Soul Connection or Trauma Bond? Understanding Intense Relationships

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Some relationships are difficult to explain. The attraction can feel unusually powerful, the connection profound, and the emotional pull difficult to understand. Even when a relationship becomes painful, confusing or destructive, letting go may feel almost impossible. When we find ourselves in this kind of psychological darkness, we naturally look for an explanation. We want to understand why this person affects us so deeply, why we keep returning, and why the relationship can feel so difficult to leave.

For some people, the explanation may be found in the language of soul connection, karma or destiny. For others, it may be love, loyalty or the belief that the relationship has a deeper purpose. These ideas can provide meaning when an experience feels confusing or painful. But there is another question worth asking: could some of what feels like an extraordinary connection also be produced by the relationship pattern itself? This is where psychology can offer another lens through which to understand intense relationships.

What do we mean by a soul connection?

The word soul can mean different things to different people. For many, it describes their deepest inner experience: the part of themselves they experience as most authentic, intuitive, private or profoundly connected to life and to other people.  Someone may therefore describe a relationship as a soul connection because it reaches somewhere deep within them. The experience may feel unlike anything they have known before. We don’t necessarily have to decide whether that experience is spiritual, psychological or both. What matters is recognising that a profound inner experience is real as an experience. But there is an important distinction: A profound inner experience does not necessarily mean that the relationship producing it is right for us. Nor does feeling deeply connected to someone necessarily mean that they are the one.

We can confuse the depth of our experience with the health of the relationship. A relationship can feel extraordinary and still be unhealthy. It can be deeply meaningful and still not be sustainable.

When intensity becomes evidence

Imagine a relationship in which there is extraordinary attraction and closeness, followed by conflict, withdrawal or uncertainty. Separation creates anxiety, while reconnection brings enormous relief. The relationship may move between intense intimacy and painful disconnection. Because the feelings are so powerful, we may conclude that the relationship itself must therefore be extraordinary.

But what if the intensity is partly being produced by the pattern? This is one of the questions raised by the psychological concept of trauma bonding.

A trauma bond is not simply an intense relationship, nor does every difficult relationship involve one. Trauma bonding can develop in relationships characterised by cycles of harm and intermittent reward, particularly where there is a significant imbalance of power or control.

The cycle may look something like this: connection › rupture › anxiety › uncertainty › reconciliation › relief › renewed connection.

The periods of affection or closeness can become especially powerful because they interrupt the distress. We may find ourselves becoming attached not only to the person, but to the relief we experience when the relationship feels secure again. This can create a powerful emotional loop. And this is where the question becomes important: Could the intensity itself be partly produced by the relationship pattern?

It doesn’t invalidate the feelings. It gives us another way of understanding them.

When we are searching for meaning

When we are psychologically in the dark, we naturally reach for explanations. A soul connection can provide one. So can the idea of a soul connection, karma or destiny. Perhaps this person was meant to enter our life. Perhaps there is something we are supposed to learn from the relationship. Perhaps the difficulty has a deeper purpose. These beliefs are meaningful to the person holding them. The psychological question isn’t to remove that meaning but to explore the underlying issue.

Has the meaning we attach to a connection begun to prevent us from seeing what is happening in front of us?

A relationship can have meaning without being healthy. A relationship can teach us something without requiring us to remain in it. A relationship can be deeply significant without being destined to continue. Sometimes we can become so focused on what a relationship is meant to represent that we lose sight of what it is actually doing to us.

When meaning becomes obligation

This can be particularly important when we believe that a difficult relationship is something we are supposed to work through. We might unconsciously interpret repeated difficulties as evidence that there is still a lesson to learn. Perhaps the relationship is challenging us for a reason. Perhaps we haven’t yet understood what we came here to learn. Perhaps leaving would mean abandoning something that was meant to be completed. But there is another possibility.

Perhaps the difficulty itself is information.

Instead of asking only what the relationship is trying to teach us, we can ask what the relationship is showing us. How do I feel within this relationship? What happens to my sense of self? Am I becoming more myself or less myself? Am I able to express my needs and boundaries? Am I staying because I freely choose to be here, or because leaving feels impossible?

