Zombie Love: When the People You Love Can’t Love You Back
I still remember the day my therapist hit me with the truth:
"I see you as an orphan."
Excuse me? An orphan?
I was shocked. Angry. How dare he say that? Both my parents were alive. Sure, I didn’t know my father, but he was somewhere in the world. My mother? Alive and well in New York. I left that session feeling misunderstood, my heart heavy with a sadness I couldn’t explain.
It took me years to get it.
I wasn’t physically parentless. But emotionally? I had no parents.
I had only seen my father once in my life—at a party for my sister. I thought he was just some random man when he said hello. He never introduced himself, and my mother brushed him off as a friend of a friend. Months later, I overheard her bragging to someone about how she had kept him from speaking to me. That’s when I learned the truth: I had met my father, and my mother made sure I never knew.
That was just the kind of home I grew up in. Violence was normal. Pain was expected. My sisters and I endured all kinds of abuse, and "mothering" wasn’t a thing in our house. It was survival. But I didn’t know any different. Even after I left home, I held onto this idea of having a mother.
Like a lot of trauma survivors, I thought maybe it was me. Maybe if I was smarter, more successful, less difficult—maybe then I’d have the kind of mother I longed for.
Then I became a parent myself.
And that’s when it hit me.
Fear, pain, extortion, guilt, shame—those aren’t parenting tools. That’s not love. And once I saw that, I couldn’t unsee it.
The mother I had been holding onto in my mind? The one I kept chasing, trying to earn love from?
She wasn’t real.
She was a zombie.
She looked like a mother, but that version of her was distorted, corrupted. Worse—she was dangerous.
You know how in zombie movies, there’s always that one person who can’t accept that their loved one is gone? They hold on too long, convince themselves there’s still hope—and they get bitten.
That was me.
My therapist had tried to warn me. He saw what I couldn’t. And because I enlisted in the military and left home at 17, I was lucky—time and distance kept me safe. But I have siblings who didn’t make it out, and I’ve seen what staying in that kind of relationship did to them. To their kids.
That’s when I learned the hard truth: zombies aren’t just in the movies.
They can be family members, friends, romantic partners, even co-workers. Zombies are the people we try to turn into something they’ll never be. We ignore the pain they bring because they resemble someone we love—or someone we wish would love us back.
But the truth? They can’t.
And letting go? That’s grief.
How to Tell If Someone Is a Zombie
Not every broken relationship is beyond saving. Some people do change. But some people are stuck in patterns of harm, and no amount of love will make them different.
No matter if it’s a parent, friend, family member, romantic partner, or even a co-worker, ask yourself these questions:
1. Do they take responsibility for their actions?
A parent who is capable of change will acknowledge the harm they caused.
A friend will own up when they hurt you, rather than dismissing your feelings.
A romantic partner won’t gaslight you or shift blame.
A boss won’t ignore your concerns or make you responsible for their mistakes.
💀 A zombie will:
"It wasn’t that bad."
"You’re too sensitive."
"You always bring up the past."
2. Do they respect your boundaries?
A healthy relationship includes respect for your limits. If you ask for space, certain topics to be off-limits, or for them to stop a certain behavior, do they honor that?
💀 A zombie will:
Guilt-trip you for setting boundaries.
Ignore or repeatedly cross them.
Act offended or angry when you try to advocate for yourself.
3. Have they actually changed their behavior?
Real change means consistent actions, not just words.
A partner who was emotionally unavailable will start showing up.
A family member who was critical will change their tone and actions.
💀 A zombie will:
"I promise things will be different!"—but nothing changes.
"You have to give me another chance!"—but the same cycle repeats.
4. Do you feel safe with them?
Not just physically, but emotionally.
Do you feel anxious before seeing them? Drained after talking to them?
💀 A zombie will:
Leave you emotionally exhausted.
Make you question your worth.
5. Is the relationship built on obligation, history, or guilt?
Do you stay because we’ve been friends forever or family is family?
Are you scared to leave because I’ve already put in so much time?
💀 A zombie relationship survives on:
Guilt (You owe me!)
Obligation (Family is everything!)
Fear (You’ll never find someone better!)
History (But we’ve been through so much together!)
When Is Reconciliation Possible?
Some relationships can heal. Some people do change. So when is it worth trying?
Reconciliation is possible when:
They acknowledge past harm.
They show real change through actions, not just words.
They respect your boundaries and rebuild trust.
You feel safe, valued, and respected around them.
But if they refuse to take responsibility—if every interaction leaves you feeling worse—then it’s time to grieve.
But What If You’re Not Ready to Let Go?
I get it. I really do. Letting go isn’t easy. Sometimes, it doesn’t even feel possible.
Maybe you’re still holding on to hope. Maybe you’ve tried to let go but keep getting pulled back in.
And if that’s where you are, I want you to know this: there’s no shame in that.
Grief isn’t linear. It’s okay if you’re not ready yet. But if you can’t let go today, at least start seeing things clearly.
Because the truth is, I have yet to see a movie where a zombie is cured.
And in real life? Some people don’t come back.
And that’s okay.
Your healing doesn’t require their transformation.
Let them go. Or at the very least, stop letting them bite you.
