When the Old Coping Strategies No Longer Work: What Happens Next in Therapy?

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There comes a point in life when the ways we have learned to cope no longer seem to work as they once did. We may find ourselves repeating the same reactions, worrying about things beyond our control, anticipating difficulties before they arise or withdrawing from situations that make us uncomfortable. We might recognise that these responses are making life harder, yet still find ourselves returning to them. This can be confusing. If we know that a particular behaviour is unhelpful, why is it so difficult to change?

The answer may lie in understanding what these behaviours were originally designed to do. Many of the coping strategies we struggle with today began as attempts to manage experiences that once felt overwhelming. They may have helped us navigate uncertainty, protect ourselves emotionally or find some sense of stability when life offered very little. The difficulty is that a strategy developed to protect us can eventually become something that restricts us. And when we begin to let it go, we may discover that we are giving up more than a familiar habit.

Understanding the purpose of our coping strategies

Our ways of coping are often shaped by our earlier experiences, particularly those in which we felt vulnerable, uncertain or unable to influence what was happening around us. Consider a child experiencing their parents’ divorce, repeatedly moving schools, emotional abuse or an unpredictable home environment. They may have little understanding of what is happening and even less control over the circumstances. They cannot necessarily change the situation, influence the adults around them or prevent further disruption. Yet children are remarkably resourceful in finding ways to manage their emotional world. They may become particularly watchful of other people’s moods, try to anticipate problems, avoid drawing attention to themselves or work hard to keep everyone happy.

These responses can develop into coping strategies that offer a degree of psychological safety. If I can predict what might happen, perhaps I won’t be caught off guard. If I keep everyone happy, perhaps there will be less conflict. If I prepare for disappointment, perhaps it won’t hurt so much when it comes. The strategy may not change what is happening, but it can provide a sense of influence over an otherwise uncontrollable situation. As we grow older, these responses can become automatic. We may no longer recognise them as strategies at all. They simply become the way we think, behave and respond to the world.

The strange comfort of familiar patterns

One of the more surprising aspects of changing our behaviour is discovering that we can become attached to patterns that cause us considerable distress. For example, someone who regularly catastrophises may recognise how exhausting it is to imagine everything that could go wrong. They may understand that their thinking is disproportionate to the situation, yet still feel compelled to anticipate the worst.

Why?

Part of the answer may be that catastrophising provides a sense of consistency. It is a familiar mental process, something the person knows how to do. Anticipating difficulties can also create the impression of being prepared, as though thinking through every possible problem might prevent them from being overwhelmed by an unexpected event.

When we begin to question this strategy, we may encounter an unexpected feeling. What would it be like not to anticipate the worst? What would happen if I allowed myself to approach a situation without mentally rehearsing everything that could go wrong?

The prospect may feel strangely unsettling. This is because we are not simply giving up a habit of thinking. We may be relinquishing a familiar way of organising our experience and managing uncertainty. Sometimes we hold on to an old coping strategy not because it makes us feel better, but because we don’t yet know how life will feel without it.

Worry: trying to manage fear

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Worry is another important part of this picture. Although we often use the words fear and worry interchangeably, there is a useful distinction between them. Fear is an emotional response to a perceived threat. It can alert us to danger, help us recognise something that needs attention and prepare us to respond. Worry, however, often takes that fear into the future. We begin imagining what might happen, considering possible outcomes and mentally rehearsing difficulties that may never arise. Worry can become a way of managing fear without having to experience it directly.

I look at worry as fear stripped of courage. Not because worrying is a weakness, but because it can keep us occupied with anticipating what might happen rather than finding the courage to face what we are actually feeling. We may tell ourselves that if we think through every possibility, we will be better prepared. If we anticipate rejection, we won’t be so disappointed. If we consider every potential problem, nothing will take us by surprise.

Yet there is a difference between preparing for something that requires our attention and repeatedly imagining situations over which we have little or no control. Worry can give us something to do when we feel powerless. But it can also keep us trapped in a cycle of anticipation, preventing us from experiencing the present. Sometimes, when we look beneath the worry, we find something much more vulnerable: a fear of abandonment, a fear of failure, a fear of losing control or the possibility of experiencing disappointment and hurt.

The therapeutic work is not simply to stop worrying. It is to understand what the worry is protecting us from and gradually develop the confidence to meet the underlying fear.

When the outside world reinforces our fears

Our personal anxieties do not develop in isolation. We live in an environment where news and social media provide a constant stream of information, much of it presenting potential threats, conflict, uncertainty and crisis. Some of these concerns are very real and deserve our attention. However, the repeated exposure to alarming stories, dramatic headlines and predictions of impending difficulties can leave us feeling that danger is everywhere.

This can be particularly influential when the information connects with fears we already carry. Someone who experienced considerable instability growing up may be especially sensitive to news about economic uncertainty or social disruption. Someone who has experienced abandonment may find stories about relationship breakdown particularly unsettling. A person who has felt unsafe may be more likely to interpret threatening information as confirmation that the world is unpredictable.