These questions don’t dismiss the meaning we have given to the relationship. They introduce something equally important: agency.

When relationships become behaviour patterns

Intense relationships can also develop recurring patterns in which both people become caught in familiar roles. Karpman’s Drama Triangle describes three common positions: Persecutor, Victim and Rescuer. These are not fixed identities, and people can move between them, sometimes within the same relationship.

The Persecutor may justify controlling, critical or harmful behaviour as a way of helping the other person grow. Difficult behaviour can become reframed as teaching, strengthening or correcting.

The Victim may begin to see suffering as something inevitable, deserved or destined. The relationship becomes something to endure or something from which a lesson must eventually be learned.

The Rescuer may feel responsible for saving, healing or protecting the other person. They may understand the other person’s wounds so deeply that they begin to excuse behaviour that is hurting them.

The desire to rescue can be particularly complicated because compassion may be genuine. Yet continually taking responsibility for another person’s wellbeing can subtly undermine both people’s agency. The person being rescued may come to be seen as incapable of managing without help, while the rescuer may derive an unconscious sense of worth from being needed.

These patterns can keep a difficult relationship going even when both people are unhappy. Understanding the pattern does not mean blaming either person. It gives us another small opening through which to see what is happening.

Understanding isn’t the same as excusing

We can understand someone’s childhood, attachment style, trauma, insecurity or emotional wounds. We can recognise why they behave as they do. But understanding does not require us to accept the impact of their behaviour. Likewise, recognising that someone has been hurt does not make us responsible for healing them. Compassion allows another person to have responsibility for their own growth. Rescuing can take that responsibility away from them while gradually asking us to carry more than is ours to carry. Sometimes what looks like devotion is actually self-abandonment. Sometimes what looks like loyalty is fear. And sometimes what looks like an unbreakable connection is a relationship pattern that has become very difficult to step outside.

How counselling can help

In counselling, we can explore these patterns without dismissing the meaning a relationship holds for you. My approach draws on talking therapy, attachment, CBT and psychodynamic perspectives to help you understand the beliefs, emotional responses and relationship patterns that may be keeping you stuck. The aim is not to tell you what your relationship means or what decision you should make, but to create enough space to recognise what you are experiencing, reconnect with your own perspective and make choices from a stronger sense of self.

Finding a pinprick of light

Perhaps we don’t always need to decide whether a connection is spiritual or psychological. We can honour the depth of what we have experienced while also examining the relationship honestly. A connection can be profound and still be unhealthy. It can change us without being meant to last. It can teach us something without being our destiny. The question may therefore be less about whether someone is our soul connection and more about what the connection is doing to us.

If we put aside, just for a moment, what the relationship is supposed to mean, what can we see about what is actually happening?

This is where psychological awareness can offer a small pinprick of light in the darkness. Not necessarily an answer, and not someone else telling us what we should do, but enough light to see that we have choices. We can begin to distinguish intensity from intimacy, meaning from obligation, understanding from excusing, and connection from compatibility.

And perhaps the deepest question is not Why was I drawn to this person?

but: What am I free to choose now?

The above article reminds me of a poem I wrote a few years ago:

Poems like prayers slip through the cracks that hide my shadows;

Had I not learned to pray on the cold, hard tiles of mercy,

you would find me on the other side of darkness,

desperately trying to punch stars into the sky.

Collette O’ Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

Why Do We Sometimes Know What We Want — But Still Can’t Choose It?

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There are times in life when we seem to know exactly what we want, yet somehow cannot bring ourselves to choose it. We may know that a relationship is no longer right for us, yet find reasons to stay. We may want to change direction in our career, but continually postpone taking the necessary steps. We may long for greater independence, yet become anxious when faced with making decisions alone. We may want to be more confident, but repeatedly seek reassurance from others. Sometimes we describe these patterns as self-sabotage.

But what if the behaviour that appears to be working against us is actually trying to protect us from something? This doesn’t mean that self-sabotaging behaviour is helpful, or that we are not responsible for our choices. Rather, understanding what lies beneath the behaviour can help us move from self-criticism towards greater self-awareness and ultimately, greater choice.

