Mood Swings: You’re in a constant swing between pessimism and optimism. Every situation, no matter how minor, feels like a looming crisis.

Anticipating Chaos: Even in peaceful moments, there’s a nagging feeling that something will go wrong. It’s like always waiting for the rain, even under clear skies.

Staying Busy to Create Avoidance: Overloading life with tasks and “busy work” provides a sense of purpose. But it’s ultimately a distraction, a way to avoid confronting emotional pain.

Overthinking Control: Even if you think you’re laid-back, there’s a constant background noise of things you believe you should control.

With all these patterns, it’s no wonder the body and mind feel out of sync. This is why you might feel like you’re living in a constant state of high alert, even when there’s no apparent threat. It’s like being in perpetual survival mode, distanced from your true emotional and physical needs.

Adding to that, unresolved emotional trauma results in toxic shame. You believe there is something inherently wrong with you, so you search externally for something to fix and distract from yourself.

This is where toxic relationships and codependency feed into each other.

As much as you want to feel loved—you might even dream and fantasize about it—it’s still foreign to you if you grew up with parents who were themselves in survival mode, leaving you feeling unwanted and unloved. Now, you might think, Why would I want to repeat these patterns? Why would I want to get into a relationship that mirrors what I experienced growing up? This goes back to how our brains crave the familiar. Even if the familiar isn’t healthy, it is still predictable. Your brain is actively resisting change.

This cycle perpetuates survival mode; you’re living unconsciously on autopilot, choosing the same experiences because they’re familiar to you. For example, if you grew up with a parent who was emotionally distant, you may choose a partner who is avoidantly attached and unable to meet your emotional needs around connection and closeness. Even if you desperately want to be loved and find the love you’ve always wanted, there’s a part of you that might still feel unworthy and unlovable, so you engage in behavior that sabotages the relationship.

This is your body’s way of protecting you from further harm, but it can also keep you trapped in survival mode, choosing familiarity over emotional health in a process called repetitive compulsion.

REPETITIVE COMPULSION

Think of repetitive compulsion like a playlist on repeat. Even though we might have hundreds of songs, we find ourselves listening to the same ones. Why? It’s the same reason we might choose the same type of partners or fall into old habits. They’re familiar. Our brain loves what it knows. Imagine it like walking a well-worn path in a forest. Even if it’s not the best or safest path, it’s the one we know, so we stick to it.

For me, I often found myself with partners who let me down. Not on purpose, but it felt easier. I saw parts of myself in them, and honestly, getting to know someone new felt like a lot of work. Deep down, I had this nagging feeling that maybe I didn’t deserve better. So, I kept walking that same path.

This is why some of us might go back to an ex, even if we know they’re not right for us. Trying a new path or a new relationship feels uncertain. It’s stepping into the unknown. But sometimes, the unknown could be the very place we find what we’re truly looking for.

Repetitive compulsion gives birth to the unconscious commitment we often make to repeating unhelpful patterns. Once we get to the chapter on thriving in this book, we will have the strength to let go of these commitments. They may have served you well in the past. For example, having rigid boundaries after a breakup is normal and expected, as we talked about in hermit mode, but if you keep them rigid long enough, they might turn into emotional walls. Our process of healing is intended to guide us toward a time where we no longer need these commitments and can let go of the compulsion to repeat them.

What does this mean for our relationships? We often choose what’s familiar even if it’s unsafe because we know what to expect. It feels as though we’re securing what we missed growing up, or at least attempting to right the story.

For example, if you grew up in a home where love, attention, and affection from a parent wasn’t readily available, you might find yourself in an unhealthy relationship with someone who also withholds love, seeking the love you missed. Again, this pattern of emotional unavailability is familiar to you, so it feels “safe.” Perhaps you tried to earn love by performing or auditioning for it because the message you received is you weren’t worthy otherwise. Feeling lovable as you are without having to work for it amid uncertainty and volatility might even seem strange to you. You might have a hard time believing in this love when it is given to you due to the lurking toxic shame you have around your worthiness.

The other side of this is that while you’re seeking the love you missed, you’ve also learned to expect very little of it. This is why you might people-please and/or accept breadcrumbs of attention and approval in your platonic, romantic, or professional relationships in order to secure acceptance. For many of my clients, acceptance and approval feel like the love they always needed, even if it was rarely expressed in this way growing up. So while you may be seeking what you missed, you are doing exactly that—seeking the very little love, attention, and affection that you are used to. Your brain learned to normalize this as a reference point for what to expect in relationships.

