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3 Red Flags You Are Romanticizing As Love, By A Psychologist

3 Red Flags You Are Romanticizing As Love, By A Psychologist

Forbes3 days ago
These three red flags might look like love, but in reality, they're clear signs that someone isn't ... More right for you. Here's how to learn the difference.
When a relationship ends despite your best efforts to make it work, you might think 'I just wanted to be loved.' Perhaps you even convince yourself that you're not meant for the love you're seeking. You may even start to feel that relationships never work out for you, and no matter how much you pour into them, you always come out empty-handed.
If this pattern holds true for most of your relationships, it doesn't mean you don't deserve healthy love. Instead, you may be replaying certain relational patterns that land you the same outcome each time.
More often than not, we mistake familiar pain for love. This is often a childhood dynamic that follows you into adult relationships. With each cycle of seeking love and failing to get it in your life, you might notice that what you've been drawn to isn't a form of love after all.
Here are three red flags we tend to misinterpret and romanticize as love, and how to identify them.
1. You Mistake Emotional Intensity For Passion
Emotional intensity in dysfunctional relationships manifests as extreme lows followed by extreme highs. You may experience intense feelings and a preoccupation with your partner that borders on obsession, or may be drawn to partners who feel this way about you.
In such a dynamic, every fight threatens to break your relationship, shake your foundation and make you question your self-worth, but every make-up comes with the certainty of forever — a mindset where you believe love will win it all no matter how hard it gets.
In such relationships, it's hard to find your footing or make space for what matters because you're always on damage control. You forget that true love offers safety without unrealistic expectations, acceptance without conditions and validation without needing to earn it.
Individuals with an anxious attachment style are especially prone to this dynamic, as emotional inconsistency can magnify their longing. This is where people often mistake unpredictability for love.
A 2018 study published in Interpersona investigated the link between emotional intensity and romantic feelings in 80 young adults. It found that moderate stress in romantic relationships can heighten romantic feelings, creating a cycle where instability feels more compelling than peace. In contrast, feelings decreased under both low and high levels of stress.
The next time you are ruminating about your relationship, ask yourself, 'Is this really pushing me toward connection or am I just addicted to intensity?'
2. You Are Chasing Validation, Not Love
When you're stuck in a romanticizing pattern, you often chase validation instead of love. What drives you — often unconsciously — is the belief that, 'If I can finally get this person to love me, then I'll be worthy.'
You seek their validation because, deep down, you may believe, 'I am not enough' — a belief that likely formed in childhood when your needs were dismissed or you were seen as too demanding.
This internalized shame shows up in relationships as striving for approval, blaming yourself when things go wrong and surrendering your agency to avoid rejection.
You don't look for someone who gets you — you look for someone to save you from addressing the aspects of yourself that you are too embarrassed to look at.
A 2019 study published in the International Journal of Psychophysiology concluded that emotional neglect was associated with reduced oxytocin levels and insecure attachment patterns which collectively predicted higher social fear and avoidance.
That is, when your need for safety is not met, it can impact you at both physiological and psychological levels, fueling the need to gain validation, avoid confrontation and re-establish a sense of safety.
So, in relationships, whenever you catch yourself overdoing it — trying too hard to show your worth or overperforming for others — it's not love you may be seeking, but validation.
Ask yourself, 'Do I really want this person to love me or do I just need them to see me — so I can finally feel worthy of loving myself?'
3. You Are Mistaking Control For Security
When people think of security in love, they think of someone they can rely on in times of need. Someone who can take the wheel from them when they are too tired to drive, take over household responsibilities while they rest or support them through a difficult time.
Emotionally, it's the equivalent of them drawing a blanket over you as you sleep. You know with certainty that they're there for you. That's what security looks like for most — the sense that no matter what life throws at them, they won't be facing it alone.
That's often not the case when you end up romanticizing control as security. These dynamics look subtle. It could be your partner:
You may mistakenly start to believe that such signs of manipulation are care.
A 2016 study published in Sex Roles investigated how certain romantic beliefs — such as idealizing love at all costs, viewing jealousy as a sign of commitment or believing that romantic relationships should be intensely emotional — are related to the tendency to romanticize controlling behaviors.
The researchers surveyed 275 heterosexual women aged 18 to 50 and found that women who endorsed these beliefs were significantly more likely to view controlling behaviors (such as jealousy, possessiveness or making decisions for the partner) as romantic. This romanticization, in turn, was related to higher reported rates of both psychological and physical intimate partner violence.
Instead of acknowledging these red flags, people may interpret them as signs of love. What feels like security may, in fact, be the normalization of control.
When you're torn between love and what's right, ask yourself, 'If my closest friend were going through this, would I still think it's okay?'
When you recognize that you may have been romanticizing red flags all along, you can finally begin to choose a connection that feels safe, steady and real.
Want to know if control dynamics are shaping your relationship? Take this science-backed test to find out: Relationship Control Scale