The external event may be real, but the intensity of our emotional response can also be influenced by our personal history. This can create a reinforcing cycle. We encounter something alarming, it activates an existing fear, and we seek more information in an attempt to understand or reassure ourselves. Yet the additional information may intensify our anxiety, prompting us to check again.

Being informed about the world is not the same as living in a constant state of apprehension about it. It is worth asking ourselves whether our consumption of information is helping us understand and respond to the world, or whether it is feeding a cycle of worry that leaves us feeling increasingly powerless.

Why letting go can feel harder than holding on

When we begin to recognise an unhelpful coping strategy, it is tempting to assume that understanding it should be enough to change it. But intellectual understanding and emotional change are not the same thing. We may know that constantly seeking reassurance is damaging our relationships, yet still feel compelled to ask whether everything is all right. We may recognise that people pleasing is leaving us feeling resentful, yet struggle to say no. We may understand that catastrophising is increasing our anxiety, yet find ourselves returning to the same thoughts whenever uncertainty arises.

This is because the behaviour is often connected to an underlying emotional need. If reassurance has become a way of managing a fear of abandonment, reducing reassurance seeking may bring that fear closer to the surface. If overworking has become a way of maintaining a sense of worth, slowing down may bring feelings of inadequacy into awareness. If pleasing others has helped us avoid rejection, expressing our own needs may initially feel threatening. In other words, when we interrupt the familiar behaviour, we may encounter the very feelings it was helping us avoid.

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This is an important part of the therapeutic process. It helps explain why changing an established pattern can sometimes feel harder before it feels easier. It does not necessarily mean that we are going backwards or that we are doing something wrong. It may mean that we are beginning to experience something differently, without immediately reaching for the familiar response.

Of course, this does not mean that every uncomfortable feeling should be pushed through or that every coping strategy should be abandoned. Some responses are still protecting us from genuine difficulties.

Understanding the difference between a present-day threat and an older learned response is an important part of the work.

What happens next in therapy?

Therapy offers an opportunity to explore these patterns with curiosity rather than judgement. Instead of simply asking ourselves how to stop a particular behaviour, we can begin by asking what purpose it serves.

When did I first learn to respond this way? What was happening in my life? What did this behaviour help me manage? What am I afraid might happen if I stop doing it?

These questions can help us recognise the connection between earlier experiences and present-day reactions. They can also help us understand that behaviours we may have come to dislike in ourselves often developed for understandable reasons. From there, the work gradually shifts towards developing different ways of responding. This might involve learning to tolerate uncertainty without immediately seeking reassurance, expressing a need without feeling responsible for everyone else’s reaction, or allowing ourselves to rest without believing that we must constantly prove our worth.

It also involves recognising the feelings that arise when we begin to change. Rather than automatically escaping discomfort, we can learn to pause, notice what is happening internally and consider what we actually need. This is not about forcing ourselves to be courageous or dismissing our fears. It is about developing the emotional capacity to experience uncertainty without allowing it to dictate every decision.

Over time, we begin to discover that we can feel anxious without immediately catastrophising, experience disapproval without abandoning our own needs, and face difficult situations without relying on the same protective responses. We start to develop a different kind of security: one that comes less from anticipating and controlling everything around us, and more from trusting our ability to respond to what life brings.

Learning to live differently

Letting go of an old coping strategy is not simply a matter of deciding that it no longer serves us. It involves understanding why we needed it, recognising the fears beneath it and gradually discovering that we have other ways of managing our emotional experiences. We may never reach a point where we feel entirely free from worry, fear or uncertainty. Nor do we need to. These are part of being human. What can change is our relationship with them.

We can learn to distinguish between a fear that is alerting us to something that needs attention and a familiar anxiety that is asking us to repeat an old response. We can become more comfortable with not knowing exactly what will happen, without feeling compelled to prepare for every possible outcome. Perhaps the most significant change is discovering that we no longer need to organise our lives around avoiding the feelings we once found so difficult to manage.

The aim of therapy is not simply to remove the coping strategies we have developed, but to help us understand them, recognise what lies beneath them and develop the confidence to respond to life in new ways. Sometimes, the next step in our personal growth begins when we recognise that the things we once needed to survive are no longer the things we need in order to live well.

How counselling can help

If you recognise some of these patterns in yourself, counselling can provide a space to explore where they may have originated, what they are helping you manage and why changing them can feel difficult. Through this process, you can begin to develop a greater understanding of yourself, build self-trust and find new ways of responding to the challenges of everyday life.

If you would like to explore this further, you can find out more about my online counselling sessions.

Collette O’Mahony November 2026

I offer Free 15-minute introductory sessions. The introductory session is simply a chance for us to meet, talk about what you’re looking for, and see whether you feel comfortable with me and the way I work. There is no expectation or pressure to make any decisions during the session.