Wanting Something and Feeling Safe Enough to Choose It

We tend to think of desire as straightforward: I want this; therefore, I should be able to choose it. Psychologically, it is rarely that simple. We can genuinely want something while another part of us fears what achieving it might mean. We may want intimacy but fear vulnerability. We may want success but fear the expectations that could come with it. We may want independence but fear being alone. We may want change but feel safer with what is familiar. This creates an internal conflict between two legitimate needs. One part of us says: This is what I want. Another may quietly respond: But what happens if you get it?

That second question can be surprisingly powerful. Sometimes we are not simply afraid of failure. We may be afraid of success, visibility, responsibility, uncertainty or the possibility that getting what we want will change how we see ourselves, or how others see us.

When Self-Sabotage Serves a Purpose

The term self-sabotage can make it sound as though we are deliberately working against ourselves. In reality, many patterns that appear self-defeating have a psychological function. Consider someone who repeatedly postpones applying for a job they genuinely want. On the surface, they are preventing themselves from moving forward. But underneath the procrastination may be a fear of rejection or failure. Or someone may remain in an unhappy relationship because leaving feels impossible. The conscious desire may be to leave, but staying also provides familiarity, companionship and protection from the uncertainty of starting again.

This is where the psychological concept of secondary gain can be useful. The primary consequence of a behaviour may be unwanted, while the behaviour simultaneously provides an unintended benefit. The person who procrastinates avoids moving forward, but also avoids the possibility of being judged. The person who continually seeks reassurance never fully trusts their own judgement, but they temporarily escape the discomfort of uncertainty. The person who stays in an unsatisfying situation remains unhappy, but avoids the fear of what might happen if they leave. The behaviour has a cost, but it also provides something. Often that something is relief. And relief is powerful.

The Short-Term Solution Can Become the Long-Term Problem

Many self-defeating patterns make sense when we look at what they provide in the moment. Avoiding a difficult conversation can reduce anxiety. Putting off a decision can provide temporary certainty because nothing has changed yet. Seeking reassurance can quiet self-doubt. Staying with what is familiar can protect us from the uncertainty of change. The difficulty is that what provides short-term relief can create long-term problems. We may feel calmer today but less confident tomorrow. We may avoid rejection but also avoid intimacy. We may protect ourselves from failure but also prevent ourselves from developing. We may preserve belonging by silencing ourselves, while gradually losing touch with who we are. The pattern continues because, at some level, it works. It solves an immediate emotional problem, even though it creates another one further down the road.

When Other People’s Approval Becomes More Important Than Our Own Experience

Another reason we can struggle to choose what we want is that we may have learned to look outside ourselves for confirmation. We might know what we feel, but immediately wonder will other’s think of us. We may be fearful of upsetting someone, or their disapproval.

Over time, our own internal experience can become less authoritative. This is sometimes described as an external locus of evaluation — judging ourselves and our choices primarily through the responses of other people. The difficulty is that we can become very good at understanding what everyone else needs while becoming uncertain about what we need ourselves.

Then even a clear decision can feel wrong simply because it might disappoint someone. Learning to trust our own experience does not mean ignoring other people. It means allowing our own thoughts, feelings and values to have a place in the decision.

Sometimes the Real Fear Is Who We Will Become

There is another layer to this. Change does not only alter our circumstances. It can challenge our identity. If I stop being the person who keeps everyone happy, who am I? If I stop rescuing others, what will my relationships look like? If I leave this relationship, who will I be on my own? If I stop measuring my worth through achievement, how will I know that I am enough?

Sometimes the familiar pattern is not simply familiar behaviour. It has become part of our sense of who we are. Changing it can therefore feel strangely unsettling, even when we consciously want the change.

Moving From Self-Sabotage to Self-Understanding

Recognising these patterns does not mean giving ourselves an excuse. Understanding why we behave in a particular way does not remove responsibility for what we do. Instead, it gives us an opportunity to respond differently. This begins with becoming curious about the conflict underneath the behaviour. We might start by considering what we say we want and then notice what happens inside us when we imagine actually having it. What are we afraid might change? What feeling might we be trying to avoid? What does the behaviour give us in the short term, and what is it costing us in the longer term? We might also notice whose approval we are seeking and whether we have gradually learned to give other people’s opinions more authority than our own experience. Beneath all of this is perhaps the most important question: what might I choose if I trusted myself?

