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.

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.

When Fear Looks Like Jealousy: Understanding Trust, Insecurity and Attachment

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Jealousy can be one of the most difficult emotions to navigate in an intimate relationship. It can appear as questioning, checking, comparing, withdrawing, accusing or needing constant reassurance. Sometimes it follows a genuine breach of trust, such as infidelity. At other times, it seems to appear without any obvious cause.

But jealousy is rarely just about the person or situation in front of us. Often, it is connected to something deeper: our experience of trust, attachment, self-esteem and what we have learned to expect from relationships. The challenge is knowing when jealousy is telling us something important about the relationship, and when fear is filling in the gaps.

When the past enters the present

Imagine someone has discovered that a previous partner was unfaithful. Even after leaving that relationship, their nervous system may remain alert to the possibility of betrayal. A partner taking longer to reply, becoming more private with their phone or appearing particularly interested in someone else may activate an immediate sense that something is wrong. This can lead to hypervigilance.

The person begins looking for signs of danger, often without consciously choosing to do so. They may check messages, ask repeated questions or seek reassurance. For a short while, reassurance brings relief. But because the underlying fear has not been resolved, the vigilance returns.

A cycle can develop: Past betrayal → heightened vigilance → ambiguous behaviour → threat interpretation → anxiety → checking or questioning → temporary reassurance → renewed vigilance

The person may believe they are simply being careful. Underneath the behaviour, however, there may be a deeper fear that they do not want to be hurt like that again.

Attachment and the fear of being left

Our early experiences of relationships can also influence how we respond to uncertainty in adult relationships. Someone with an anxious attachment pattern may be particularly sensitive to changes in closeness. A delayed message, a partner becoming distracted or a perceived change in affection can trigger questions such as:

Are they losing interest? Have I done something wrong? Is there someone else?

The intensity of the response may seem disproportionate to the immediate situation because the present moment has activated something older. At the heart of the reaction may not actually be jealousy. It may be a fear of rejection, abandonment or not being enough. This is where jealousy can become an expression of insecurity.

When low self-esteem becomes an accusation

Low self-esteem can be particularly complicated within relationships. Instead of recognising our vulnerabilities, or low expectations for the relationship, the fear can become directed towards our partner: Why were you talking to her? You obviously fancy him. Why did you like their social media post?

An internal fear has become an external accusation. This does not mean that every jealous person has low self-esteem, nor does it mean that concerns about a partner are necessarily irrational. It simply reminds us that sometimes what we believe we are seeing in another person is partly being shaped by what we believe about ourselves.

Prediction versus evidence

One of the most useful questions to ask when jealousy arises is: Am I responding to evidence, or am I responding to a prediction?

Our minds are constantly making predictions. If we have previously experienced betrayal or rejection, we may become particularly skilled at anticipating it happening again. But there is an important difference between what we observe and what we conclude.

Observation: My partner has been spending more time on their phone.

Interpretation: They seem more private than usual.

Prediction: They must be talking to someone else.

Conclusion: They must be having an affair.

These stages can happen almost instantaneously, particularly when we are emotionally activated. The difficulty is that the feeling of certainty can become stronger than the evidence itself. Before acting on suspicion, it can help to pause and ask what do we actually know and what are we assuming? What am I predicting and is this situation connected to something that happened in the past? What evidence supports our concern and what evidence might not fit that fear?

This does not mean dismissing intuition. It means giving ourselves enough space to understand where the intuition is coming from.

What if something really doesn’t feel right?

There is another side to this. Sometimes we become so concerned about being perceived as jealous or insecure that we can dismiss our own observations entirely. We convince ourselves that we are imagining things, or being paranoid. We tell ourselves that we shouldn’t feel that way.

Yet a genuine change in a partner’s behaviour should not automatically be explained away as insecurity. If someone becomes unusually secretive, repeatedly contradicts themselves, breaks agreed boundaries or behaves in ways that genuinely undermine trust, it is reasonable to pay attention. The aim is therefore not to tell ourselves to always trust our instincts, nor to always distrust them. Instead, we can become curious about them. We can pause and reflect that something doesn’t feel right; but we don’t yet know what it means. That small pause can make an enormous difference.

When concern is dismissed

Relationships also become difficult when one partner repeatedly raises a concern and the other simply dismisses it as an overactive imagination, or that we are too sensitive, too suspicious.

