Watching the Crave limited series Heated Rivalry, based on the novel by Rachel Reid, stayed with me far more than I expected.
On the surface, it is a story of rivalry, attraction, and undeniable chemistry. Underneath, it offers a psychologically rich exploration of desire shaped by shame, attachment wounds, and the fear of being fully known.
Watching it through the lens of a relational, trauma-informed psychotherapeutic counsellor, what stood out most was not the intensity of the connection, but the emotional cost of wanting something that feels unsafe to name.
Desire is rarely just desire
In Heated Rivalry, desire is not portrayed as simple or carefree. It is charged, conflicted, and deeply human.
This is not only sexual desire, but the longing to be chosen, to matter, and to be wanted without conditions.
For many people, particularly those who grew up navigating emotional unpredictability or silence around feelings and identity, desire can feel dangerous. Wanting activates fear. Fear of exposure. Fear of rejection. Fear of shame.
In therapy, this often sounds like:
If I let myself want this, I’ll lose control
If I’m honest, I’ll be rejected
If I’m fully seen, I’ll be too much
The series captures this internal tension with striking emotional accuracy.
Shame lives quietly and thrives in secrecy
Brené Brown describes shame as:
“The intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging.”
What makes shame so powerful is how subtly it operates.
In Heated Rivalry, shame is not always obvious. It is layered and complex. It hides behind humour, bravado, rivalry, and emotional distance. This is particularly evident in the portrayal of Ilya in the Crave limited series.
The performance captures something deeply familiar clinically. Shame often does not look like collapse. More often, it looks like confidence, control, charm, and emotional containment. Armour that works well, until intimacy asks for more.
From a trauma informed perspective, this makes sense. Shame develops as protection. It keeps us acceptable, contained, and safe from rejection. But the cost is disconnection, from others and from our own longing.
Attachment wounds wear many disguises
Relational trauma does not always come from overt harm. Sometimes it comes from what was missing.
Consistent attunement
Emotional safety
Permission to need
In Heated Rivalry, rivalry often feels safer than vulnerability. Competition has structure. Desire feels destabilising.
From an attachment lens, this is not avoidance for its own sake. It is adaptation. When closeness has felt unreliable or risky, people learn to stay connected without fully arriving.
What feels emotionally honest is that love does not instantly undo these patterns. Trust builds slowly. Shame does not disappear simply because affection exists.
Love is not the absence of fear
One of the quiet strengths of this series is that love is not portrayed as a cure.
Instead, love becomes a place where fear can be named, tolerated, and gradually softened.
Relational healing happens through:
repeated experiences of being met rather than dismissed
repair after rupture
being allowed to be imperfect and still chosen
This mirrors therapeutic reality. Protective strategies are not removed by force. They loosen when safety is experienced over time.
Why stories like this matter
Stories shape how we understand ourselves. For those navigating shame around desire, identity, or attachment, seeing complexity held with tenderness can be quietly reparative.
Heated Rivalry does not rush healing. It honours the truth that when shame has been part of survival, intimacy takes time.
If this series stirred recognition, discomfort, longing, or grief, that response matters. These reactions often point toward parts of ourselves that learned to stay hidden to survive.
In therapy, we make space for those parts gently. Nothing is forced. Nothing is shamed.
And slowly, desire no longer has to hide.
