity and that of the other. Love that can say no when necessary, set boundaries when appropriate, and still keep its heart open to genuine possibilities. When your wound becomes wisdom, you do not lose the capacity for deep love. You gain the ability to direct it in ways that serve life, growth, and genuine joy. And it is precisely this transformation that makes him magnetic to people who have also done their own inner work and are ready for relationships based on conscious love rather than unconscious need. If you've made it this far, it means you've had the courage to look at one of the most painful and confusing dynamics of the human experience. Jung teaches us that this courage, the willingness to examine our most self-destructive patterns with honesty and compassion, is already the first real step toward healing. The wound that makes you love someone who can give you nothing is not a character flaw or evidence that you are unworthy of love. It's an accurate map of where your soul has been fragmented and where it seeks to be restored. When you understand this, the wound stops being a blind weight that directs your choices and becomes a source of valuable information about what needs to be healed within you. Love for unapproachable people is not your destiny, but your teacher. Every person you felt inexplicably attracted to was showing you something specific about your psyche that needed attention. Every moment of suffering for someone who couldn't reciprocate was signaling aspects of yourself that were asking to be acknowledged, nurtured, and developed. Jung believed that the ultimate goal of life is not to avoid suffering, but to extract meaning from the suffering we experience. The wound of abandonment, when worked through consciously, can become one of your greatest sources of wisdom. She can teach you about healthy boundaries, about the difference between love and need, about how to nurture yourself in ways no one else can . But perhaps the most profound gift of this journey is the discovery that you are capable of healing yourself, that within you lies a capacity for restoration that does not depend on anyone else having specific behaviors, that your wholeness is not somewhere out there waiting to be found in the right person, but within, waiting to be recognized and developed. When you heal from that wound, you don't become a person who no longer feels deeply. You become someone who can feel deeply while maintaining clarity about reality. You can intensely love people who are also capable of reciprocating that love. Can create relationships based on mutual choice rather than desperate need. The freedom on the other side of the wound is not the absence of feeling, but the presence of discernment. It is the ability to distinguish between the echo of old wounds and the real possibilities of the present. It's the ability to honor your feelings without letting them drive your relational choices in self-destructive ways. If this content has awakened something deep within you, if you recognized your own story in these words, know that you are not alone on this journey. Healing is possible, transformation is real. And on the other side of the wound, there is a way of loving that is both deep and healthy, both intense and sustainable. Subscribe to the channel to continue exploring the deepest realms of the human psyche through Kung's wisdom. And if this video touched your heart, leave it in the comments. I'm ready to transform my wound. Then I will know that you have the courage to make this journey back to yourself. Your wound is not your end, it is your beginning. And from that beginning you can build a love life that honors both your depth and your dignity. Healing is waiting for you. Thank you for being here.