These questions can reveal that what we have called self-sabotage may actually be an old form of self-protection, one that may once have been necessary, but is no longer serving us in the same way.

Choosing From the Present Rather Than the Past

Ultimately, psychological growth is not about eliminating every fear before we act. There may always be uncertainty. There may always be competing needs. We may never feel completely ready to make an important choice. But self-awareness gives us something valuable: the ability to pause between an old pattern and a new response.

We can recognise the part of us that wants safety without allowing it to make every decision. Sometimes the way forward is not to fight the part of ourselves that seems to be holding us back, but to understand what it has been trying to protect. Because when we understand the conflict beneath our behaviour, we gain something that self-criticism cannot provide: choice.

If you recognise recurring patterns in your relationships and would like to understand them more deeply, I offer online psychotherapeutic counselling for relationship difficulties, attachment patterns and emotional wellbeing.

Collette O’ Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

When Fear Looks Like Jealousy: Understanding Trust, Insecurity and Attachment

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Jealousy can be one of the most difficult emotions to navigate in an intimate relationship. It can appear as questioning, checking, comparing, withdrawing, accusing or needing constant reassurance. Sometimes it follows a genuine breach of trust, such as infidelity. At other times, it seems to appear without any obvious cause.

But jealousy is rarely just about the person or situation in front of us. Often, it is connected to something deeper: our experience of trust, attachment, self-esteem and what we have learned to expect from relationships. The challenge is knowing when jealousy is telling us something important about the relationship, and when fear is filling in the gaps.

When the past enters the present

Imagine someone has discovered that a previous partner was unfaithful. Even after leaving that relationship, their nervous system may remain alert to the possibility of betrayal. A partner taking longer to reply, becoming more private with their phone or appearing particularly interested in someone else may activate an immediate sense that something is wrong. This can lead to hypervigilance.

The person begins looking for signs of danger, often without consciously choosing to do so. They may check messages, ask repeated questions or seek reassurance. For a short while, reassurance brings relief. But because the underlying fear has not been resolved, the vigilance returns.

A cycle can develop: Past betrayal → heightened vigilance → ambiguous behaviour → threat interpretation → anxiety → checking or questioning → temporary reassurance → renewed vigilance

The person may believe they are simply being careful. Underneath the behaviour, however, there may be a deeper fear that they do not want to be hurt like that again.

Attachment and the fear of being left

Our early experiences of relationships can also influence how we respond to uncertainty in adult relationships. Someone with an anxious attachment pattern may be particularly sensitive to changes in closeness. A delayed message, a partner becoming distracted or a perceived change in affection can trigger questions such as:

Are they losing interest? Have I done something wrong? Is there someone else?

The intensity of the response may seem disproportionate to the immediate situation because the present moment has activated something older. At the heart of the reaction may not actually be jealousy. It may be a fear of rejection, abandonment or not being enough. This is where jealousy can become an expression of insecurity.

When low self-esteem becomes an accusation

Low self-esteem can be particularly complicated within relationships. Instead of recognising our vulnerabilities, or low expectations for the relationship, the fear can become directed towards our partner: Why were you talking to her? You obviously fancy him. Why did you like their social media post?

An internal fear has become an external accusation. This does not mean that every jealous person has low self-esteem, nor does it mean that concerns about a partner are necessarily irrational. It simply reminds us that sometimes what we believe we are seeing in another person is partly being shaped by what we believe about ourselves.

Prediction versus evidence

One of the most useful questions to ask when jealousy arises is: Am I responding to evidence, or am I responding to a prediction?

Our minds are constantly making predictions. If we have previously experienced betrayal or rejection, we may become particularly skilled at anticipating it happening again. But there is an important difference between what we observe and what we conclude.

Observation: My partner has been spending more time on their phone.

Interpretation: They seem more private than usual.

Prediction: They must be talking to someone else.

Conclusion: They must be having an affair.

These stages can happen almost instantaneously, particularly when we are emotionally activated. The difficulty is that the feeling of certainty can become stronger than the evidence itself. Before acting on suspicion, it can help to pause and ask what do we actually know and what are we assuming? What am I predicting and is this situation connected to something that happened in the past? What evidence supports our concern and what evidence might not fit that fear?

