
Why Do I Keep Attracting Toxic Relationships? Understanding the Patterns That Keep Us Stuck
, by Shawni McDonald , 18 min reading time

, by Shawni McDonald , 18 min reading time
Wondering why you keep ending up in unhealthy relationships? Learn how emotional patterns, self-trust, attachment, people-pleasing, and familiar relationship dynamics may influence who we choose, and discover practical, psychology-informed steps toward healthier relationships and lasting emotional healing.
Have you ever looked back at your relationships and thought:
Why does this keep happening to me?
Different person.
Different face.
Different beginning.
But somehow, somewhere along the way, you find yourself feeling the same way again.
Confused.
Emotionally exhausted.
Overthinking everything.
Questioning yourself.
Trying harder.
Giving more.
Waiting for the person you met in the beginning to come back.
And eventually, you may start asking the question so many of us have quietly asked ourselves:
Why do I keep attracting toxic relationships?
I know this question personally.
And for a long time, I believed the answer said something terrible about me.
Maybe I was too trusting.
Too emotional.
Too forgiving.
Maybe I ignored too much.
Maybe I should have known better.
Maybe I was simply "bad at choosing men."
But healing taught me something important:
Repeated relationship patterns are not always about consciously choosing the wrong person. Sometimes, they are connected to what feels familiar, what we've learned to tolerate, what we believe we have to earn, and how deeply we trust ourselves when something doesn't feel right.
This isn't about blaming ourselves for another person's harmful behavior.
Let me be very clear about that.
Someone else's manipulation, dishonesty, abuse, betrayal, or unhealthy behavior is their responsibility.
But when we begin healing, we can compassionately ask a different question.
Not:
"What's wrong with me?"
But:
"What pattern might I be repeating, and what would help me choose differently?"
That question changed everything for me.
And it may be where things begin changing for you, too.
I know the phrase "Why do I attract toxic relationships?" is common.
It's probably even what brought you here.
But I want us to challenge the language for a moment.
You may not necessarily attract more unhealthy people than anyone else.
Toxic, emotionally unavailable, manipulative, inconsistent, and unhealthy people meet all kinds of women.
Strong women.
Educated women.
Successful women.
Independent women.
Compassionate women.
Women who have done therapy.
Women who understand psychology.
Women who swore they would never tolerate certain behaviors again.
The difference may not always be who approaches us.
Sometimes, the difference is:
Who we give repeated access to.
Who we keep explaining ourselves to.
Who we continue making exceptions for.
Who we believe despite contradictory behavior.
Who we wait for.
Who we keep giving "one more chance."
And how quickly we trust our own discomfort when something feels wrong.
That distinction matters because it moves us away from shame.
You are not a magnet for broken people.
But you may have learned relationship patterns that make it harder to recognize, trust, or respond to unhealthy behavior early.
And learned patterns can be examined.
They can be challenged.
They can be changed.
Our minds are incredibly good at recognizing patterns.
Sometimes, what feels like "chemistry" may also contain elements of familiarity.
Maybe love, attention, or emotional safety felt inconsistent in earlier relationships.
Maybe you learned to work hard for approval.
Maybe keeping the peace became more important than expressing how you really felt.
Maybe you became highly aware of other people's moods.
Maybe you learned to be the understanding one.
The forgiving one.
The strong one.
The one who didn't need too much.
The one who could "handle it."
Then, later in life, a relationship that requires us to chase connection, prove our worth, monitor someone's moods, or work for emotional security may feel strangely recognizable.
Not necessarily comfortable.
But familiar.
And there is a difference.
Familiarity can sometimes be mistaken for compatibility.
We may say:
"I've never felt this connected to anyone."
"He just gets me."
"The chemistry is insane."
"I feel like I've known him forever."
And those feelings may be completely genuine.
But strong feelings alone don't tell us whether a relationship is healthy.
This is why one of the most important questions we can learn to ask is:
Does this person feel familiar, or do I actually feel emotionally safe with them?
Those are not always the same thing.
Some relationships begin with an incredible emotional high.
Constant communication.
Long conversations.
Immediate vulnerability.
Strong physical chemistry.
Future plans.
Big promises.
Intense attention.
The feeling that someone has finally seen us in a way no one else ever has.
It can feel powerful.
Almost addictive.
And when that intensity changes, we may become focused on getting it back.
We think:
What happened?
Did I do something?
Why are they different?
How do we get back to how things were?
Instead of evaluating the relationship as it exists now, we become emotionally attached to restoring the beginning.
This can create a painful cycle.
Connection.
Distance.
Anxiety.
Conflict.
Relief.
Reconnection.
Hope.
Then distance again.
The emotional highs may begin to feel even more powerful because they come after periods of uncertainty or pain.
And before we realize it, we aren't simply enjoying a relationship.
We're waiting for relief inside of one.
This is one of the reasons I believe we have to stop measuring relationships only by how intensely we feel.
We also have to examine the pattern.
Is there consistency?