When Keeping Others Happy Means Losing Yourself: The Psychology of People Pleasing

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We often think of people pleasing as a difficulty saying no, a desire to be liked, or an unwillingness to disappoint others. While these behaviours may be part of it, there is something deeper happening psychologically. For many people, pleasing others becomes a way of managing their relationships, maintaining emotional security and avoiding the discomfort of another person’s disapproval. It is not necessarily that they want everyone to like them. Sometimes it is simply that they find it difficult to tolerate someone being unhappy with them, particularly when that person is a partner, parent, colleague or someone whose opinion carries weight. Even someone who is not especially close to them can hold considerable influence over how they feel about themselves. To understand this pattern, it is helpful to look beyond the behaviour and consider what happens internally when someone feels they must keep another person happy.

Where does the need to please begin?

For many people, the foundations of people pleasing can be traced back to early experiences of approval, expectations and relationships. A child may discover that certain behaviours bring praise, affection or recognition. They may be described as helpful, considerate, good or responsible because they readily accommodate the needs of others. Gradually, they learn that their efforts produce a positive response, and that continuing to meet expectations helps maintain that approval. This leads to a behaviour pattern that runs automatically until challenged.

For another child, the experience may be rather different. They may encounter criticism, disappointment, disapproval or emotional withdrawal when they express their own needs or disagree with someone. They learn that it is safer to adapt, try harder or avoid doing anything that might upset another person. Although these experiences differ, both can contribute to a similar internal message: My relationships are safer when I get things right for other people.

Over time, this can become more than a learned behaviour. It can become part of how a person understands their role in relationships and, ultimately, their sense of worth.  The individual may become highly attentive to the moods, expectations and reactions of others, often without recognising just how much attention they are giving away from their own experience.

When another person’s reaction becomes your responsibility

Black-and-white photo of a woman and man facing each other beside a large hole in a damaged wall, with rubble covering the floor.

One of the less obvious aspects of people pleasing is the tendency to assume responsibility for how another person responds. Imagine someone raising a reasonable concern with their partner. Perhaps they feel overlooked, would like something to change, or simply want to ask for more consideration. Their partner responds with irritation, defensiveness or disapproval.

Rather than considering whether the response was proportionate or whether their concern deserved to be heard, the person begins to question themselves. Perhaps they should not have brought it up. Perhaps they made too much of it. Perhaps they could have chosen their words more carefully. Maybe they were being unreasonable. Notice what has happened here. The original concern has almost disappeared. Attention has shifted away from what prompted the conversation and towards the other person’s reaction. The individual has taken responsibility for the discomfort created by the response, even though they were not necessarily responsible for creating it.

This can become a particularly powerful pattern because it teaches the person to anticipate disapproval before they have even expressed themselves. They begin to modify their language, soften their requests, provide lengthy explanations or introduce difficult conversations with apologies. Sometimes they decide that raising the issue is simply not worth the emotional cost. In doing so, they may gradually lose confidence in their right to express an opinion, have a need or question something that does not feel right.

The emotional work of keeping others happy

People pleasing can involve a considerable amount of internal emotional work. The person may spend time anticipating how someone will react, considering what they should say and rehearsing conversations in their mind. They might monitor changes in tone, facial expressions or body language, looking for signs that something has gone wrong.

If another person seems unhappy, they may immediately feel compelled to repair the situation. If someone is disappointed, they may experience guilt, even when they have done nothing wrong. This can create a state of heightened emotional vigilance in which the individual’s attention is continually directed towards the emotional needs and responses of others. There is often an underlying belief that if they can say the right thing, behave appropriately or avoid creating difficulty, they can prevent an uncomfortable reaction.

However, other people’s emotions are not entirely within our control. Someone may be disappointed by a perfectly reasonable boundary. They may dislike a decision that has nothing to do with them, or respond defensively to a question that simply needs answering. The people pleaser may struggle to accept this because they have become accustomed to viewing another person’s discomfort as something they need to resolve. Consequently, they can find themselves doing more emotional work than the relationship itself requires.

The difference between what you feel and what you show

There is another consequence that can develop over time: a growing divide between the individual’s inner experience and their outward behaviour. They may feel frustrated but appear agreeable. They may feel hurt but insist that everything is fine. They may disagree with a decision but go along with it to avoid creating tension.

Their external behaviour communicates acceptance, while their internal experience tells a different story. This disconnect can be difficult to recognise because the person may have become so accustomed to accommodating others that they no longer immediately identify their own discomfort. Sometimes it emerges later as resentment, anxiety, exhaustion or a feeling of being taken for granted. They may wonder why they feel unhappy in relationships when, on the surface, they appear to be doing everything they can to maintain them.

This is where people pleasing can become closely connected to relationship stress. The person is not only responding to what is happening between themselves and another individual; they are also managing an internal conflict between what they genuinely feel and what they believe they should express. The more frequently they suppress their own experience, the harder it can become to distinguish between what they actually want and what they have learned to provide.

