There are relationships that do not destroy with one dramatic explosion, but slowly, almost invisibly. From the outside, they can seem completely ordinary for a long time. There is not always a major scandal, and there is not always one clear moment when a person can say, this is where it began. More often, they simply start to notice that they are explaining themselves more and more, doubting themselves more and more often, and feeling less and less free, calm, or fully themselves in the presence of the other person.
Many people name such relationships too late. Not because they are weak, naive, or blind, but because a destructive dynamic rarely begins in a way that is immediately recognizable. Very often, it is the opposite. In the beginning there may be attention, intensity, a sense of being special, a closeness the person may have longed for for a very long time. That is exactly why it becomes so difficult, later on, to admit that what once felt deeply attractive has gradually turned into something constricting, unsettling, and draining.
The label matters less than what is happening to you
That is why it is important to say one thing clearly from the beginning: not every difficult person is narcissistic, and not every selfish, controlling, or manipulative behavior comes from a personality disorder. What can be recognized much more clearly, however, is the destructive relational pattern itself. That dynamic in which, somehow, everything ends up revolving around the other person, while you slowly become smaller in the process.
Not necessarily all at once. More often, little by little. At first, you simply adjust a bit more. Then you stay quiet a bit more. Later, you catch yourself avoiding certain things, trying to prevent certain reactions in advance, and almost without noticing it, you gradually lose your own inner sense of direction.
One of the hardest things about this kind of relationship is that, from the outside, it is often difficult to explain what exactly is wrong. More often, there are recurring patterns. Situations in which the other person somehow turns things around so that, in the end, you are the one who feels too sensitive, too complicated, too much. Conversations after which you do not see more clearly, but feel even more confused. Periods in which you receive closeness and uncertainty, attention and devaluation, promises and withdrawal, all at once.
Why is it so hard to get out?
From the outside, people often only ask: why don’t you leave, why do you stay, how can you put up with this for so long? From the inside, however, things are much more complex. Because most people do not fall in love with something that is obviously bad from the beginning. They fall in love with something that first gives a great deal, and only later begins to hurt. And even once it does hurt, it is not only pain that remains. There is hope, too. There are better periods. There are moments when the other person becomes kind again, attentive again, seemingly close again. And those moments can be powerful enough to make someone believe, again and again, maybe now it will be different.
Many people stay because, over time, they lose part of their own sense of reality. They no longer trust what they feel in the same way. They can no longer judge so clearly what actually happened in a given situation. They are no longer sure whether they even have a right to what they feel. This inner uncertainty is one of the most painful parts of the whole experience.
How can you start moving out of it?
The first step is not always to leave immediately, cut everything off at once, or suddenly have an answer to every question. Very often, the first step is quieter than that, but just as important: to begin naming clearly what you are living through. To take seriously the fact that there is a reason for the constant tension, fear, or unease you feel in that relationship. To notice that the problem is not just a few bad days, but a recurring dynamic.
Another important step is not to begin by trying to convince the other person. Someone who is still hoping often believes that if they say it more gently, more clearly, more precisely, the other person will finally understand the effect they are having. In a destructive dynamic, however, that is very often not where change begins. First, you need to reconnect with your own perception.
It also matters enormously to have someone from the outside who can see more clearly what you are going through. A friend, a family member, a professional, anyone who is not part of the dynamic itself. One of the great powers of a destructive relationship is isolation: after a while, you begin to see yourself almost exclusively through the other person’s reflection.
Boundaries are part of this process as well, but here too it helps to stay realistic. Not everyone is able to draw big, dramatic boundaries right away. Sometimes the very first boundary is simply not over-explaining anymore. Not responding immediately. Writing down for yourself what actually happened, so that later it cannot be completely rewritten inside you. Beginning again to listen to what your body is telling you when you are near that person.
Your body stays inside this story too
And this is where the Seishin perspective can become especially important. Because destructive relationships do not only disturb thinking; they force the body into a constant state of alert. The neck hardens. The shoulders lift. The stomach tightens. The chest narrows. Sleep becomes restless. A person stays tense even when, on paper, nothing is wrong at that moment.
In Seishin, that is why I do not look only at what you think about what is happening to you, but also at what your body is already carrying from this relationship. Because getting out is not only a matter of decision. It is also a process of restoring. Of reconnecting with yourself. Of learning again what it feels like not to have to stay constantly alert, defensive, explanatory, and adaptive.
If you recognized yourself in these lines, do not conclude that this, too, is something you did wrong. It may be, on the contrary, that the time has come to take yourself seriously. To take seriously your confusion, your tension, your inner tightness, and your doubts. Because these do not always point to weakness. Sometimes they show that you have been trying for too long to survive inside something that has slowly been wearing you down all along.
And there is a way out of that. Not always quickly. Not always simply. Not always through one single decision. But very often the first step is already this: not automatically believing the other person’s version of reality anymore, but beginning to turn back toward your own.
Bágyok Károly
Seishin Grand Master
