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.
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.
