As Sara settled into the chair across from me, I could see that she was struggling.

“Sara,” I began gently, “tell me what’s on your mind.”

She took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. “I’ve worked tirelessly to escape the shadow of growing up in poverty. Today, I’m financially successful, but it feels like this very success is driving a wedge between Greg and me.”

I nodded, understanding how she felt. “It sounds like your financial status, something you worked so hard for, is becoming a source of tension in your relationship.”

“Yes,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “Sometimes I feel superior to Greg because of the money I make, and I resent him for not striving as hard. I hate admitting this, but it’s the truth.”

I leaned forward, hoping she would feel seen and heard. “It’s brave of you to acknowledge that our backgrounds and past experiences often influence our present in ways we might not realize.”

She looked up, her eyes searching for answers. “And what about Greg?”

Drawing from our previous sessions, I recounted, “Greg has grown up with the traditional belief that he should be the provider. Earning less than you challenges his deep-seated notions of masculinity and success. He might be manifesting his insecurities through passive-aggressive behaviors as a way to regain a sense of control.”

Sara’s face reflected the dawning realization. “So, we’re both letting our egos and shadows sabotage our relationship?”

“In a way, yes,” I replied. “For you to confront these responses, Sara, it would require introspection into how your past shapes your present sense of worth. And for Greg, he needs to challenge the societal expectations he has internalized.”

She wiped away a tear, determination in her eyes. “We need to work on ourselves. At times it feels so hard, but it’s necessary.”

I smiled, feeling a spark of hope for Sara and Greg. “That’s the spirit. Remember, this journey of self-awareness and growth, though challenging, will lead to a deeper connection and understanding.”

Engaging in this type of inner exploration provides many benefits beyond just breaking free from toxic relationships. Doing ego and shadow work leads to increased emotional maturity; we can take responsibility for our actions once we recognize how our past experiences may have impacted us in ways we weren’t aware of before. It also helps foster greater emotional intelligence by teaching us how to be mindful about our reactions when faced with difficult emotions. Additionally, engaging in this type of personal growth increases our self-awareness, which leads to improved decision-making and communication skills.

Engaging in ego and shadow work is essential when healing after a toxic relationship because it allows us to gain greater insight into why these unhealthy dynamics existed in the first place. It also helps us develop more effective coping skills for any future challenges that may arise. When done correctly, these exercises help build confidence while honing valuable qualities such as increased self-awareness, emotional depth, emotional maturity, and emotional intelligence—all necessary components needed when navigating life’s ever-changing landscape.

Through healing, we shed parts of us that adapted to survival responses. Now, we learn to adapt to emotional peace that can help us heal and grow, leading to more authentic and fulfilling relationships with ourselves and others.

This work isn’t easy, though, and psychological roadblocks often keep us from being able to engage with our ego and shadow. So, what might keep us from doing this important work? One of these major roadblocks is survival mode, which we’ll discuss in the next chapter.

7 Survival Mode

Sometimes, it’s hard to see the work that needs to be done. We may not even be aware that becoming the best version of ourselves is possible. I see this most in my clients who are experiencing chronic survival mode. In survival mode, they aren’t able to live up to the full expanse of their potential because they’re nursing wounds that limit emotional growth.

If you are wondering whether this is you, one clue is whether you’ve ever felt “normal” and safe in your own body. For people who have spent a large portion of their life in survival mode, there is often a pervasive struggle with battling triggers and attachment wounds. This can look like scanning the environment for threats (hypervigilance), avoiding situations that create threats, or the compulsion to entertain relationships that inflame threats. When you live in survival mode, your brain focuses on using significant events of the past to predict what lies ahead. Unbeknownst to you, your brain is constantly scanning your environment for familiar touchpoints in order to help you navigate life predictably.

Your brain has one job: to keep you alive. And if it is able to predict and navigate what’s ahead while keeping you alive, then the job is done! But by doing this, we resist change. Adapting to change means accepting a period of time where the dynamic is unknown. This is especially true in your interpersonal relationships. In order to keep you alive after a traumatic event, your body must anticipate what’s next. And believe it or not, this can mean choosing familiarity even when it is unsafe, since at least you know what to expect and how to navigate this dynamic. This is one way we fall into unhealthy patterns.

Here are a few examples of what our relationships can look like when we’re living in survival mode:

Living in Extremes: Needing intense chemistry and emotional volatility. Cycling between make-ups and breakups to feel loved in a relationship.

Obsession and Preoccupation: Obsessing about a new partner by fantasizing, romanticizing, idealizing, or love-bombing. Staying preoccupied by how a new partner feels about you while ignoring how you feel about them because you’re focused on being chosen.