This does not mean dismissing intuition. It means giving ourselves enough space to understand where the intuition is coming from.

What if something really doesn’t feel right?

There is another side to this. Sometimes we become so concerned about being perceived as jealous or insecure that we can dismiss our own observations entirely. We convince ourselves that we are imagining things, or being paranoid. We tell ourselves that we shouldn’t feel that way.

Yet a genuine change in a partner’s behaviour should not automatically be explained away as insecurity. If someone becomes unusually secretive, repeatedly contradicts themselves, breaks agreed boundaries or behaves in ways that genuinely undermine trust, it is reasonable to pay attention. The aim is therefore not to tell ourselves to always trust our instincts, nor to always distrust them. Instead, we can become curious about them. We can pause and reflect that something doesn’t feel right; but we don’t yet know what it means. That small pause can make an enormous difference.

When concern is dismissed

Relationships also become difficult when one partner repeatedly raises a concern and the other simply dismisses it as an overactive imagination, or that we are too sensitive, too suspicious.

Sometimes reassurance is entirely appropriate. A partner may genuinely be experiencing the present through the lens of previous hurt. But repeated dismissal does not necessarily resolve the underlying issue. A healthy relationship needs space for both people to express uncertainty and discomfort without immediately turning the conversation into a battle over who is right.

The question becomes: Can we explore what is happening together?

There is a significant difference between an invitation to talk and an accusation, or demand for an explanation. Invitation opens a conversation. Accusation can turn fear into control.

Understanding where jealousy comes from may help us understand a behaviour, but it does not automatically justify controlling, intimidating or intrusive behaviour.

Learning to trust yourself, and your partner

Trust is not the absence of uncertainty. It is the ability to tolerate some uncertainty without immediately needing to eliminate it through checking, controlling, accusing or withdrawing. For someone who has experienced betrayal, rebuilding trust may take time. For someone whose jealousy is rooted in insecurity, developing greater self-worth and emotional regulation may be part of the work. And for couples, learning to communicate vulnerability without accusation can create a very different pattern.

Instead of wondering if our fears are well-founded, or if we can prove our fears to be misplaced, we might ask: What is happening here, and can we stay present long enough to understand it?

Jealousy is an emotion. It can contain fear, hurt, insecurity and sometimes useful information about a relationship. But an emotion is not the same as evidence. Learning to recognise the difference between what happened, what we fear, and what we have learned to expect can help us step out of the cycle of vigilance and begin to approach relationships with greater self-awareness, honesty and trust.

How counselling can help

Counselling can provide a space to look beneath jealousy and suspicion rather than simply trying to suppress the feelings themselves. Part of this work can also involve developing greater self-trust. Rather than relying entirely on a partner’s reassurance to determine whether we are safe, loved or worthy, counselling can help us develop a stronger internal point of reference. This means becoming more able to listen to our own feelings and perceptions, consider the evidence, make sense of our experiences and arrive at our own conclusions without automatically surrendering that judgement to either our fears or another person’s reassurance. If you recognise recurring patterns in your relationships and would like to understand them more deeply, I offer online psychotherapeutic counselling for relationship difficulties, attachment patterns and emotional wellbeing.

The aim is not to become completely independent of others, nor to stop caring what a partner thinks. It is to develop enough inner security to ask important relationship questions. Self- trust allows us to make clear choices based on the information we receive.

Collette O’ Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

Why Do We Resist Change? Understanding the Psychology Behind Our Resistance

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Change is an inevitable part of life, yet it is something many of us resist. We can know that something in our lives is no longer working and still find ourselves unable to change it. We may remain in a relationship that has become unhappy or unhealthy, stay in a job that is making us miserable, continue patterns of behaviour that we recognise are unhelpful, or repeatedly postpone a decision we know we need to make. Sometimes we can see clearly that change would be good for us, yet something within us holds back.

Why do we resist change? There is rarely one simple answer. Our response to change can be influenced by our early experiences, the beliefs we develop about ourselves and the world, patterns that operate outside our conscious awareness, and how much we trust ourselves to cope with whatever change might bring. Understanding where our resistance comes from can be the beginning of changing our relationship with change itself.