When being considerate becomes self-abandonment

There is, of course, nothing unhealthy about being considerate. Relationships require compromise, understanding and a willingness to recognise that other people have needs and feelings of their own. The difficulty arises when consideration becomes one-sided, or when maintaining another person’s approval consistently takes priority over acknowledging one’s own experience.

Black-and-white photo of two people reaching across a cracked wall and holding hands.

A healthy relationship allows room for difference. It allows someone to disagree without fearing that the relationship will be threatened. It makes space for reasonable requests, uncomfortable conversations and the possibility that two people may not always see things in the same way. People pleasing, by contrast, can make disagreement feel like a personal failure.

The individual may believe that being a good partner, friend, family member or colleague means being accommodating, even when this requires them to disregard something important to themselves. But there is a difference between choosing to compromise and feeling that you have no permission to do otherwise. One comes from an awareness of both people’s needs. The other can come from a fear of what might happen if you acknowledge your own.

Beginning to reconnect with yourself

Changing this pattern does not necessarily begin with learning to say no. For someone who has spent much of their life managing other people’s responses, that can feel like an enormous step. A more useful starting point may be to become curious about what happens internally when another person expresses disapproval or disappointment.

What do you immediately assume about yourself? Do you automatically conclude that you have done something wrong? Do you feel an urge to explain, apologise or withdraw your concern? Are you more interested in restoring the other person’s approval than understanding why you raised the issue in the first place?

These observations can help distinguish between genuine responsibility and responsibility that has been unnecessarily assumed. It can also be helpful to pause before changing your position or withdrawing a request. Consider whether you are doing so because you have genuinely reconsidered your perspective, or because you are uncomfortable with the other person’s reaction.

Perhaps the most important shift is recognising that another person’s response belongs to them. You can be respectful in how you communicate, take responsibility for your own behaviour and remain open to another perspective without accepting responsibility for managing someone else’s emotions. You are allowed to express a need without apologising for having one. You are allowed to disagree without assuming you have damaged a relationship. And you are allowed to experience someone else’s disappointment without immediately interpreting it as evidence that you have done something wrong.

Counselling can help you recognise where people-pleasing patterns originated, understand the beliefs and fears that keep them in place, and begin to reconnect with your own needs, feelings and boundaries. Through this process, you can develop a greater sense of self-worth and learn to maintain relationships without losing yourself in the process. The aim is not to become less considerate of others, but to become equally considerate of yourself.

When we begin to recognise the difference between what we feel and what we have learned to show, we create an opportunity to bring our inner and outer lives back into alignment. Perhaps the real question is not whether we are pleasing other people, but what we are having to silence within ourselves in order to do so.

Collette O’Mahony November 2026

For online counselling contact me at : info@colletteomahony.com

I offer a Free 15 minute introduction. This is a chance for us to meet, talk about what you’re looking for, and see whether you feel comfortable with me and the way I work. There is no expectation or pressure to make any decisions during the session.

When Relationships Create Stress: The Conflict Between Who We Are and Who We’ve Learned to Be

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When a relationship causes us stress, our attention often turns towards the other person. We try to understand their behaviour, work out what they are thinking, and find an explanation for why things have become difficult. We may seek reassurance, replay conversations in our minds or wonder what we could do differently to make the relationship feel secure again. It is understandable that we do this. Relationships matter to us, and when a connection feels uncertain, we naturally want to restore it. But in our efforts to understand the other person, we can overlook something equally important: our own inner experience. What am I feeling in this relationship? What do I need? What am I afraid to say or acknowledge? And how much of the way I am living reflects who I really want to be, rather than who I have learned to be in order to feel accepted, loved or safe?

These questions invite us to shift our attention away from what someone else is doing and towards what is happening within ourselves. Sometimes, this is where a different kind of understanding begins.

Looking Outside Ourselves for Answers

When we experience difficulties in a relationship, it is natural to look for an explanation in the other person’s behaviour. Perhaps they have become distant, are less attentive than they once were, or seem unable to understand what we need. We may spend considerable time trying to interpret their actions, hoping that if we can understand them, we will know what to do next.

Sometimes, the other person’s behaviour is the source of our distress. Relationships can involve genuine incompatibility, unmet needs, emotional neglect or harmful behaviour, and these experiences should not be dismissed. However, there are occasions when our attention becomes so focused on the other person that we lose sight of ourselves. We become preoccupied with whether they love us, whether they will change or whether we are asking too much, while giving less attention to what we are experiencing and what we want from the relationship.

We may become skilled at recognising another person’s moods and anticipating their needs, yet struggle to identify our own. We might know what makes our partner unhappy but find it difficult to express what makes us unhappy. In this way, the relationship can become something we continually try to manage from the outside, rather than an experience we learn to understand from within.

What Is Our Inner Experience Telling Us?

