Empaths and relationships
The trouble is we have no training in the art of relationships
Perhaps you've been calling in sick more frequently at work—either to recover from the emotional aftermath of yet another relationship breakdown, or because sleep deprivation has taken hold as your mind endlessly ruminates on the ongoing relationship struggles. Your managers or team leaders may have started to notice a dip in your performance. You question how a relationship can exert such a powerful emotional grip over your life.
As a mother, you might find yourself snapping at your children while juggling the pressures of parenting, all while feeling trapped in the emotional limbo of a relationship. Guilt soon follows, as you realize that your children have become innocent victims of your frustration—frustration that has nothing to do with them. Deep down, you know who the real culprit is: the person who has shattered your sense of peace. You long to scream and express your anger at them for the disappointment they’ve caused. But you hold back, fearing that doing so might only push them further away or prompt retaliation, deepening the cycle of hurt. This leaves you in a constant state of dissatisfaction.
You may desperately crave time to process your emotions, yet the demands of parenting offer no break. You push forward, all while your heart aches. In an effort to distract yourself, you turn to friends, hoping for a temporary reprieve from the emotional pain. At times, you enjoy fleeting moments of relief during conversations, where the weight of the relationship is momentarily lifted. But as soon as the conversation ends and you're alone again, the thoughts return, almost as if they are sitting beside you in the car.
You may find yourself caught in a cycle of uncertainty, unsure of when to officially start the grieving process—whether that means finally ending the relationship, committing to "no contact," or facing the inevitable grief that will come. Each time you reach out or they make a superficial gesture to reconnect, the "glimmers of hope" are reignited. The grief feels like two steps forward, one step back. Whether you're grieving the loss of the relationship or the unfulfilled emotional needs, you feel it deeply. Often, the lack of effort from the person you once adored leads to intense self-scrutiny and self-doubt. You question your worth and wonder why you're not enough. Meanwhile, it seems that the person who keeps breaking your heart is receiving no such scrutiny.
For many of my clients, anxiety is a constant companion. Thoughts about future scenarios swirl endlessly, and there's a frantic focus on when your partner might reach out, what they might say (if anything), and searching for any sign that things might change. This anxious anticipation often leads to crushing disappointment when nothing shifts.
You may fear you're losing your grip on reality, feeling shame about what you've subjected yourself to in trying to maintain the relationship. You might feel misunderstood by others—perhaps your friends are growing weary of hearing the same story over and over. It feels as though they lack the objectivity to truly understand your situation. Despite all the frustration and disappointment, you're not quite ready to leave. You might just need someone neutral to talk to, without your friends getting frustrated or offering advice on what they think you should do.
But there is a way out.
You can regain control of your emotional well-being by learning how to disconnect from the intrusive ruminations and the meaning you attach to the relationship. By uncovering the core beliefs and values that are misaligned with the relationship, you can stop violating your own needs.
As you break free from the endless cycle of relationship-related thoughts, you regain clarity. You no longer feel as though you’re fumbling in the dark, trying to make sense of a relationship that no longer serves you. Instead, you gain insight into what’s really happening, and the confusion starts to dissipate. You understand the true nature of the emotional hijacking you've been experiencing. The locus of control shifts back to you, and you stop seeking validation or change from the other person.
You begin to notice changes: you're more present with colleagues, friends, and family. Conversations no longer revolve around the turmoil of the relationship. Friends can just be friends, rather than pseudo-therapists. You find new energy for creative pursuits or rediscover hobbies you once enjoyed. Your passions reignite, and you start to find joy in the simple things. You know your worth and are clear on what you have to offer, and to whom. Your mood stabilizes, and your anxiety subsides.
Day by day, the mental space you once dedicated to the person you loved starts to shrink. You may even catch yourself realizing that you haven’t thought about them at all. A deep sigh of relief washes over you. Where has this feeling of freedom been all along? Blocking them on social media or deleting their number no longer feels daunting—it feels empowering. You've untethered yourself from the toxic dependency you once had, and you can now focus on your own growth without being preoccupied by unanswered texts or the psychological mind games that once consumed you.
Freedom lives here.
Perhaps you’re finally ready to stop replaying the traumatic memories of past relationships—memories that have made it so difficult to trust or even consider the possibility of love again.
Or maybe you’re exhausted by how those past experiences are still affecting your current relationship. Perhaps you’ve simply had enough of attracting partners who leave you feeling anxious and unsettled, all because their version of love doesn’t align with your own.