Our early experiences of change

As children, we have very little agency over the circumstances of our lives. Parents may separate. We may move house, change school or leave behind friends and familiar surroundings. A parent may take a new job and the whole family may move to another town, city or even country. For a child, a change that may appear practical or necessary to an adult can represent a profound disruption to their world. The people, places, routines and relationships that provide familiarity and security can suddenly change. Yet the child has little ability to influence what is happening. They have to adapt.

These experiences do not determine how we will respond to change as adults, but they can contribute to the beliefs we develop about what change means. For some, change may become associated with possibility, growth and adventure. For others, it may become associated with loss, uncertainty, disruption or having no control. Often, these associations are not conscious.

As we grow, our experiences become woven into the beliefs we hold about ourselves and the world around us. We may come to believe that change means losing something. Or we may develop very different beliefs that change can create new possibilities. These beliefs can influence us without us necessarily realising it. Two people can face almost identical circumstances and experience change very differently because of what change means to each of them.

When the unconscious influences our choices

This is where our resistance to change can become more difficult to understand. We may believe that we are simply making a conscious decision to stay where we are. But beneath that decision there may be fears, beliefs or protective patterns that we have never fully recognised. We may avoid change because it brings up feelings of uncertainty. We may become overwhelmed by the possibility of making the wrong decision. We may repeatedly seek reassurance from others because we don’t trust our own judgement. We may stay with what is familiar even when it is no longer healthy.

The pattern can become so familiar that we stop questioning it. We simply think: This is just how I am. But sometimes what feels like who we are is actually something we have learned in response to earlier experiences.

Carl Jung is often attributed with the following observation: “Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” The wording is commonly circulated as a paraphrase of Jung rather than a verified verbatim quotation, but the underlying idea is particularly relevant to our relationship with change. When we become more conscious of the beliefs and patterns influencing our choices, we create the possibility of responding differently.

When the familiar becomes safer than the healthy

This can help us understand why people sometimes remain in situations or relationships that have become toxic. From the outside, it is easy to judge the situation and think: ‘Why don’t they just leave?’

But leaving means stepping away from what is known. Even when the familiar situation is painful, it may still provide a degree of predictability. Change can bring uncertainty, grief, loneliness, financial concerns, guilt or the fear of having to face life differently. The question may therefore be less about why someone chooses something unhealthy and more about what they believe they might have to face if they leave. Sometimes we don’t resist change because we want to remain where we are. We resist because we don’t yet trust ourselves to cope with where we might end up.

Developing self-trust

This brings us to an important part of change: our relationship with ourselves. We cannot know exactly what will happen when we make a significant change. We cannot guarantee that a new relationship will work, that a new job will be better, that a difficult decision will have the outcome we hoped for, or that we will never experience regret. If we believe we need certainty before we act, we may remain stuck for a very long time. Self-trust offers another possibility. It is not the belief that everything will work out exactly as we want. It is the belief that whatever happens, we will find a way to meet it.

This is a very different kind of confidence. Instead of needing to trust the outcome, we begin to trust ourselves. We can acknowledge that something may be difficult without assuming that we will be unable to cope with it. We can recognise that we may feel afraid without allowing fear to make every decision for us. We can accept that we don’t have all the answers and still take the next step.

From resistance to awareness

Change often begins before we actually change anything. It can begin with noticing. Noticing the thought that keeps returning, the situation we repeatedly tolerate. Noticing the decision we continually postpone or the fear that appears whenever we consider doing something differently. We also begin to notice the voice that tells us that change is too risky, that we will regret our choices. It says, keep the status quo, things aren’t so bad. It’s all in our head. Rather than immediately arguing with these thoughts, we can become curious about them. Awareness creates space. Within that space, something important can happen. We can begin to distinguish between an old protective response and what we actually want in the present.

Rediscovering agency

As children, change may have happened to us. As adults, we have choices that we did not have then. We can pause, ask questions and seek support. We can establish boundaries. We can change direction. We can make mistakes and learn from them. We can decide what is right for us. This does not mean that adult change is always easy. Sometimes our circumstances genuinely limit our choices, and some changes involve profound loss or consequences that cannot simply be avoided. But recognising our agency can change our relationship with change. Instead of seeing ourselves as someone to whom life simply happens, we can begin to recognise ourselves as someone who can participate in shaping what happens next.