Emotional Volatility: Vacillating between love-bombing, breadcrumbing, and ghosting, creating intense emotional highs and lows. Initiating push-pull behavior when uncertain about a partner’s intentions or when you need to maintain control.

Living on Autopilot: Being reactive, cycling between high anxiety and depression, and neglecting self-care and activities as your body does its best to cope while you’re living in survival mode.

Avoidance: Walling yourself off from emotional connections because they feel too intense and overwhelming, or feeling afraid of showing vulnerability.

Disconnection: Distracting yourself with drugs, alcohol, emotionally addictive relationships, romanticizing, or fantasizing to avoid the pain after a breakup.

Insecurity and Low Self-Worth: Comparing yourself to your friends or your partner’s exes, sometimes to the extent that you become obsessed with becoming a version of them or better than them.

Self-Abandonment and Self-Betrayal: Chronic people-pleasing to secure love, attention, and affection.

Notice the constant presence of emotional extremes. It’s no wonder some might resort to relationships that make them feel good in the moment, only to have those relationships blaze like a forest fire and end just as quickly as they started. In many ways, these relationships burn out quickly because we’re often chasing the high of new love to distract us from our pain.

THE UNCONSCIOUS MINd

At the heart of our choices, especially in relationships, is our unconscious mind. It’s like an inner compass, shaped by early experiences, trying to guide us. It wants us to understand ourselves better, especially the patterns we may unknowingly repeat.

Growing up, your parents or caregivers sketched out the first draft of what relationships look like. As kids, our brains are like sponges, soaking up these lessons. For those of us who grew up always on alert, always in “survival mode,” healthy relationships can feel unsettling. When you’re used to chaos, calm waters can seem suspicious.

But recognizing these patterns is the magic key. It’s like turning on a light in a dark room. The truth is, if our families didn’t prioritize emotional safety when we were young, it’s tricky for us to understand or offer it as adults. This is where cycles begin—each generation unintentionally passing on the same patterns. Unresolved trauma doesn’t just haunt our minds; it affects our bodies, too. You might find yourself always tired, even if you’re eating right and sleeping well. For some, this lingering trauma messes up sleep, leading to mood swings, anxiety, and sometimes depression. And to cope, many turn to the comfort of new relationships. A new relationship is like a spark in the dark—it’s exciting and refreshing. All the old insecurities fade away when this new connection makes us feel valued.

But here’s the catch: those old issues? They have a way of sneaking back. That realization hit me hard. After my divorce, the emotional weight of it all only truly sunk in a few months later. Looking back, I was constantly on edge, never truly feeling settled or safe anywhere.

Survival mode is isolating. It’s like being trapped in a maze of our own making. We yearn for more but keep walking the same loops, influenced by the patterns we learned early on. It’s like living on a tightrope—always tense, prioritizing others and neglecting ourselves.

This can look like:

Being the resident fixer (attending to emergencies for everyone).

Being hypercritical, argumentative, or crying easily; you’re in a constant battle with yourself and others.

Not engaging with play, creativity, or joy; rarely taking the time to decompress (not to be confused with numbing out); difficulty sleeping and always needing more down time.

Rarely making future plans because the intensity of the present is too much.

Denying and normalizing generational trauma because you’re wedded to repeating patterns that allowed you to survive; resistance to being curious around these patterns.

Feeling tired, stressed, and overwhelmed all the time; low sex drive.

The closeness of intimacy, the raw exposure of vulnerability, and the depth of genuine connections can sometimes feel like foreign territories for someone who has spent much of their life in survival mode. Why? Imagine growing up where chaos was the norm, where the unpredictable was predictable. These environments mold our perspectives, teaching us that true closeness means potential pain. We might unintentionally derail relationships when they come too close, or choose ones that stir up chaos and uncertainty. This isn’t just being difficult; it’s a defense mechanism. If we’re always amid confusion, we never have to truly let our guard down and risk getting hurt in new ways. This can make it hard to dive in and do the work.

This internal script can play out in multiple ways:

Unfamiliar Territory: Intimacy and deep connections become foreign lands. Venturing there feels like setting foot in an unknown world, with threats lurking. This unfamiliarity can push you into the arms of relationships that echo the chaos and confusion of the past, just because it’s what you know.

Self-Sabotage: Getting too close feels dangerous. So, consciously or unconsciously, you might push partners away before they can potentially hurt you. It’s a protective mechanism, ensuring emotional safety even if it results in loneliness.

Fear of Abandonment: Ironically, the very fear of being left can drive behaviors ensuring it happens. You might gravitate toward partners who won’t stay, or push them away through neglect or constant testing of their loyalty.

In relationships, these beliefs manifest in distinct patterns:

Surface Interactions: You keep things light and casual. Deep dives into feelings? They’re avoided, which leads to emotional distance.