Not because they’re evil.
Not because you’re asking for too much.
And not because you’re unlovable.
Because emotional depth requires self-awareness, reflection, vulnerability, accountability, and the willingness to really look at yourself honestly. And not everybody has done that work.
That’s been one of the hardest lessons of my adult life.
For a very long time, I think I believed that if I explained myself clearly enough, stayed patient enough, loved deeply enough, or just kept trying hard enough, certain relationships would eventually become what I needed them to be.
I held onto the fantasy that one day there would be mutual understanding. Emotional safety. Repair. Reciprocity. That eventually we’d meet in the middle.
Sometimes that happened in small ways.
Sometimes it didn’t happen at all.
And learning to accept that has brought both grief and relief crashing into each other at the same time.
One of the hardest parts of healing isn’t grieving who someone was.
It’s grieving who you hoped they could become.
I think a lot of us carry invisible fantasies about relationships, especially family relationships. We hold onto the idea that one day things will click into place. One day, they’ll understand. One day, they’ll see us properly. One day, they’ll meet us emotionally in the way we’ve always needed.
And sometimes people really do grow.
But sometimes they don’t.
Sometimes people stay limited by their own wounds, fear, shame, avoidance, nervous system, coping strategies, or lack of self-awareness.
That doesn’t necessarily make them bad people.
But it can still hurt like hell.
And there is something strangely freeing about finally seeing people clearly instead of constantly trying to rescue the relationship from reality.
Recently, the phrase “Let Them” has become really popular online, largely through Mel Robbins.
And while I think the phrase is genuinely helpful, I also think the psychology underneath it is much deeper than social media sometimes makes it sound.
Because underneath “Let Them” is:
• radical acceptance
• attachment theory
• boundaries
• grief
• nervous system regulation
• stoicism
• differentiation
At its healthiest, “Let Them” doesn’t mean:
“Stop caring.”
It means:
“I cannot force emotional capacity into another human being.”
That’s very different.
Because a lot of people, especially people pleasers, caretakers, and deeply empathetic people, spend years trying to emotionally manage everyone around them.
Trying to explain better.
Trying to soothe better.
Trying to fix better.
Trying to keep the peace.
Trying to finally earn the relationship they needed.
But healing often begins when we stop trying to force growth that somebody else has not chosen for themselves.
Something really interesting happens when you grow up, move away, build your own life, and then come back into old family spaces again.
You start seeing the dynamics much more clearly because you’re no longer in the middle of the storm all the time.
You notice the role you had in the family.
The peacemaker.
The emotional support system.
The scapegoat.
The people pleaser.
The one who stayed quiet.
The one who managed everyone else’s emotions.
When you’re a child, those dynamics just feel normal because it’s all you know.
But when you step away long enough, you suddenly realise how quickly your nervous system can slip back into old emotional patterns around familiar people.
Sometimes all it takes is a tone of voice.
A look.
A criticism.
A feeling of not being heard.
And suddenly, part of you feels very small again.
Not because you actually are small.
But because your nervous system remembers.
That’s why inner child work can be so powerful.
I think people misunderstand inner child work sometimes.
It’s not about sitting around blaming your parents forever.
It’s about recognising when the present moment is activating something old inside of you.
So now, when I get emotionally activated in certain dynamics, I pause and ask myself:
“What does this moment remind me of?”
And usually the answer has very little to do with the present moment alone.
That awareness changes everything.
Because instead of collapsing fully into the child version of myself, I can comfort that part whilst still responding as an adult.
Sometimes that means reminding myself:
“You are safe now.”
“You are allowed to leave.”
“You do not need to earn your worth here.”
“You are not trapped anymore.”
And honestly, that has changed my relationships more than anything else ever has.
Because I’m no longer only reacting from the wound.
This part matters.
Acceptance does not mean:
• approving of harmful behaviour
• tolerating disrespect
• abandoning boundaries
• pretending everything is okay
Acceptance means seeing reality clearly instead of exhausting yourself fighting what is.
And weirdly, there can be a lot of peace in that.
Because once you stop trying to force impossible emotional outcomes, you can finally start protecting your own energy instead of constantly trying to rescue everyone else’s.
You can meet people where they actually are instead of where you desperately wish they were.
That doesn’t mean lowering your standards or abandoning yourself.
It just means accepting reality before deciding what to do with it.
“What am I hoping this person will eventually become?”
Sometimes our suffering comes less from who somebody actually is and more from the fantasy we’re still attached to.
Pause and ask:
• What am I feeling right now?
• What does this moment remind me of?
• Is this about the present moment, or something older being activated in me?
• What does my nervous system need right now?
Try:
• wiggling your toes in your shoes
• slowing your breathing
• placing a hand on your chest
• looking around the room slowly
• going for a short walk
The goal is not perfection.
The goal is helping your nervous system realise you are safe in the present moment.
You can love someone deeply and still recognise their limitations.
You can hold compassion for somebody without abandoning yourself.
And sometimes real healing begins when we stop waiting for other people to become emotionally different before finally allowing ourselves peace.