Sometimes reassurance is entirely appropriate. A partner may genuinely be experiencing the present through the lens of previous hurt. But repeated dismissal does not necessarily resolve the underlying issue. A healthy relationship needs space for both people to express uncertainty and discomfort without immediately turning the conversation into a battle over who is right.

The question becomes: Can we explore what is happening together?

There is a significant difference between an invitation to talk and an accusation, or demand for an explanation. Invitation opens a conversation. Accusation can turn fear into control.

Understanding where jealousy comes from may help us understand a behaviour, but it does not automatically justify controlling, intimidating or intrusive behaviour.

Learning to trust yourself, and your partner

Trust is not the absence of uncertainty. It is the ability to tolerate some uncertainty without immediately needing to eliminate it through checking, controlling, accusing or withdrawing. For someone who has experienced betrayal, rebuilding trust may take time. For someone whose jealousy is rooted in insecurity, developing greater self-worth and emotional regulation may be part of the work. And for couples, learning to communicate vulnerability without accusation can create a very different pattern.

Instead of wondering if our fears are well-founded, or if we can prove our fears to be misplaced, we might ask: What is happening here, and can we stay present long enough to understand it?

Jealousy is an emotion. It can contain fear, hurt, insecurity and sometimes useful information about a relationship. But an emotion is not the same as evidence. Learning to recognise the difference between what happened, what we fear, and what we have learned to expect can help us step out of the cycle of vigilance and begin to approach relationships with greater self-awareness, honesty and trust.

How counselling can help

Counselling can provide a space to look beneath jealousy and suspicion rather than simply trying to suppress the feelings themselves. Part of this work can also involve developing greater self-trust. Rather than relying entirely on a partner’s reassurance to determine whether we are safe, loved or worthy, counselling can help us develop a stronger internal point of reference. This means becoming more able to listen to our own feelings and perceptions, consider the evidence, make sense of our experiences and arrive at our own conclusions without automatically surrendering that judgement to either our fears or another person’s reassurance.

The aim is not to become completely independent of others, nor to stop caring what a partner thinks. It is to develop enough inner security to ask important relationship questions. Self- trust allows us to make clear choices based on the information we receive.

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 Resist Change? Understanding the Psychology Behind Our Resistance

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Change is an inevitable part of life, yet it is something many of us resist. We can know that something in our lives is no longer working and still find ourselves unable to change it. We may remain in a relationship that has become unhappy or unhealthy, stay in a job that is making us miserable, continue patterns of behaviour that we recognise are unhelpful, or repeatedly postpone a decision we know we need to make. Sometimes we can see clearly that change would be good for us, yet something within us holds back.

Why do we resist change? There is rarely one simple answer. Our response to change can be influenced by our early experiences, the beliefs we develop about ourselves and the world, patterns that operate outside our conscious awareness, and how much we trust ourselves to cope with whatever change might bring. Understanding where our resistance comes from can be the beginning of changing our relationship with change itself.

Our early experiences of change

As children, we have very little agency over the circumstances of our lives. Parents may separate. We may move house, change school or leave behind friends and familiar surroundings. A parent may take a new job and the whole family may move to another town, city or even country. For a child, a change that may appear practical or necessary to an adult can represent a profound disruption to their world. The people, places, routines and relationships that provide familiarity and security can suddenly change. Yet the child has little ability to influence what is happening. They have to adapt.

These experiences do not determine how we will respond to change as adults, but they can contribute to the beliefs we develop about what change means. For some, change may become associated with possibility, growth and adventure. For others, it may become associated with loss, uncertainty, disruption or having no control. Often, these associations are not conscious.

As we grow, our experiences become woven into the beliefs we hold about ourselves and the world around us. We may come to believe that change means losing something. Or we may develop very different beliefs that change can create new possibilities. These beliefs can influence us without us necessarily realising it. Two people can face almost identical circumstances and experience change very differently because of what change means to each of them.

When the unconscious influences our choices

This is where our resistance to change can become more difficult to understand. We may believe that we are simply making a conscious decision to stay where we are. But beneath that decision there may be fears, beliefs or protective patterns that we have never fully recognised. We may avoid change because it brings up feelings of uncertainty. We may become overwhelmed by the possibility of making the wrong decision. We may repeatedly seek reassurance from others because we don’t trust our own judgement. We may stay with what is familiar even when it is no longer healthy.

The pattern can become so familiar that we stop questioning it. We simply think: This is just how I am. But sometimes what feels like who we are is actually something we have learned in response to earlier experiences.