Stress and anxiety can show up in relationships in many ways. We might feel restless, irritable, insecure or emotionally exhausted. Perhaps we find ourselves repeatedly seeking reassurance, avoiding difficult conversations or feeling resentful about things we struggle to acknowledge. It is tempting to regard these feelings as problems that need to be eliminated. We might tell ourselves to stop worrying, become less sensitive or accept things as they are. Alternatively, we may attribute our feelings entirely to our partner, believing that we will feel better once they change.

But our emotional experience deserves closer attention. Anxiety, for example, may reflect a fear of rejection rooted in earlier relationships. It may arise because we have learned to associate closeness with uncertainty or because we are accustomed to anticipating disappointment. Equally, it may be a response to inconsistency, criticism or a genuine lack of emotional safety in our present relationship. The feeling itself does not tell us which explanation is correct. Anxiety is not proof that something is wrong, just as the absence of anxiety does not guarantee that everything is right. What matters is our willingness to become curious about it.

Rather than immediately asking how we can stop feeling anxious, we might ask what the anxiety is responding to. What are we afraid of? What do we need? Is there something happening in the relationship that requires our attention, or are we responding to an expectation shaped by earlier experiences? By making space for these questions, we begin to understand ourselves rather than simply reacting to our discomfort.

The Person We Learned to Be

Our responses to relationships do not develop in isolation. From an early age, we learn how to maintain connection with the people who matter to us. We discover, sometimes without consciously realising it, which behaviours bring approval and which risk disapproval, conflict or rejection. Perhaps we learned to be agreeable, responsible or independent. We might have become the person who keeps everyone happy, takes care of others or never asks for too much. Maybe we learned that expressing anger was unacceptable, that needing help was a weakness, or that being successful was a reliable way to gain recognition.

These adaptations often develop for understandable reasons. They may have helped us navigate our early environment and maintain a sense of belonging. They are not evidence that something is wrong with us. The difficulty arises when we continue to live according to these learned expectations without questioning whether they still serve us.

We may become the accommodating partner who suppresses their own needs to avoid conflict. We may take responsibility for another person’s feelings because we fear what will happen if we stop. We might long for greater independence but feel guilty whenever we make a choice that disappoints someone else. Over time, the role we have learned to occupy can become confused with our identity. We no longer recognise that we are adapting; we simply believe that this is who we are. Yet beneath these familiar patterns, there may be needs, feelings and aspirations that have received little attention.

When Our Inner and Outer Worlds Become Divided

Consider what happens when our inner experience and our outward behaviour repeatedly contradict one another. We feel hurt but say nothing. We want closeness but conceal our vulnerability. We need space but agree to everything that is asked of us. We value honesty but avoid speaking the truth because we fear the consequences.

Outwardly, we may appear to be managing well. We maintain the relationship, fulfil our responsibilities and meet other people’s expectations. Inwardly, however, we may be accumulating resentment, anxiety or a sense of disconnection. This is the conflict between the life we want to live and the adapted version of ourselves we believe we need to maintain.

The two are not always entirely opposed. We may genuinely value caring for others, maintaining relationships and fulfilling our responsibilities. The question is whether these choices reflect our freely held values or whether we feel compelled to make them because we are afraid of what might happen if we do otherwise. When we repeatedly override our own experience, the effort required to maintain the outward appearance of things being fine can become exhausting. We might begin to feel trapped, although we cannot quite explain why. We may blame the relationship for our unhappiness without recognising the part played by our own unspoken needs, fears or habitual responses. Alternatively, we may blame ourselves for being unhappy in a relationship that genuinely does not meet our needs.

Both possibilities deserve consideration. The aim is not to assume that our distress is entirely internal or entirely caused by someone else. It is to understand how our inner experience and our external circumstances interact.

Beginning to Listen to Ourselves

Developing greater self-awareness does not mean that we must question every feeling or make immediate changes to our lives. Nor does it mean that we should disregard the needs and feelings of the people we love. It means allowing ourselves to become part of the conversation.

When relationship difficulties arise, we can pause and consider not only what the other person is doing, but also what is happening within us. We can begin to distinguish between what we know, what we fear and what we have come to expect. We must learn to look more honestly at our experience and recognise where we have choices. Sometimes, this awareness will help us communicate more openly and build a healthier relationship. At other times, it may reveal a deeper incompatibility or a pattern that cannot be resolved by our efforts alone. Greater self-awareness does not guarantee that a relationship will survive, but it can help us make decisions with a clearer understanding of ourselves and our circumstances.

For some of us, this process may also involve grieving the expectations we have carried, recognising the fears that have shaped our behaviour and learning that we can express our needs without automatically regarding them as unreasonable. These changes take time. We do not simply abandon lifelong adaptations because we have recognised them. But we can begin to notice when they are operating and gradually create room for a different response.

A Different Kind of Understanding

Perhaps the most important question we can ask when a relationship causes us distress is not simply, “What do I need to do to make this work?” but also, “What is happening within me, and am I living in a way that allows me to remain connected to myself?”