These relationships are rarely healthy and eventually erupt in turmoil down the line. Due to this underlying dysfunction, the people you choose aren’t equipped to give you the love you missed and ultimately need—unless they’re doing their own inner work. So you end up back where you started: seeking partners who perpetuate unhealthy patterns of relating that repeat cycles of trauma as you relive your childhood in survival mode.

And keep in mind, none of this is your fault. Much of this is unconscious until we become aware enough to garner the necessary insights that then set the stage for change. Healing isn’t simply a tool for survival, it’s a practice that will help you return to your authentic self.

Over the years, I’ve had many clients exhibit these patterns, but I always return to one client in particular: Morgan. Her story shows how these past familial dynamics often play out in our romantic relationships. As you read the following, note where you’ve either engaged in similar behavior or you were the recipient of it.

Morgan was in her mid-thirties and had a pattern of intense, volatile relationships. She was always chasing after that intense chemistry and emotional volatility that came with them. During our first session, she shared with me how she would obsess over her new partners, romanticize them, and love-bomb them with all her might.

“I just need to feel that connection,” she said, “and if I don’t, I move on.”

It was clear to me that Morgan’s preoccupation with her partners was her way of feeling loved and chosen. It was her survival mode, her way of coping with the fear of being alone. But this way of coping was not healthy, and it was taking a toll on her.

Morgan’s emotional volatility was another red flag. She would go from love-bombing her partners to breadcrumbing and ghosting them, creating intense emotional highs and lows. When she felt uncertain about her partner’s intentions, she would initiate push-pull behavior to maintain control. It was like she was living on autopilot, reactive to her partners’ actions, neglecting self-care and other activities.

From our sessions, I observed Morgan avoid emotional connections because they felt too intense and overwhelming. Her disconnection manifested in drug and alcohol abuse, and emotionally addictive relationships. She would distract herself with romanticizing and fantasizing to avoid the pain after a breakup. Morgan’s insecurity and low self-worth were evident in her comparison to her friends and her partners’ exes. She would chronically people-please, abandoning herself and betraying her values to secure love, attention, and affection.

During our therapy sessions, Morgan and I delved into her past and the origins of her coping mechanisms. As we unwound the layers, several moments stood out:

Mindfulness Techniques: In one of our sessions, Morgan took a deep breath and tried a simple mindfulness exercise. With every breath, she felt a wave of calmness she wasn’t used to. It was like opening an old photo album; she realized that her rush for love and validation echoed the quiet loneliness of her childhood. That stillness made her recognize the distractions she used to mask her feelings around the emotional neglect she experienced as a child.

Identifying Emotions: During a therapy session, we worked on naming what she felt during certain memories. Morgan’s eyes lit up when she realized that the “fear” she often felt in relationships was the same unease she felt as a child around her unpredictable dad. It’s like she found missing pieces of a puzzle, making sense of why she sought relationships that mirrored the emotional chaos of her early life.

Building Self-Worth: As Morgan wrote down moments when she felt she compromised too much in relationships, she remembered molding herself into someone she thought her parents would love more. Those memories helped her see that her pattern of people-pleasing started way back when she tried to be the “good kid” just to get a little more attention and love.

Emotional Role-Play: During an emotional role-play, Morgan’s reactions felt eerily similar to her childhood—those days when she tiptoed around her parents, trying to gauge their moods. She saw that her push-pull actions with partners weren’t just random; they were a replay of her early attempts to control an unpredictable home environment.

Reframing Her Past: Morgan began to view her past through a more understanding and compassionate lens. When she reflected on a particularly difficult breakup, memories of her childhood resurfaced—times when she had to summon inner strength. Gradually, a pattern became evident: her tendency to dive into passionate relationships was her way of re-creating the tumultuous emotions she experienced growing up.

Through these examples and many sessions together, Morgan began to grasp how her past traumas and coping mechanisms had shaped her current behavior. It was a challenging journey, but with each session, she took a step closer to breaking her patterns and embracing a healthier approach to relationships.

Morgan gradually learned to become more present and accept her emotions without judgment. She learned to set boundaries and communicate her needs with her partners. Over time, Morgan started to let go of her old patterns and embrace healthier ways of coping. She learned to love and accept herself, and in turn, she started choosing healthier relationships. Morgan’s journey was beautiful to witness. She learned to live in the middle ground, away from the extremes of emotional volatility and avoidance. That, my dears, is what true healing is all about.