Carl Jung is often attributed with the following observation: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” The wording is commonly circulated as a paraphrase of Jung rather than a verified verbatim quotation, but the underlying idea is particularly relevant to our relationship with change. When we become more conscious of the beliefs and patterns influencing our choices, we create the possibility of responding differently.

When the familiar becomes safer than the healthy

This can help us understand why people sometimes remain in situations or relationships that have become toxic. From the outside, it is easy to judge the situation and think: ‘Why don’t they just leave?’

But leaving means stepping away from what is known. Even when the familiar situation is painful, it may still provide a degree of predictability. Change can bring uncertainty, grief, loneliness, financial concerns, guilt or the fear of having to face life differently. The question may therefore be less about why someone chooses something unhealthy and more about what they believe they might have to face if they leave. Sometimes we don’t resist change because we want to remain where we are. We resist because we don’t yet trust ourselves to cope with where we might end up.

Developing self-trust

This brings us to an important part of change: our relationship with ourselves. We cannot know exactly what will happen when we make a significant change. We cannot guarantee that a new relationship will work, that a new job will be better, that a difficult decision will have the outcome we hoped for, or that we will never experience regret. If we believe we need certainty before we act, we may remain stuck for a very long time. Self-trust offers another possibility. It is not the belief that everything will work out exactly as we want. It is the belief that whatever happens, we will find a way to meet it.

This is a very different kind of confidence. Instead of needing to trust the outcome, we begin to trust ourselves. We can acknowledge that something may be difficult without assuming that we will be unable to cope with it. We can recognise that we may feel afraid without allowing fear to make every decision for us. We can accept that we don’t have all the answers and still take the next step.

From resistance to awareness

Change often begins before we actually change anything. It can begin with noticing. Noticing the thought that keeps returning, the situation we repeatedly tolerate. Noticing the decision we continually postpone or the fear that appears whenever we consider doing something differently. We also begin to notice the voice that tells us that change is too risky, that we will regret our choices. It says, keep the status quo, things aren’t so bad. It’s all in our head. Rather than immediately arguing with these thoughts, we can become curious about them. Awareness creates space. Within that space, something important can happen. We can begin to distinguish between an old protective response and what we actually want in the present.

Rediscovering agency

As children, change may have happened to us. As adults, we have choices that we did not have then. We can pause, ask questions and seek support. We can establish boundaries. We can change direction. We can make mistakes and learn from them. We can decide what is right for us. This does not mean that adult change is always easy. Sometimes our circumstances genuinely limit our choices, and some changes involve profound loss or consequences that cannot simply be avoided. But recognising our agency can change our relationship with change. Instead of seeing ourselves as someone to whom life simply happens, we can begin to recognise ourselves as someone who can participate in shaping what happens next.

Allowing change rather than forcing it

Perhaps the most transformative shift is moving from forcing ourselves to change to allowing ourselves to change. Allowing change does not mean being passive. It means allowing ourselves to acknowledge what we feel rather than immediately pushing it away. It is allowing ourselves to grieve what we may be leaving behind. Allowing uncertainty to exist without demanding that we have every answer. Allowing ourselves to recognise that something no longer fits. And allowing the possibility that the future does not have to look like the past.

Sometimes change begins with a very small shift: I don’t have to respond in the same way I always have. That realisation can create space for a different choice. When we begin to make different choices, we can discover something that may have been difficult to believe before that we are capable of adapting. We cannot control every change that happens in our lives. We cannot prevent loss, uncertainty or unexpected events. But we can develop a different relationship with ourselves as we move through them.

The child who once had little choice over a family move is not the same person as the adult standing in front of a difficult decision today. The adult has more awareness, more experience and more choice. Change does not always need to be forced. Sometimes, transformation begins when we become conscious of what has been holding us back, reconnect with our own agency, and allow ourselves to take the next step.

If you are exploring change in your own life, my book A Compass for Change offers a further opportunity to reflect on the experiences, beliefs and patterns that can influence the way we navigate life’s transitions.

Change does not come with a map. But by becoming more aware of what shapes our choices, we can begin to develop our own inner compass — one that helps us move through uncertainty with greater self-awareness, trust and choice.

A Compass for Change explores this journey and offers reflections to help you understand yourself more deeply as you navigate change.

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.

When Life Feels Like Too Much: The Pressures of Young Adulthood

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There has been growing discussion in the UK about the mental health of younger people and the pressures they are experiencing. A recent BBC report exploring these questions has brought some of this debate into the wider public conversation. Some of this discussion has been framed around the idea of a “snowflake generation”; a suggestion that younger people may be less resilient than previous generations. But perhaps there is another question worth asking: What if the issue is not simply that young people are less able to cope, but that they are trying to cope with more?