We cannot control another person’s feelings, choices or behaviour. We cannot guarantee that every relationship will meet our needs or that being more honest will always produce the response we hope for. What we can do is become more attentive to our own experience, more willing to acknowledge what matters to us, and more aware of the patterns that influence the choices we make. Understanding a relationship involves more than understanding the other person. It also involves understanding the person we become when we are in it. When we begin to recognise the difference between who we are and who we have learned to be, we create an opportunity to make choices that are more consistent with our needs, values and aspirations. Perhaps this is where a more meaningful sense of connection begins: not in becoming the person we believe someone else needs us to be, but in learning to remain present to ourselves while building a relationship with another.

October 2026

How counselling can help

In counselling, we can explore these patterns without dismissing the meaning a relationship holds for you. My approach draws on talking therapy, attachment, CBT and psychodynamic perspectives to help you understand the beliefs, emotional responses and relationship patterns that may be keeping you stuck. The aim is not to tell you what your relationship means or what decision you should make, but to create enough space to recognise what you are experiencing, reconnect with your own perspective and make choices from a stronger sense of self.

Get in touch via my counselling page or email me at info@colletteomahony.com

I offer a Free introduction of 15 minutes.

Soul Connection or Trauma Bond? Understanding Intense Relationships

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Some relationships are difficult to explain. The attraction can feel unusually powerful, the connection profound, and the emotional pull difficult to understand. Even when a relationship becomes painful, confusing or destructive, letting go may feel almost impossible. When we find ourselves in this kind of psychological darkness, we naturally look for an explanation. We want to understand why this person affects us so deeply, why we keep returning, and why the relationship can feel so difficult to leave.

For some people, the explanation may be found in the language of soul connection, karma or destiny. For others, it may be love, loyalty or the belief that the relationship has a deeper purpose. These ideas can provide meaning when an experience feels confusing or painful. But there is another question worth asking: could some of what feels like an extraordinary connection also be produced by the relationship pattern itself? This is where psychology can offer another lens through which to understand intense relationships.

What do we mean by a soul connection?

The word soul can mean different things to different people. For many, it describes their deepest inner experience: the part of themselves they experience as most authentic, intuitive, private or profoundly connected to life and to other people.  Someone may therefore describe a relationship as a soul connection because it reaches somewhere deep within them. The experience may feel unlike anything they have known before. We don’t necessarily have to decide whether that experience is spiritual, psychological or both. What matters is recognising that a profound inner experience is real as an experience. But there is an important distinction: A profound inner experience does not necessarily mean that the relationship producing it is right for us. Nor does feeling deeply connected to someone necessarily mean that they are the one.

We can confuse the depth of our experience with the health of the relationship. A relationship can feel extraordinary and still be unhealthy. It can be deeply meaningful and still not be sustainable.

When intensity becomes evidence

Imagine a relationship in which there is extraordinary attraction and closeness, followed by conflict, withdrawal or uncertainty. Separation creates anxiety, while reconnection brings enormous relief. The relationship may move between intense intimacy and painful disconnection. Because the feelings are so powerful, we may conclude that the relationship itself must therefore be extraordinary.

But what if the intensity is partly being produced by the pattern? This is one of the questions raised by the psychological concept of trauma bonding.

A trauma bond is not simply an intense relationship, nor does every difficult relationship involve one. Trauma bonding can develop in relationships characterised by cycles of harm and intermittent reward, particularly where there is a significant imbalance of power or control.

The cycle may look something like this: connection › rupture › anxiety › uncertainty › reconciliation › relief › renewed connection.

The periods of affection or closeness can become especially powerful because they interrupt the distress. We may find ourselves becoming attached not only to the person, but to the relief we experience when the relationship feels secure again. This can create a powerful emotional loop. And this is where the question becomes important: Could the intensity itself be partly produced by the relationship pattern?

It doesn’t invalidate the feelings. It gives us another way of understanding them.

When we are searching for meaning

When we are psychologically in the dark, we naturally reach for explanations. A soul connection can provide one. So can the idea of a soul connection, karma or destiny. Perhaps this person was meant to enter our life. Perhaps there is something we are supposed to learn from the relationship. Perhaps the difficulty has a deeper purpose. These beliefs are meaningful to the person holding them. The psychological question isn’t to remove that meaning but to explore the underlying issue.

Has the meaning we attach to a connection begun to prevent us from seeing what is happening in front of us?

A relationship can have meaning without being healthy. A relationship can teach us something without requiring us to remain in it. A relationship can be deeply significant without being destined to continue. Sometimes we can become so focused on what a relationship is meant to represent that we lose sight of what it is actually doing to us.

When meaning becomes obligation

This can be particularly important when we believe that a difficult relationship is something we are supposed to work through. We might unconsciously interpret repeated difficulties as evidence that there is still a lesson to learn. Perhaps the relationship is challenging us for a reason. Perhaps we haven’t yet understood what we came here to learn. Perhaps leaving would mean abandoning something that was meant to be completed. But there is another possibility.

