I tried to help them, I truly and honestly did. I gave it everything I had again and again but it was never enough. It never stopped the bleeding. They never felt loved enough, respected enough, seen or appreciated enough. I tried until it felt like it was killing me. I tried until there was nothing left of who I was— my dreams, my passions, my voice, all gone. I tried.

I tried but some people are so damn broken that no matter what you do, say, be, have, give, love— no matter what they don’t see it, they don’t receive it. No matter how much I loved them, it never reached their heart— I never got beyond their false perceptions and armor.

When someone’s perception is that far gone, you can’t get through to them, not without professional intervention. They need help and if you were with them for a period of time, you may need help too in your recovery.

Being around people like this changes the way you perceive people. You end up second guessing the help that comes to you because you never knew what real help was. It changes how you move. Most people know what PTSD is but in circumstances like this, where you’re in it for a long while, you can end up with CPTSD. It can be crippling and take a long time to recover from. I’ve read some research recently that psychological abuse changes the function and structure of your brain. Often effecting your memory and certainly your own emotional regulation.

Sadly, in our youth, whoever raised us is who we learn how to be human from and if they couldn’t manage to do these things, how would we ever learn? If emotional regulation looks like being blamed by your parent for all their problems, your response as an adult to problems may be feelings of shame and shutting down.
I am the first person to think about why I want to respond in a situation the way I do, probably because I was shown such dysregulation as a child. It was chaotic.

The saddest part and women in particular get harshly judged for this one; we stayed. We stay long past time to leave. Well, there’s a myriad of reasons but the only way it will make sense is if I go back to the beginning. I was trained to. I was trained with false hope and empty promises. I was taught that that’s what love looked like. Bread crumbing. Giving just enough. Pulling me in when I did what was wanted then pushing me away. But as a child, you can’t leave, therein learning also, that you can’t leave… so you stay. You get used to being treated poorly, it’s normal. So, in a romantic relationship why would it be any different? If a parent did this, the one person who was supposed to love you SO much— destroyed you, why would you expect anything more from anyone else. Sure, you may look for it but until you get comfortable with being uncomfortable in a good way, you’ll just meet the same monster that lived in your caretaker, again.

I didn’t want the same thing, but I ended up with it. I really had to learn to love and respect myself and honor myself and my desires. I had to learn how and when to walk away.

It becomes a painful wakeup call when you realize that you’re always in a state of trying to make it work. Whatever happened to just “being?” As in, we’re just together and it works. If you feel like you’re always trying to make it work, propping this up, holding this part together, duct taping that spot there, holding back your emotions, weighing your words—- oh my gods that’s so exhausting! It is no wonder how someone becomes so emotionally dysregulated and needs to actually recover from the relationship! Right!?!?

When a relationship sucks the joy out of your life, it’s time to go. When it feels exhausting it’s time to go. When it feels choreographed and calculated, it’s time to go. When the highs are so high and the lows are so low, it’s time to GO.

Sometimes we follow patterns until we just don’t anymore. It’s always pain that ends the cycle. The pain of sameness. Sameness was taught as being safety, even if it wasn’t pleasant sameness but at least you knew what to expect. The pain of betrayal. The pain of cruelty. The pain of your spirit spitting blood… the pain of not being able to go on like this anymore. The pain of “I tried but I just can’t anymore…” “come hell or highwater I can’t anymore and I’ll make a way out.

That’s when ‘trying’ ends. The last attempt usually comes out as a vacant and exhausted breath and a whimper but the trying ends because you’ve finally had enough.

Relationships were never meant to drain us of all of our resources and I’m sorry if you were taught that they do. Sadly, those relationships don’t get better. Something is terribly misaligned there and must be walked away from just for self-preservations sake. I’m speaking from my own experience here… It’s an utterly painful and empty road this one, until you leave, then hope is restored. May you learn your limits on “I tried,” because takers don’t have limits…

Blessings xx