An independent review into mental health, ADHD and autism, chaired by Professor Peter Fonagy, has found evidence that psychological distress has increased particularly among younger people. The review identifies increases in emotional symptoms, loneliness, sleep difficulties, loss of confidence and difficulties concentrating. Importantly, it also emphasises that the reasons for these changes are complex and cannot be explained by one factor alone. This is something I increasingly recognise in my work with younger clients. They may be studying, starting work, building careers, developing relationships and trying to establish an independent life. From the outside, they may appear to be managing. Yet underneath, there can be a persistent sense of pressure; a feeling that they should be further ahead, coping better or somehow more certain about who they are and where they are going. Sometimes life simply feels like too much.

The pressure of becoming an adult

Young adulthood has always involved uncertainty. There has always been the transition from education into work, the development of relationships, financial independence and the gradual discovery of who we are. But these processes are taking place within a very different social environment. University students and graduates may be thinking about their future while facing uncertainty about employment and finances. Those entering the workplace may feel pressure to establish themselves quickly. Social media can provide connection while simultaneously exposing us to other people’s achievements, relationships and lifestyles. News and information are available continuously. There can be very little sense of being completely tuned out. The result can be a strange contradiction. There are more possibilities than ever, yet choosing between them can feel overwhelming. There is more information, yet knowing what to trust can feel difficult. We are constantly connected, yet many young people report feeling lonely. And there can be an increasing expectation to know what we want from life at precisely the age when we are still discovering it.

When external expectations become internal pressure

Perhaps one of the most significant psychological effects of living within this environment is what happens when external expectations become internal ones. A young person may hear messages about success, independence, productivity and achievement from many different directions. Over time, these messages can become an internal voice: I should be doing more. I should have a better job by now. I should know what I want. Everyone else seems to be managing. I should be happier. I shouldn’t find this so difficult.

What began as an expectation from outside can gradually become something we expect from ourselves. This can be particularly difficult when self-worth becomes connected to performance. Not getting the job becomes I am not good enough. Struggling at university becomes I am failing.

Needing time away from work becomes I am lazy. Not knowing what career to pursue becomes I am falling behind. The difficulty is no longer simply the situation itself. It becomes what the situation appears to say about us.

The comparison we cannot switch off

Social media is often identified as one of the pressures affecting younger people, and it is important not to oversimplify this. Social media can provide friendship, community, creativity and support. But it can also create an environment in which we are continually exposed to other people’s lives. We see the promotion, not the uncertainty before it. The relationship, not necessarily the difficulties within it. The achievement, not the years of effort behind it. The finished product, not the unfinished process.

Comparison can therefore become psychologically complicated. We may compare our everyday reality with somebody else’s carefully selected moments. And when we are already uncertain about ourselves, another person’s apparent success can become evidence of our own inadequacy.

When coping becomes another expectation

There is another pressure that is perhaps less obvious. We are increasingly encouraged to be resilient, practise self-care, regulate our emotions and develop healthy coping strategies. These are valuable things. But what happens when coping itself becomes another measure of whether we are doing well?

A person may already be exhausted by work, study, financial worries or relationship difficulties. They may then become anxious because they are not coping with those difficulties in the “right” way. They are not simply struggling. They feel that they are failing at struggling well. This can create another layer of self-criticism. Why can’t I manage this? What is wrong with me?

In therapy, this distinction can be important. The question is not simply, “How can I cope better?” Sometimes it is also: “What have I actually been trying to cope with?”

Loss of psychological space

One of the things we can lose when life becomes demanding is psychological space. There is a difference between being physically alone and having enough internal space to notice what we think and feel. If the day moves from university or work to messages, social media, responsibilities, social expectations and the pressure to make decisions about the future, there may be very little opportunity simply to stop. Without that space, it can become difficult to distinguish between our own wishes and the expectations we have absorbed from other people.

We may know what we should want. But do we know what we actually want? We may know what would look successful. But does it feel meaningful to us?

We may be pursuing a particular future because it is what we have learned to associate with being successful, secure or valued. And sometimes therapy provides the first real opportunity to step back from all of that and ask: What is mine?