Perhaps the difficulty itself is information.

Instead of asking only what the relationship is trying to teach us, we can ask what the relationship is showing us. How do I feel within this relationship? What happens to my sense of self? Am I becoming more myself or less myself? Am I able to express my needs and boundaries? Am I staying because I freely choose to be here, or because leaving feels impossible?

These questions don’t dismiss the meaning we have given to the relationship. They introduce something equally important: agency.

When relationships become behaviour patterns

Intense relationships can also develop recurring patterns in which both people become caught in familiar roles. Karpman’s Drama Triangle describes three common positions: Persecutor, Victim and Rescuer. These are not fixed identities, and people can move between them, sometimes within the same relationship.

The Persecutor may justify controlling, critical or harmful behaviour as a way of helping the other person grow. Difficult behaviour can become reframed as teaching, strengthening or correcting.

The Victim may begin to see suffering as something inevitable, deserved or destined. The relationship becomes something to endure or something from which a lesson must eventually be learned.

The Rescuer may feel responsible for saving, healing or protecting the other person. They may understand the other person’s wounds so deeply that they begin to excuse behaviour that is hurting them.

The desire to rescue can be particularly complicated because compassion may be genuine. Yet continually taking responsibility for another person’s wellbeing can subtly undermine both people’s agency. The person being rescued may come to be seen as incapable of managing without help, while the rescuer may derive an unconscious sense of worth from being needed.

These patterns can keep a difficult relationship going even when both people are unhappy. Understanding the pattern does not mean blaming either person. It gives us another small opening through which to see what is happening.

Understanding isn’t the same as excusing

We can understand someone’s childhood, attachment style, trauma, insecurity or emotional wounds. We can recognise why they behave as they do. But understanding does not require us to accept the impact of their behaviour. Likewise, recognising that someone has been hurt does not make us responsible for healing them. Compassion allows another person to have responsibility for their own growth. Rescuing can take that responsibility away from them while gradually asking us to carry more than is ours to carry. Sometimes what looks like devotion is actually self-abandonment. Sometimes what looks like loyalty is fear. And sometimes what looks like an unbreakable connection is a relationship pattern that has become very difficult to step outside.

How counselling can help

In counselling, we can explore these patterns without dismissing the meaning a relationship holds for you. My approach draws on talking therapy, attachment, CBT and psychodynamic perspectives to help you understand the beliefs, emotional responses and relationship patterns that may be keeping you stuck. The aim is not to tell you what your relationship means or what decision you should make, but to create enough space to recognise what you are experiencing, reconnect with your own perspective and make choices from a stronger sense of self.

Finding a pinprick of light

Perhaps we don’t always need to decide whether a connection is spiritual or psychological. We can honour the depth of what we have experienced while also examining the relationship honestly. A connection can be profound and still be unhealthy. It can change us without being meant to last. It can teach us something without being our destiny. The question may therefore be less about whether someone is our soul connection and more about what the connection is doing to us.

If we put aside, just for a moment, what the relationship is supposed to mean, what can we see about what is actually happening?

This is where psychological awareness can offer a small pinprick of light in the darkness. Not necessarily an answer, and not someone else telling us what we should do, but enough light to see that we have choices. We can begin to distinguish intensity from intimacy, meaning from obligation, understanding from excusing, and connection from compatibility.

And perhaps the deepest question is not Why was I drawn to this person?

but: What am I free to choose now?

The above article reminds me of a poem I wrote a few years ago:

Poems like prayers slip through the cracks that hide my shadows;

Had I not learned to pray on the cold, hard tiles of mercy,

you would find me on the other side of darkness,

desperately trying to punch stars into the sky.

Collette O’ Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

Why Do We Sometimes Know What We Want — But Still Can’t Choose It?

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There are times in life when we seem to know exactly what we want, yet somehow cannot bring ourselves to choose it. We may know that a relationship is no longer right for us, yet find reasons to stay. We may want to change direction in our career, but continually postpone taking the necessary steps. We may long for greater independence, yet become anxious when faced with making decisions alone. We may want to be more confident, but repeatedly seek reassurance from others. Sometimes we describe these patterns as self-sabotage.

But what if the behaviour that appears to be working against us is actually trying to protect us from something? This doesn’t mean that self-sabotaging behaviour is helpful, or that we are not responsible for our choices. Rather, understanding what lies beneath the behaviour can help us move from self-criticism towards greater self-awareness and ultimately, greater choice.

Wanting Something and Feeling Safe Enough to Choose It

We tend to think of desire as straightforward: I want this; therefore, I should be able to choose it. Psychologically, it is rarely that simple. We can genuinely want something while another part of us fears what achieving it might mean. We may want intimacy but fear vulnerability. We may want success but fear the expectations that could come with it. We may want independence but fear being alone. We may want change but feel safer with what is familiar. This creates an internal conflict between two legitimate needs. One part of us says: This is what I want. Another may quietly respond: But what happens if you get it?