Allowing change rather than forcing it

Perhaps the most transformative shift is moving from forcing ourselves to change to allowing ourselves to change. Allowing change does not mean being passive. It means allowing ourselves to acknowledge what we feel rather than immediately pushing it away. It is allowing ourselves to grieve what we may be leaving behind. Allowing uncertainty to exist without demanding that we have every answer. Allowing ourselves to recognise that something no longer fits. And allowing the possibility that the future does not have to look like the past.

Sometimes change begins with a very small shift: I don’t have to respond in the same way I always have. That realisation can create space for a different choice. When we begin to make different choices, we can discover something that may have been difficult to believe before that we are capable of adapting. We cannot control every change that happens in our lives. We cannot prevent loss, uncertainty or unexpected events. But we can develop a different relationship with ourselves as we move through them.

The child who once had little choice over a family move is not the same person as the adult standing in front of a difficult decision today. The adult has more awareness, more experience and more choice. Change does not always need to be forced. Sometimes, transformation begins when we become conscious of what has been holding us back, reconnect with our own agency, and allow ourselves to take the next step.

If you are exploring change in your own life, my book A Compass for Change offers a further opportunity to reflect on the experiences, beliefs and patterns that can influence the way we navigate life’s transitions.

Change does not come with a map. But by becoming more aware of what shapes our choices, we can begin to develop our own inner compass — one that helps us move through uncertainty with greater self-awareness, trust and choice.

A Compass for Change explores this journey and offers reflections to help you understand yourself more deeply as you navigate change.

Collette O’ Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.

When Life Feels Like Too Much: The Pressures of Young Adulthood

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There has been growing discussion in the UK about the mental health of younger people and the pressures they are experiencing. A recent BBC report exploring these questions has brought some of this debate into the wider public conversation. Some of this discussion has been framed around the idea of a “snowflake generation”; a suggestion that younger people may be less resilient than previous generations. But perhaps there is another question worth asking: What if the issue is not simply that young people are less able to cope, but that they are trying to cope with more?

An independent review into mental health, ADHD and autism, chaired by Professor Peter Fonagy, has found evidence that psychological distress has increased particularly among younger people. The review identifies increases in emotional symptoms, loneliness, sleep difficulties, loss of confidence and difficulties concentrating. Importantly, it also emphasises that the reasons for these changes are complex and cannot be explained by one factor alone. This is something I increasingly recognise in my work with younger clients. They may be studying, starting work, building careers, developing relationships and trying to establish an independent life. From the outside, they may appear to be managing. Yet underneath, there can be a persistent sense of pressure; a feeling that they should be further ahead, coping better or somehow more certain about who they are and where they are going. Sometimes life simply feels like too much.

The pressure of becoming an adult

Young adulthood has always involved uncertainty. There has always been the transition from education into work, the development of relationships, financial independence and the gradual discovery of who we are. But these processes are taking place within a very different social environment. University students and graduates may be thinking about their future while facing uncertainty about employment and finances. Those entering the workplace may feel pressure to establish themselves quickly. Social media can provide connection while simultaneously exposing us to other people’s achievements, relationships and lifestyles. News and information are available continuously. There can be very little sense of being completely tuned out. The result can be a strange contradiction. There are more possibilities than ever, yet choosing between them can feel overwhelming. There is more information, yet knowing what to trust can feel difficult. We are constantly connected, yet many young people report feeling lonely. And there can be an increasing expectation to know what we want from life at precisely the age when we are still discovering it.

When external expectations become internal pressure

Perhaps one of the most significant psychological effects of living within this environment is what happens when external expectations become internal ones. A young person may hear messages about success, independence, productivity and achievement from many different directions. Over time, these messages can become an internal voice: I should be doing more. I should have a better job by now. I should know what I want. Everyone else seems to be managing. I should be happier. I shouldn’t find this so difficult.