During our sessions, Morgan and I comfortably settled into sharing and exploring her roller-coaster relationships. With a soft sigh and a distant gaze, she explained, “There’s this rush of excitement and passion that just … makes me feel so alive, you know?”

Digging a bit deeper into the rough patches of these relationships, Morgan hesitated before sharing, “It gets tough. The fear of losing someone, the anxiety … I just react, sometimes impulsively.”

As the memories of her past began to flow, Morgan opened up about her unpredictable mother, drawing an unintended parallel between the inconsistent love in her childhood and her patterns in adult relationships.

Gently reflecting on her past, Morgan’s voice quivered. “I’ve always looked for that intensity, that chaos in relationships. Maybe it’s my way of filling that childhood void. But deep down, what I’ve been longing for is stability, consistency, and genuine emotional connection.”

Morgan’s story resonated with a pattern I’d seen before. It was as if she’d been on autopilot, drawn subconsciously to the familiarity of her tumultuous past. This survival instinct, a deeply ingrained mechanism to seek out immediate emotional safety, had Morgan mistaking fleeting moments of attention for genuine, lasting connection. There was this pattern, almost an addiction to the ebb and flow of her relationships. It provided a temporary high, a short-lived escape from deeper, lingering issues. This cycle, although comforting in its familiarity, was inadvertently toxic.

The challenge—and beauty—of therapy lies in gently guiding clients like Morgan to see these patterns. It’s not always clear cut, and that’s okay. Many of us are in this unintentional “survival mode,” just getting by. But living on the edge and constantly reacting can sometimes lead us astray. Recognizing this and understanding it can be the first step toward healing and genuine connection.

My goal is to help my clients see this and begin to develop a greater sense of self-awareness and emotional regulation as they heal. Sarah learned to recognize when she was falling back into old patterns, and therefore make different choices based on what she truly needed and wanted.

By learning to live more authentically and prioritizing our own needs and desires, we can break free from the cycle of dysfunction in relationships. By moving out of survival mode and into a space of self-regulation and healing, we begin to attract partners who are able to meet our needs and create healthy, fulfilling connections. This is what makes the healing journey about returning home to ourselves. Maybe we can’t solve our problems overnight, but we can engage in activities that allow us to be mindful of what’s happening in our heart, mind, and body.

But there’s one thing that often prevents us from leaving this behind: toxic shame.

WHAT IS TOXIC SHAME?

Toxic shame, at its heart, is that lingering feeling that, deep down, there’s something fundamentally wrong with us, even if there’s no clear reason to feel that way. It’s like an internal voice that whispers, “You’re not good enough,” or “You’re unlovable,” regardless of what the world outside tells us. It’s not about the mistakes we make or the times we stumble; it’s more about an ingrained belief that our very essence is flawed. It’s important to remember, though, that while these feelings might be deeply rooted, they don’t define our worth or potential. Recognizing them is the first step toward healing and self-love.

For the survivors of relational trauma, all of this feels very real, even if it isn’t. Consequently, our core task when healing after relational trauma is to heal the shame that sits silently at our core, fueling a life grounded in survival mode.

To fully identify and stamp out this dangerous internal talk, we need to understand the difference between healthy shame and toxic shame.

Healthy Shame: Think of healthy shame as a gentle internal reminder that we’re human and imperfect. It nudges us, saying, “Hey, maybe that wasn’t the best choice,” and it encourages us to recognize our boundaries and limitations. Healthy shame can serve as a form of protection, ensuring that we don’t overstep or harm ourselves and others. It’s a way for our conscience to guide us in our relationships and actions, promoting personal growth.

Toxic Shame: On the other hand, toxic shame feels heavier and all-consuming. It’s not just about our actions, but it takes a toll on our very identity. Instead of saying, “I made a mistake,” it whispers, “I am a mistake.” It’s the pervasive feeling that we are fundamentally flawed or unlovable, often stemming from past traumas or deeply ingrained beliefs. Over time, this can hinder our self-worth, relationships, and overall well-being.

Keeping all of this in mind, it’s common for us to confuse feelings of shame with those of guilt. Consider this scenario in the context of a toxic or codependent relationship: Imagine you forget your partner’s birthday. If you’re feeling guilt, you recognize the action—forgetting the date—as the issue. You might think, “I made a mistake and need to apologize.” But if you’re feeling shame, it’s more like thinking, “I’m a terrible partner and person because I forgot.”