It's not that I want to have a thousand partners; I do want to be able to have intimacy with someone and build a beautiful relationship without the fear of intimacy and, of course, without the triggers making me relapse. I already know where that path leads. He is a valuable person, and yes, it's true that I am afraid of losing him.

I can feel how much you care about this person, and how carefully you're trying to hold both things at once—the genuine desire to be close to him, and the very real fear that intimacy itself might pull you back into old patterns. That's not a small thing you're carrying. It sounds like you've already walked a difficult path before, and you know with your whole body where that leads. So you're not just afraid of losing him—you're also afraid of losing yourself, or the ground you've found. That fear makes sense. It's protective, in its way. Here's something that might be worth sitting with, though: the fear of relapsing and the desire for intimacy don't have to be enemies. Sometimes what looks like a choice between "protect myself by staying distant" and "risk everything by getting close" is actually a false choice. Real intimacy isn't the same as the patterns that hurt you before. In fact, genuine closeness—where you can be honest about your fears, where you don't have to perform or hide—might be one of the steadiest ground you could find. The triggers will probably still come. That's not a failure; that's just how healing works. But if he's someone you can tell, "I'm feeling scared right now, and here's why," then you're not facing it alone. And you're not relapsing—you're being human with another human. If it feels right, you might try naming one small fear with him—not all of them at once, but something true. Not to test him, but to let him actually know you. You might be surprised by what happens when you're not carrying the weight of your own silence. What do you think would happen if you told him one true thing about what you're afraid of?