Is there emotional safety?
Do their actions match their words?
Can concerns be discussed without punishment, blame, or confusion?
Do I feel more like myself in this relationship, or am I slowly disappearing?
Chemistry can be real.
Feelings can be real.
Attraction can be real.
And the relationship can still be unhealthy.
This was a big one for me.
Sometimes, we don't stay attached to who someone consistently shows themselves to be.
We stay attached to who we believe they could become.
We see their pain.
Their childhood.
Their struggles.
Their potential.
The loving moments.
The apologies.
The promises.
The glimpses of the person we desperately want them to be.
And because we are compassionate, we understand.
Again.
And again.
And again.
We tell ourselves:
"He's been through a lot."
"He doesn't know how to communicate."
"He's scared of intimacy."
"He really does love me."
"I know the real him."
"He just needs support."
"He's trying."
But eventually, we have to ask ourselves a difficult question:
Am I building a relationship with the person in front of me, or with the potential I keep imagining?
Potential is powerful because it keeps hope alive.
But hope without consistent behavioral change can keep us emotionally invested in the same painful pattern for years.
One of the hardest lessons I've learned is this:
A person's potential is not the same as their pattern.
We can have compassion for why someone behaves the way they do and still decide their behavior is not healthy for us.
Understanding someone does not obligate us to keep being hurt by them.
Have you ever noticed something felt wrong and immediately talked yourself out of it?
Maybe you thought:
"I'm probably overthinking."
"I'm being too sensitive."
"Maybe I misunderstood."
"I don't want to be dramatic."
"Relationships are hard."
"No one is perfect."
"Maybe it's my anxiety."
These thoughts can sound reasonable.
And sometimes, they are.
But if we have spent years doubting ourselves, we may automatically question our own experience before questioning the behavior that made us uncomfortable.
We may seek reassurance from the very person whose behavior confused us.
We may explain our feelings repeatedly, hoping they'll finally understand.
We may need overwhelming evidence before allowing ourselves to say:
This doesn't feel healthy for me.
This is where lost self-trust becomes incredibly important.
Because when we don't trust ourselves, every relationship decision becomes a debate.
We notice something.
Then we question it.
Then we explain it away.
Then it happens again.
Then we become upset.
Then we feel guilty for being upset.
Then we accept an explanation.
Then we hope.
Then the pattern repeats.
Eventually, we may become so disconnected from our own observations that we don't know what to believe anymore.
Maybe you haven't lost your ability to recognize unhealthy behavior.
Maybe you've practiced overriding yourself for so long that you no longer trust what you recognize.
That is something we can rebuild.
Many of us were praised for being easygoing.
Helpful.
Giving.
Understanding.
Selfless.
Patient.
We became the women everyone could depend on.
And those qualities can be beautiful.
But without boundaries, beautiful qualities can become pathways to self-abandonment.
People-pleasing may sound like:
"It's fine."
"Don't worry about me."
"I understand."
"I'll handle it."
"I don't want to argue."
"I'll just let it go."
But inside, resentment may be building.
Exhaustion may be growing.
Our needs may be disappearing.
And we may be teaching ourselves that keeping someone else comfortable is more important than being honest about how we feel.
Sometimes, what we call "loving deeply" is actually over-functioning.
We manage the relationship.
We initiate the conversations.
We research how to communicate better.
We send the articles.
We suggest counseling.
We forgive.
We adjust.
We explain.
We wait.
We carry the emotional responsibility for two people.
Then we wonder why we're exhausted.
A relationship cannot become healthy through one person's self-abandonment.
Love should not require us to disappear.
Looking back, many of us can identify moments when something didn't feel right.
Maybe it was a comment.
A lie that didn't make sense.
A sudden change in behavior.
A boundary being pushed.
A story that kept changing.
The way they spoke about every ex.
The first time they punished us with silence.
The first time we felt afraid to ask a reasonable question.
The first time we thought:
That was strange.
But we continued.
Why?
Because one uncomfortable moment doesn't always define a person.
Because we wanted to be fair.
Because we didn't want to judge.
Because there were also wonderful moments.
Because we were already emotionally invested.
Because they apologized.
Because we wanted the relationship to work.
The problem is not that we failed to predict the future.
We are not supposed to be human lie detectors.
The work is learning to pay attention when a concerning behavior becomes a pattern.
One incident may require a conversation.
A repeated pattern requires information.
This is why I often encourage women to stop asking only:
"Was it bad enough?"
And begin asking:
"Is this consistently healthy for me?"
We don't need a courtroom case to take our emotional well-being seriously.
Hope is usually described as a beautiful thing.
And it can be.
But in unhealthy relationships, hope can become complicated.
We hope they'll change.
We hope the apology is different this time.
We hope therapy will fix everything.
We hope losing us will wake them up.
We hope the loving version returns.
We hope our patience finally pays off.
We hope all the years we invested weren't for nothing.
So we stay emotionally attached to a future that hasn't happened yet.
