One of the most complicated things about being human is that there can sometimes be a painful gap between who we believe we are, who we want to be, and how we actually show up in the world. Most of us want to see ourselves as good people. We want to be supportive, dependable, loving, and capable of being there for the people we care about. These intentions often come from a genuine place of love.
But intentions and capacity are not always the same thing.
Sometimes there is a space between the person we want to be and the person we currently have the capacity to be. That does not automatically mean someone does not care. It does not always mean someone is being dishonest. Sometimes it means there is difficult work still to be done: developing self-awareness, understanding our limitations, building emotional resilience, and learning to be honest about what we can realistically offer.
The difficulty is that this gap can have a significant impact on relationships.
When someone’s words and actions repeatedly do not align, trust can slowly begin to change. Often, it is not one single disappointment that creates the rupture. It is the accumulation of moments where someone says they will show up, someone believes them, and then reality feels different.
The hurt is not simply about a promise being broken. The deeper wound can be the uncertainty that follows.
Relationships are built on trust, and trust is built through consistency.
This is something I have reflected on both personally and professionally. Like many people, my understanding of relationships has been shaped by my own experiences, and I have had to sit with the painful reality of what happens when someone’s intentions and their ability to follow through do not align. For a long time, I think I interpreted those experiences personally. I wondered whether I was asking for too much, whether I was too needy, or whether someone’s inability to show up meant something about my own worth.
Over time, through reflection and my own therapeutic work, I have come to understand something different: sometimes another person’s inability to meet us where we are is not a reflection of our value. Sometimes it is connected to their own relationship with themselves, their own fears, their own experiences, and their own unfinished work. This does not erase the hurt. It does not mean we ignore the impact someone has had on us.
It simply allows us to hold a more complicated truth: someone can have good intentions and still cause pain. Someone can love us and still struggle to show up in the way we need. One of the things I often explore in therapy is the difference between the person we are and the person we want to become. There is often a gap between those two things. I sometimes refer to this as the messy middle: the uncomfortable space between where we are currently standing and where we hope to be.
The messy middle is where the real work happens.
It is where we have to look honestly at ourselves, our patterns, our fears, our limitations, and the parts of ourselves we might prefer not to acknowledge. It is not an easy place to sit in, which is why I think many people try to skip over it.
We want to move straight from “this is who I have been” to “this is who I want to be.”
But there is a step in between.
The work.
Carl Rogers, one of the founders of person-centred therapy, wrote about the importance of congruence: the alignment between our internal experience and the way we present ourselves to the world. One of his most well-known ideas was that genuine change begins when we can accept ourselves honestly rather than constantly trying to convince ourselves we are already somewhere we are not.
I think this applies deeply to relationships. We cannot grow into a more authentic version of ourselves if we refuse to acknowledge where we currently are. Sometimes people are not avoiding change because they do not want to be better. Sometimes they are avoiding it because accepting where they are would mean facing something painful about themselves. This is where humility becomes important. When I talk about ego, I do not mean arrogance. I mean the part of ourselves that protects the story we have created about who we are.
The story that says:
Those qualities are not negative. Wanting to be a good person and wanting to support others are beautiful parts of being human. But there is a difficult question we sometimes have to ask ourselves:
Am I actually living as the person I believe myself to be, or am I holding onto an identity I have not yet built the foundations for? Because becoming someone trustworthy requires more than wanting to be trustworthy. The kindest thing we can do for someone is not to make a promise that we cannot keep, and it requires honesty to say, “I can’t do that.” “I care about you, but I need to be realistic about what I can provide for you.”
Research into attachment, trauma, and relationships has shown us that our past experiences can influence how we understand ourselves and others. Our experiences do not define us, but they can shape the beliefs we carry about love, safety, responsibility, and connection. Researchers such as John Bowlby explored how early attachment experiences influence our expectations of relationships. Bessel van der Kolk has explored how trauma can affect emotional regulation, the body, and our ability to feel safe. These perspectives remind us that human behaviour rarely exists in isolation.
However, understanding why someone behaves a certain way does not mean removing accountability. This is something I believe strongly as a therapist: compassion and accountability can exist together.
Although someone may have experienced difficult things, they are still responsible for the impact they have on those around them. There can be wounds and still be harm that needs to be repaired. There can be understanding and still be a need for change in someone. Growth often begins when we stop protecting the idealised version of ourselves and start honestly meeting ourselves where we are. Because the moment we can say, “This is where I am right now,” we create the possibility of asking, “Where do I want to go next?” That is where change begins. Not by pretending we are already healed. Not by convincing ourselves we are already the person we want others to see. But by having the courage to walk through the messy middle.
The older I get, the more I understand that sometimes another person’s inability to show up is not about our worth. Sometimes it reflects their own relationship with themselves and their ability to recognise their limits. That realisation does not remove the pain.
In other words, it doesn’t mean we have to accept disappointment. Our understanding of someone’s reasons does not mean we abandon our own needs. By doing so, we can hold a more compassionate truth. We can understand someone and still have boundaries at the same time. It is possible to love someone and acknowledge that they have hurt us at the same time. We can recognise someone’s struggles without losing ourselves in the process.
Perhaps one of the greatest acts of honesty we can offer ourselves and the people around us is to stop promising from the person we hope to become and start showing up as the person we actually are.
Because trust is not built by who we say we will be.
Trust is built by who we consistently choose to be.
Bowlby, J. (1969). Attachment and Loss: Volume 1: Attachment.
Rogers, C. (1961). On Becoming a Person: A Therapist’s View of Psychotherapy.
Yalom, I. D. (1980). Existential Psychotherapy.
van der Kolk, B. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score.