That second question can be surprisingly powerful. Sometimes we are not simply afraid of failure. We may be afraid of success, visibility, responsibility, uncertainty or the possibility that getting what we want will change how we see ourselves, or how others see us.

When Self-Sabotage Serves a Purpose

The term self-sabotage can make it sound as though we are deliberately working against ourselves. In reality, many patterns that appear self-defeating have a psychological function. Consider someone who repeatedly postpones applying for a job they genuinely want. On the surface, they are preventing themselves from moving forward. But underneath the procrastination may be a fear of rejection or failure. Or someone may remain in an unhappy relationship because leaving feels impossible. The conscious desire may be to leave, but staying also provides familiarity, companionship and protection from the uncertainty of starting again.

This is where the psychological concept of secondary gain can be useful. The primary consequence of a behaviour may be unwanted, while the behaviour simultaneously provides an unintended benefit. The person who procrastinates avoids moving forward, but also avoids the possibility of being judged. The person who continually seeks reassurance never fully trusts their own judgement, but they temporarily escape the discomfort of uncertainty. The person who stays in an unsatisfying situation remains unhappy, but avoids the fear of what might happen if they leave. The behaviour has a cost, but it also provides something. Often that something is relief. And relief is powerful.

The Short-Term Solution Can Become the Long-Term Problem

Many self-defeating patterns make sense when we look at what they provide in the moment. Avoiding a difficult conversation can reduce anxiety. Putting off a decision can provide temporary certainty because nothing has changed yet. Seeking reassurance can quiet self-doubt. Staying with what is familiar can protect us from the uncertainty of change. The difficulty is that what provides short-term relief can create long-term problems. We may feel calmer today but less confident tomorrow. We may avoid rejection but also avoid intimacy. We may protect ourselves from failure but also prevent ourselves from developing. We may preserve belonging by silencing ourselves, while gradually losing touch with who we are. The pattern continues because, at some level, it works. It solves an immediate emotional problem, even though it creates another one further down the road.

When Other People’s Approval Becomes More Important Than Our Own Experience

Another reason we can struggle to choose what we want is that we may have learned to look outside ourselves for confirmation. We might know what we feel, but immediately wonder will other’s think of us. We may be fearful of upsetting someone, or their disapproval.

Over time, our own internal experience can become less authoritative. This is sometimes described as an external locus of evaluation — judging ourselves and our choices primarily through the responses of other people. The difficulty is that we can become very good at understanding what everyone else needs while becoming uncertain about what we need ourselves.

Then even a clear decision can feel wrong simply because it might disappoint someone. Learning to trust our own experience does not mean ignoring other people. It means allowing our own thoughts, feelings and values to have a place in the decision.

Sometimes the Real Fear Is Who We Will Become

There is another layer to this. Change does not only alter our circumstances. It can challenge our identity. If I stop being the person who keeps everyone happy, who am I? If I stop rescuing others, what will my relationships look like? If I leave this relationship, who will I be on my own? If I stop measuring my worth through achievement, how will I know that I am enough?

Sometimes the familiar pattern is not simply familiar behaviour. It has become part of our sense of who we are. Changing it can therefore feel strangely unsettling, even when we consciously want the change.

Moving From Self-Sabotage to Self-Understanding

Recognising these patterns does not mean giving ourselves an excuse. Understanding why we behave in a particular way does not remove responsibility for what we do. Instead, it gives us an opportunity to respond differently. This begins with becoming curious about the conflict underneath the behaviour. We might start by considering what we say we want and then notice what happens inside us when we imagine actually having it. What are we afraid might change? What feeling might we be trying to avoid? What does the behaviour give us in the short term, and what is it costing us in the longer term? We might also notice whose approval we are seeking and whether we have gradually learned to give other people’s opinions more authority than our own experience. Beneath all of this is perhaps the most important question: what might I choose if I trusted myself?

These questions can reveal that what we have called self-sabotage may actually be an old form of self-protection, one that may once have been necessary, but is no longer serving us in the same way.

Choosing From the Present Rather Than the Past

Ultimately, psychological growth is not about eliminating every fear before we act. There may always be uncertainty. There may always be competing needs. We may never feel completely ready to make an important choice. But self-awareness gives us something valuable: the ability to pause between an old pattern and a new response.

We can recognise the part of us that wants safety without allowing it to make every decision. Sometimes the way forward is not to fight the part of ourselves that seems to be holding us back, but to understand what it has been trying to protect. Because when we understand the conflict beneath our behaviour, we gain something that self-criticism cannot provide: choice.

If you recognise recurring patterns in your relationships and would like to understand them more deeply, I offer online psychotherapeutic counselling for relationship difficulties, attachment patterns and emotional wellbeing.

Collette O’ Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.