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'If the answer is yes, then the answer to delisting is yes.' That's why Thompson believes it's time to delist the grizzly. And he's not alone. The Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem population is 'doing very well,' says van Manen. In fact, grizzlies met their recovery goals about 20 years ago. Getting there wasn't easy. After the landfills closed and the bear population plummeted, it took a massive, decades-long effort from states, tribes, federal biologists, and nonprofits to bring the grizzlies back. The various entities funded bear-proof trash systems for people living in towns near the national parks and strung electric fences around tempting fruit orchards. They developed safety workshops for people living in or visiting bear country, and tracked down poachers. And little by little, it worked. Bear numbers swelled, and by the mid-2000s, more than 600 bears roamed the Yellowstone area. Given this success, the US Fish and Wildlife Service proposed delisting the grizzlies for the first time in late 2005. Environmental groups sued, arguing bears needed continued federal protection as whitebark pine, an important food source, diminished. Bears could starve, groups maintained, and their populations could plummet again. But a subsequent federal study of what, exactly, grizzly bears eat, found that while grizzlies do munch whitebark pine seeds during bumper years, they don't depend on the trees to survive. In fact, grizzlies consume no fewer than 266 species of everything from bison and mice to fungi and even one type of soil. 'Grizzly bears are incredibly opportunistic and use their omnivorous traits to shift to other food sources, ' says van Manen. So losing one food—even a high-calorie one—did little to change the population. The move to delist them paused as the federal government addressed the federal court's concerns, including researching the grizzly bear's diet. And bear numbers kept climbing. In 2016, the Fish and Wildlife Service—under President Barack Obama—updated delisting requirements including more expansive habitat protections, stricter conflict prevention, and enhanced monitoring. The agency then proposed a delisting. The following year—under Trump—it delisted the grizzly bear. This time the Crow Indian Tribe sued and—determining in part that delisting grizzlies in the Yellowstone region threatened the recovery of other populations of grizzlies—a federal judge overturned the government's decision to delist the bears and placed them back on the list. In 2022, Wyoming petitioned the Fish and Wildlife Service to delist bears in the Yellowstone region. The service took a few years to analyze the issue, and then this January, days before the Biden administration ended, it issued a response to that petition: Grizzly bears would stay on the endangered species list. All of these years of back and forth reflected the change in how the federal government viewed the grizzly population, largely a result of the bear's own success. The Yellowstone region's bears, they argued, are no longer distinct from bear populations in northern Montana, Idaho, and Washington. And because northern populations haven't met the recovery benchmarks yet (with the exception of a population in and around Glacier National Park), the species as a whole is not yet recovered. But the goalposts for delisting grizzlies keep moving, Thompson told Vox. Grizzly bears would still be managed even after a delisting. States would be responsible for them, and—miracle of miracles—state and federal agencies actually agreed on how to manage grizzlies after ESA protections end. Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana are committed to maintaining between 800 and 950 grizzly bears if the creature ever leaves the endangered species list. And states like Wyoming know how to manage grizzly bears because for years, under the supervision of the feds, they've been doing the gritty, ground-level work. Wyoming's wildlife agency, for example, traps and relocates conflict bears (or kills problem bears if allowed by the Fish and Wildlife Service), knocks on doors to calm nervous landowners, hands out bear spray, and reminds campers not to cook chili in their tents. Despite all that, 'nobody trusts us,' said Thompson, with Wyoming's state wildlife agency. 'There's always going to be a way to find a reason for [grizzlies] not to be delisted.' Delisting Now Might Be the Right Decision. It Would Still Be a Gamble Even though grizzly bears may be thriving in numbers, they're not ready to go it alone, says Matt Cuzzocreo, interim wildlife program manager for the Greater Yellowstone Coalition. The Greater Yellowstone Coalition has spent millions of dollars over the past few decades helping bears and humans more successfully coexist. But whatever comes next needs to build on the past 50 years of working with locals. As bears expand into new territory, they're crossing into areas where residents aren't used to securing garbage and wouldn't know how to respond to 600-pound predators ambling down back roads or into neighborhoods. Simply removing bears from the list and handing management to the states, which is the default after a species delisting, isn't enough, says Chris Servheen—not when so much is still in flux. Servheen, who led the Fish and Wildlife Service's recovery program for 35 years, helped write the previous two recovery plans. He says a delisting could leave them dangerously exposed. 'Politicians are making decisions on the fate of animals like grizzly bears and taking decisions out of the hands of biologists,' Servheen says. Montana and Idaho, Servheen points out, already allow neck-snaring and wolf trapping just outside Yellowstone's borders—traps that also pose a lethal threat to grizzlies. And now, the Trump administration has slashed funding for the very biologists and forest managers tasked with protecting wildlife. A grizzly bear cub forages for food on a hillside near the Lake Butte overlook in Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming. Photograph:Once states take over, many are expected to push for grizzly hunting seasons, and some, like Wyoming, have already set grizzly bear hunting regulations for when the creatures are no longer protected. Layer that on top of existing threats—roadkill, livestock conflicts, illegal kills—and it's easy to imagine a swift population slide. 'It's a perfect storm for grizzlies,' Servheen says. 'We're seeing attacks on public land agencies, the sidelining of science, predator-hostile politicians muscling into wildlife decisions, and relentless pressure from private land development. Walking away from the grizzly now—after all we've invested—just feels like the worst possible timing.'

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