Resilience is not equal to suffering in silence

There is an understandable desire to encourage young people to become resilient. But resilience should not mean becoming endlessly capable of carrying pressure without being affected by it. Sometimes resilience involves recognising that something is not working. Sometimes it means asking for help. Sometimes it means setting a boundary. Sometimes it means accepting that we do not yet know what comes next. And sometimes it means questioning an expectation rather than automatically trying harder to meet it. This is not about removing personal responsibility. In fact, greater self-awareness can increase our sense of responsibility because it allows us to make more conscious choices. The important distinction is between choosing our direction and simply responding to everything that is being asked of us.

Which expectations genuinely belong to me?

Growing into adulthood is not a test that we are supposed to pass by a particular age. It is a process of becoming. There will be uncertainty, mistakes, changes of direction and periods when we feel that we are not where we thought we would be. That does not necessarily mean we are failing. Psychotherapy can offer a space to explore the difference between the expectations we have inherited and the values we genuinely hold; between the voice of the inner critic and our own perspective; between what we think we should be and who we are actually becoming. Perhaps the most useful question is therefore not: Why can’t I cope with everything? But: Which of these expectations genuinely belong to me?

Because sometimes life feels like too much not because there is something wrong with us, but because we have become so accustomed to carrying expectations that we have stopped asking whether they were ever ours to carry.

If life is feeling like too much

If you recognise something of yourself in this article, you do not have to wait until things become overwhelming before seeking support. Talking with a therapist can provide a quiet, confidential space to step back from the pressures around you, understand what is happening beneath them, and begin to work out what genuinely matters to you. Therapy is not about telling you what choices to make. It can offer a space to become clearer about your own thoughts, feelings, needs and values, so that you can begin to make those choices for yourself.

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.

When Attachment Styles Meet: The Relationship Beneath the Relationship

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We often think about relationships in terms of what we can see. One person wants more closeness. The other wants more space. One needs reassurance. The other becomes frustrated by the need for reassurance. One wants to talk about what has happened. The other shuts down. One feels ignored. The other feels pressured. On the surface, these can look like communication problems. But beneath the conversation, something else may be taking place.

Attachment can influence not only how we relate to another person, but how we experience ourselves within a relationship; whether we feel secure enough to express our needs, whether distance feels threatening, whether closeness feels comforting or overwhelming, and how quickly we interpret another person’s behaviour as a sign that something is wrong. This is where understanding attachment can take us beyond the question, Which attachment style am I? A more useful question may be: What happens between us when our attachment patterns meet?

Attachment is activated in relationship

Attachment is not simply a label we carry around with us. Our early experiences can contribute to expectations about relationships; whether other people are available, whether our needs will be noticed, whether closeness is safe, and whether we can remain ourselves while being emotionally connected to someone else. These expectations can remain outside our conscious awareness until a relationship activates them. A delayed message may therefore become more than a delayed message. A partner needing time alone may feel like rejection. A request for reassurance may feel like pressure. A change in someone’s tone of voice may be experienced as a warning that something is wrong. The reaction can seem disproportionate to the event because the emotional response is not necessarily coming from the event alone. The present situation may have touched something much older. This is one reason relationships can sometimes feel confusing. We may know intellectually that something is relatively small, yet emotionally it can feel much bigger.

The subliminal communication pattern

This connects with something I explored in my earlier article, The Conversation Beneath the Conversation. What we say to each other is not always the whole communication. A disagreement about spending time together may contain a deeper question: Do I matter to you? A disagreement about needing space may contain: Can I have some independence without losing the relationship? A disagreement about commitment may contain: Can I trust that you will still be here?

Beneath a strong reaction to another person’s needs there may be an equally important question: Can I be close to someone without losing myself?

These questions are not always consciously spoken. Sometimes they are communicated through behaviour instead. We may pursue, withdraw, become defensive, become overly accommodating, seek reassurance, become controlling, shut down or avoid difficult conversations. The behaviour may make sense when we understand what it is trying to protect.

When protection meets protection

One of the difficulties in relationships is that two people can be trying to feel safe in completely different ways. Imagine someone who becomes anxious when they sense emotional distance. Their instinct may be to move towards the other person; to talk, ask questions, seek reassurance or try to resolve the uncertainty. Now imagine that the other person experiences emotional intensity as overwhelming. Their instinct may be to create space; to become quiet, withdraw, delay the conversation or retreat into themselves. Each person is attempting to regulate their own discomfort. But their protective responses can inadvertently activate the other person’s. The more one person seeks closeness, the more the other may feel the need for space. The more the other withdraws, the more the first person may feel the need to seek reassurance.