What began as an expectation from outside can gradually become something we expect from ourselves. This can be particularly difficult when self-worth becomes connected to performance. Not getting the job becomes I am not good enough. Struggling at university becomes I am failing.

Needing time away from work becomes I am lazy. Not knowing what career to pursue becomes I am falling behind. The difficulty is no longer simply the situation itself. It becomes what the situation appears to say about us.

The comparison we cannot switch off

Social media is often identified as one of the pressures affecting younger people, and it is important not to oversimplify this. Social media can provide friendship, community, creativity and support. But it can also create an environment in which we are continually exposed to other people’s lives. We see the promotion, not the uncertainty before it. The relationship, not necessarily the difficulties within it. The achievement, not the years of effort behind it. The finished product, not the unfinished process.

Comparison can therefore become psychologically complicated. We may compare our everyday reality with somebody else’s carefully selected moments. And when we are already uncertain about ourselves, another person’s apparent success can become evidence of our own inadequacy.

When coping becomes another expectation

There is another pressure that is perhaps less obvious. We are increasingly encouraged to be resilient, practise self-care, regulate our emotions and develop healthy coping strategies. These are valuable things. But what happens when coping itself becomes another measure of whether we are doing well?

A person may already be exhausted by work, study, financial worries or relationship difficulties. They may then become anxious because they are not coping with those difficulties in the “right” way. They are not simply struggling. They feel that they are failing at struggling well. This can create another layer of self-criticism. Why can’t I manage this? What is wrong with me?

In therapy, this distinction can be important. The question is not simply, “How can I cope better?” Sometimes it is also: “What have I actually been trying to cope with?”

Loss of psychological space

One of the things we can lose when life becomes demanding is psychological space. There is a difference between being physically alone and having enough internal space to notice what we think and feel. If the day moves from university or work to messages, social media, responsibilities, social expectations and the pressure to make decisions about the future, there may be very little opportunity simply to stop. Without that space, it can become difficult to distinguish between our own wishes and the expectations we have absorbed from other people.

We may know what we should want. But do we know what we actually want? We may know what would look successful. But does it feel meaningful to us?

We may be pursuing a particular future because it is what we have learned to associate with being successful, secure or valued. And sometimes therapy provides the first real opportunity to step back from all of that and ask: What is mine?

Resilience is not equal to suffering in silence

There is an understandable desire to encourage young people to become resilient. But resilience should not mean becoming endlessly capable of carrying pressure without being affected by it. Sometimes resilience involves recognising that something is not working. Sometimes it means asking for help. Sometimes it means setting a boundary. Sometimes it means accepting that we do not yet know what comes next. And sometimes it means questioning an expectation rather than automatically trying harder to meet it. This is not about removing personal responsibility. In fact, greater self-awareness can increase our sense of responsibility because it allows us to make more conscious choices. The important distinction is between choosing our direction and simply responding to everything that is being asked of us.

Which expectations genuinely belong to me?

Growing into adulthood is not a test that we are supposed to pass by a particular age. It is a process of becoming. There will be uncertainty, mistakes, changes of direction and periods when we feel that we are not where we thought we would be. That does not necessarily mean we are failing. Psychotherapy can offer a space to explore the difference between the expectations we have inherited and the values we genuinely hold; between the voice of the inner critic and our own perspective; between what we think we should be and who we are actually becoming. Perhaps the most useful question is therefore not: Why can’t I cope with everything? But: Which of these expectations genuinely belong to me?

Because sometimes life feels like too much not because there is something wrong with us, but because we have become so accustomed to carrying expectations that we have stopped asking whether they were ever ours to carry.

If life is feeling like too much

If you recognise something of yourself in this article, you do not have to wait until things become overwhelming before seeking support. Talking with a therapist can provide a quiet, confidential space to step back from the pressures around you, understand what is happening beneath them, and begin to work out what genuinely matters to you. Therapy is not about telling you what choices to make. It can offer a space to become clearer about your own thoughts, feelings, needs and values, so that you can begin to make those choices for yourself.

Collette O Mahony is a Psychotherapeutic Counsellor in private practice, working with clients online. She writes regularly on mental health and emotional wellbeing, with a focus on self-discovery, developing self-awareness, and supporting individuals to take meaningful responsibility for their inner lives.