Slow dancing in a burning room - Why we continue to stay in unhealthy relationships?

An unhealthy relationship is like a slow poison. It doesn't hit you all at once. Instead, it seeps in and slowly messes with your head, making you forget who you are. It twists your whole idea of what love is supposed to feel like. At their core, these relationships are all about control, mind games, and emotional rollercoasters. One minute they’re amazing, the next they’re gone. Hot and cold. It’s this crazy back-and-forth that keeps you hooked.

You're not staying out of love; you're staying out of confusion. The hardest part? They almost always start out great. That’s the trap. They’re charming. They pay attention to you. You feel seen. But then, little by little, things change. The "concern" starts to sound a lot like criticism. The "love" feels more like a guilt trip. "Care" turns into control. And that safe, warm feeling you had at the beginning? It's gone.

So why do people stay? It's not because they’re stupid or they can't see the problem. It's because leaving feels impossible. If you're the kind of person who always tries to fix things, you'll keep trying. You think, "If I just love them more," or "If I just change this one thing about me, it'll get better." Your self-worth gets all tangled up in making them happy. Or maybe you stay because it just feels safer than leaving.

Walking away means facing a bunch of scary emotions, and it just feels easier to stick with the pain you know. It stops being about love and starts being about just getting through the day. The worst part about these relationships is what they do to your sense of self. You get criticized so much, you start to doubt everything. You second-guess your own feelings, your own memories. You constantly find yourself thinking, "Am I overreacting? Am I the crazy one?" That's a nasty mind game called gaslighting. It’s when they make you feel like you can't trust your own gut. After a while, you don't. You start to rely on them to tell you what's real. That's how they keep you stuck. It’s not just in your head; it’s in your body. You feel like you're always "walking on eggshells."

You learn to read every little look, every change in their tone, just trying to stop the next fight before it even starts. Living like that is exhausting. You'll get headaches, you won't be able to sleep, you'll feel jumpy all the time. Your body is living in a constant state of high alert, like it's in danger. Because, emotionally, it is. And it's not always big, loud fights. Sometimes toxicity is quiet. It's the constant sarcasm that stings. It's feeling totally alone even when they're right next to you. It's the guilt trips or just the complete lack of empathy. Sometimes, it's just two broken people hurting each other without meaning to. But the end result is the same: you feel drained, not safe. Real love should make you feel grounded.

It should make your world bigger, not smaller. This kind of "love" is just a test you can never seem to pass. If you already have that little voice in your head that says, "I'm not good enough," a toxic relationship will scream it at you. When people just say, "Just leave," they don't get it. It's not that simple. You're tied to them. Leaving can feel like withdrawal. The new quiet feels empty. You might even miss them, which is the most confusing part of all. That's normal. Your brain just got used to the chaos. Healing means you have to be kind to yourself. You can't beat yourself up for staying too long. You stayed because you were trying, because you were hopeful. That's not a weakness. Healing also means learning to set boundaries. This is the hard part.

A boundary is just you saying, "This is what I will and won't accept." It feels selfish at first, especially when you're used to giving every part of yourself away. But it's not selfish. It's self-respect. When you finally get out, peace will feel... weird. Calm will feel boring. Your body has to re-learn what "safe" feels like. Breaking free isn't about hating them. It's about finally choosing yourself. It's about realizing that love shouldn't hurt this much. Healthy love isn't a rollercoaster. It's consistent. It's calm. It's kind. It doesn't drain you; it fills you up. You'll carry the scars, sure. But you'll also carry the wisdom. And you'll learn to choose peace over chaos, every single time.