Trusting Yourself in New Relationships: Navigating Intuition, Wisdom, and Past Trauma

I recently decided to explore the world of dating apps after being single for about a

year — and honestly, it took some courage. The modern dating landscape felt unfamiliar, and there’s something deeply vulnerable about saying to the world, “Hi, I’m looking for love.”

We get so many mixed messages about love. When I was younger, I thought something was wrong with me for always wanting a boyfriend — for feeling like a loser when I went to a school dance alone, or for being “off-track” because I wasn’t married by 32. Now the pressure feels different: to be the strong, independent woman who’s totally fine on her own, who can love herself and meet all her own needs.

I shouldn’t depend on a man… but I want one. Damn — am I doing this right?

I quickly learned that even though I met someone I genuinely liked, dating apps just aren’t for me. Every time I got a message saying, “There are no matches who meet your criteria. Expand your preferences to meet more people,” my heart sank.

Excuse me? I’m supposed to lower my standards? That didn’t sit right at all. I don’t need dozens of matches — I just need one good one. And watering down my desires isn’t going to get me there.

Then there’s the way these apps commodify people and prey on loneliness. Swiping starts to feel like shopping — and when the likes slow down, the apps whisper, “Pay more to boost your profile.” It’s like turning your search for love into a marketing campaign.

And don’t even get me started on the Super Like. Why would anyone feel good about a regular like when a “super” one exists? And of course, you only get one a week — unless you buy more. It’s love, packaged and sold under late-stage capitalism. And honestly? It’s heartbreaking.

Anyway, the commodification of love isn’t really the point of this post. What I want to explore is how we learn to trust — both ourselves and someone else — especially when that “someone else” is basically a stranger from the internet.

If you’re single in your 40s or 50s, chances are you’ve been through some relational trauma. Most of the single people I coach — myself included — are determined not to repeat the same mistakes. But that determination can morph into hyper-vigilance. We hope for the best while bracing for the worst.

I found myself running everything my date said through an internal filter: Is this toxic? Narcissistic? Entitled? I was so busy analyzing that I wasn’t really present. I couldn’t tell if I was being wise… or just paranoid.

But then something softer came through — that quiet, steady voice of intuition. It reminded me: You are wise. You have your own back. You’ve made more good choices than bad ones. And with that, I let myself exhale. I allowed a little lightness, a little fun, back into the experience.

After that date, I noticed something unexpected — grief. Grief for past relationships that didn’t work out. Grief for how transactional love and dating have become. Grief for being single in my 50s and having to navigate this whole process all over again.

But what stayed with me most wasn’t the sadness — it was the questioning. I kept wondering: was that inner voice speaking from wisdom and intuition… or from old wounds? What if I’ve become so afraid of getting hurt that I can’t let in something good? And on the flip side — what if I follow the good feelings and get fooled again?

The truth is, I realized I can’t know. Not right away. Only time can show me which voice is which.

In the meantime, each of us has to find our own unique balance when it comes to letting love in.

For me, allowing love to flow — and savoring those first sparks of attraction — helps me stay hopeful. But I also try to pace myself, to let things unfold more slowly and intentionally. (I talk more about this in my post, “What Does ‘Take It Slow’ Mean in a New Relationship?”)

Along the way, I’ve come up with two questions that serve as touchstones:

1. What can I allow, give, or experience right now that I won’t regret later if things don’t work out?

2. What can I hold back or protect in myself so I still feel safe — without shutting down completely?

These questions help me stay open without losing myself. I hope they help you, too, wherever you are in your own love story. ❤️