A cycle begins:

Distance → anxiety → pursuit → pressure → withdrawal → greater anxiety → further pursuit.

At some point, the original issue may almost disappear. The relationship is now responding to the pattern itself. Neither person necessarily intended to create it. Neither may understand why the same argument keeps happening. And both may feel that the other person is the problem.

When our interpretation becomes part of the pattern

Attachment can also influence the meaning we give to another person’s behaviour. This is important because we do not respond only to what happens. We respond to what we believe what happens means. A partner becoming quiet might mean: “They need some time to think.”

Or it might mean: They are losing interest in me.

A partner wanting an evening alone might mean: They value their independence. Or: “They don’t want to be with me.”

Someone asking for reassurance might mean: They are feeling vulnerable and want connection. Or: Nothing I do will ever be enough.

The behaviour may be the same; the internal meaning can be very different. This is why developing awareness of our own attachment responses can be so valuable. It creates a small space between what happens and what we immediately believe it means. Within that space, something different becomes possible.

Secure attachment is not perfect attachment

It can be tempting to think of secure attachment as the absence of insecurity, conflict or difficult emotions. Real relationships are rarely that simple. Even someone who generally experiences relationships as secure can feel jealous, rejected, frightened, angry or overwhelmed. The difference is not necessarily whether we become activated; it is what happens when we do. Can I recognise that something has been triggered in me? Can I pause before reacting? Can I distinguish what I know from what I fear? Can I communicate my experience without assuming I know what the other person is thinking? Can I allow my partner to have a different perspective without experiencing that difference as a threat to the relationship?

And perhaps most importantly: Can we repair?

A healthy relationship does not require two people to get everything right. It requires enough emotional safety for both people to acknowledge when something has gone wrong and find their way back to one another.

Staying connected without losing yourself

There is another dimension to attachment that is sometimes overlooked. Attachment is not only about how securely we connect with another person. It can also influence how securely we remain connected to ourselves. Some people become highly attuned to the needs, feelings and expectations of those around them. They may become so focused on maintaining harmony that their own preferences gradually become difficult to recognise. Others may protect themselves through emotional distance. Independence becomes so important that vulnerability can feel uncomfortable or even unsafe.

In both situations, an important question can become lost: What am I actually feeling, thinking or needing?

Being in a relationship does not require us to abandon ourselves. Nor does maintaining ourselves require emotional distance from others. A mature relationship allows both people to exist. I can be close to you and still be me. You can be different from me and I can remain secure in myself.

You can have your needs and I can have mine.

This is part of what makes emotional intimacy possible.

Moving from reaction towards awareness

Understanding attachment is not about deciding which person is anxious, which person is avoidant, or who is responsible for the problems within a relationship. It is about becoming curious about the pattern. When something happens, we might begin by asking: What happened? Then: What did I immediately believe it meant? What did I feel? What did I want to do? What was I trying to protect? And perhaps: What might my response have communicated to the other person?

This does not mean taking responsibility for another person’s behaviour. It means becoming more aware of our own part in the interaction. Awareness gives us choices that automatic reaction does not. We may discover that underneath anger there is fear. Underneath withdrawal there may be vulnerability. Underneath the need for reassurance there may be a longing to feel valued. Underneath the need for distance there may be a need to feel autonomous and emotionally safe. The behaviour is not the whole story. There is usually a relationship beneath the relationship.

We bring our history into relationships, but we are not confined by it

Our early relationships can influence the expectations and protective patterns we bring into adult relationships. But attachment is not a life sentence. Awareness can change the way we understand ourselves. A person who once automatically pursued may learn to pause and communicate their need more directly. A person who habitually withdrew may learn that remaining present during difficult conversations does not necessarily mean losing themselves. Two people may begin to recognise the cycle they have been caught in rather than continuing to fight each other from within it. This is where psychotherapy can offer something particularly valuable. Rather than simply asking “Why do I behave like this?”, therapy can help us become curious about the experiences, meanings and emotional patterns beneath our behaviour. Over time, we can begin to recognise the moment when an old expectation enters a present relationship. And perhaps that is where change begins. Not by becoming a different person. Not by achieving perfect security. But by becoming sufficiently aware to notice: Something has been activated in me. And from there, we can begin to ask: What belongs to the past, what belongs to the present, and how would I like to respond now? Because the goal of understanding attachment is not to find the perfect attachment style. It is to develop a greater capacity for connection; with another person, and with ourselves.

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.