Why leaving a relationship is hard

Challenging relationships reflect our complex emotional wiring. The way forward requires understanding and empathy rather than judgment.

Anyone who has struggled with a romantic relationship has wondered whether to stay or leave, only to discover that leaving is far more complicated than the "just dump him/her" advice that floods our social media feeds.

Relationships can be messy, complicated and often follow patterns of conflict and reconciliation. Couples who come to therapy often think they're 'broken' because they fight. But healthy relationships aren't about avoiding conflict - they're about learning from the things we struggle with and being able to repair. Like those Japanese artists who repair broken pottery with gold (kintsugi), sometimes the process of fixing what's broken creates something more meaningful than what was there before. Research (Gottman) has shown that long-lasting couples have learned to become each other's sparring partners and are not conflict-avoidant.

Here’s why leaving can sometimes feel impossibly hard. I've seen countless people in my practice who feel trapped in relationships that aren't toxic but aren't fulfilling. They beat themselves up for being dependent, or label themselves as ‘weak’ for not being able to 'just leave'; but here's the truth: fear of loneliness, judgement from others and uncertainty about the future are all valid concerns. These fears shouldn't be met with shame, but with understanding.

What makes this even more complicated is that our reasons for staying with someone often operate below the surface of conscious thought. It's as if we're in an emotionally arranged marriage with ourselves - parts of us made decisions about love and commitment long before we could think about them rationally. This is why 'just walking away' isn't always as easy as it sounds.

Many of us developed patterns early in life to keep ourselves safe and loved. If you grew up with unpredictable parents, you may have learned to become extremely attuned to other people's emotions, always trying to keep the peace. If you grew up with emotional distance, you may have learned to shut down your own needs. These weren't wrong strategies - they helped you survive as defense mechanisms. But as adults, we may need different tools.

When relationships need to end, one of the worse things we can do is disappear without explanation. I've seen this leave people in a painful limbo, unable to process what has happened or move on. Clear, kind communication about why you're leaving isn't just respectful—it's healing for both people involved.

And yes, ending a serious relationship often feels like grief, because in many ways it's a small death - the death of an imagined future, of daily routines, of shared dreams, of happy memories. Creating space to mourn this loss isn't self-indulgent; it's necessary. You wouldn't expect yourself to bounce back immediately after the loss of a loved one, so why expect it after the loss of a significant relationship?

Finally, here's something I wish more people understood: Not every relationship is meant to last forever, and that's OK. Some relationships come into our lives to teach us, to help us grow, to prepare us for what's next. Recognizing that a relationship has served its purpose or has outlived a stage in our lives doesn't make it a failure - it makes it complete. Your struggle is not a sign of weakness—it's a sign that you are human, capable of deep connection and complex emotion.