This is where I had to learn to separate hope from evidence.
Hope asks:
"What if things get better?"
Reality asks:
"What has consistently happened?"
Hope says:
"But I know who they can be."
Reality says:
"Who are they repeatedly choosing to be?"
Hope says:
"They said they understand."
Reality asks:
"What changed after the conversation?"
This doesn't mean people can't change.
They absolutely can.
But meaningful change is usually demonstrated through consistent action over time.
We cannot build our lives around someone else's unrealized potential.
When we've been in survival mode for a long time, even simple decisions can feel overwhelming.
Should I leave?
Should I stay?
Should I respond?
Should I block them?
Should I give them another chance?
What if I'm wrong?
What if they change?
What if I regret it?
What if I end up alone?
Our minds become crowded with possibilities.
And the more emotionally overwhelmed we feel, the more we may seek immediate relief instead of long-term clarity.
Sometimes, reconnecting provides temporary relief.
The anxiety stops.
The uncertainty quiets.
We feel wanted again.
For a moment, everything feels better.
But relief is not always resolution.
Sometimes, the thing that temporarily calms our emotional discomfort is also part of the cycle creating it.
This is why emotional regulation and self-awareness matter so much.
We make different decisions when we learn how to pause between a feeling and an action.
We can say:
"I feel the urge to contact them. I do not have to act on the urge immediately."
"I miss them. Missing them does not erase the pattern."
"I feel anxious. Anxiety does not automatically mean I'm making the wrong decision."
The goal is not to stop feeling.
The goal is to stop allowing every intense feeling to make our decisions for us.
Sometimes, we become deeply attached to people whose approval feels difficult to earn.
When they choose us, we feel valuable.
When they pull away, we question ourselves.
When they compliment us, we feel high.
When they criticize us, we work harder.
Our self-worth becomes connected to their response.
And without realizing it, the relationship may become less about mutual compatibility and more about proving:
I am lovable.
I am enough.
I am worth choosing.
But here's the painful truth:
Winning someone's approval does not heal the belief that we are unworthy without it.
Because once our worth depends on their validation, we become afraid to lose the person who appears to confirm it.
This is why healing isn't only about recognizing red flags.
It's also about rebuilding our relationship with ourselves.
Because the more we trust and value ourselves, the less willing we become to audition for basic love, respect, honesty, or consistency.
We invested time.
Years, maybe.
We built a home.
Had children.
Combined finances.
Shared dreams.
Defended the relationship to people who were worried about us.
We may have already left and returned.
Maybe more than once.
So leaving can feel like admitting we were wrong.
But staying in pain to justify the time we've already invested doesn't give us that time back.
It only asks us to invest more.
I had to learn that changing my decision after receiving new information did not make me a failure.
It meant I was finally willing to respond to reality.
We are allowed to say:
"I wanted this to work."
"I loved this person."
"I tried."
"And this is still not healthy for me."
All of those statements can exist together.
There may not be one simple answer.
Maybe familiarity has influenced what feels emotionally compelling.
Maybe intensity felt like connection.
Maybe you became attached to potential.
Maybe self-doubt taught you to question your own discomfort.
Maybe people-pleasing made boundaries difficult.
Maybe you learned to over-function in relationships.
Maybe hope kept you waiting.
Maybe emotional exhaustion made it harder to make clear decisions.
Maybe you were trying to earn validation.
Or maybe you simply met someone who presented themselves one way and behaved very differently after you became emotionally invested.
None of this means the harm was your fault.
But understanding our patterns gives us something incredibly important:
Choice.
We cannot control who approaches us.
We cannot guarantee that another person will always be honest.
We cannot predict every unhealthy behavior on a first date.
But we can learn to trust what we observe.
We can stop explaining away repeated patterns.
We can slow down.
We can allow consistency to reveal character.
We can build boundaries.
We can stop making potential more important than behavior.
We can learn the difference between emotional intensity and emotional safety.
And most importantly:
We can rebuild trust in ourselves.
I want to leave you with a mindset shift.
Instead of asking:
"Why do I always choose the wrong person?"
Try asking:
"What have I learned to tolerate that no longer aligns with the woman I'm becoming?"
Instead of:
"Why am I so stupid?"
Ask:
"What do I understand now that I didn't fully understand then?"
Instead of:
"Why didn't I leave sooner?"
Ask:
"What made leaving difficult, and what support do I need to choose myself now?"
Instead of:
"How did I let this happen again?"
Ask:
"What pattern am I finally ready to interrupt?"
This is not about blame.
It's about awareness.
And awareness gives us the opportunity to do something differently.
Take a moment and ask yourself:
What behaviors have I repeatedly explained away in relationships?
When something feels wrong, do I trust myself or immediately question my reaction?
Do I tend to fall in love with someone's consistent behavior or their potential?
Have I confused emotional intensity with emotional intimacy?
Do I feel responsible for fixing, healing, or emotionally managing my partner?
What am I afraid will happen if I set a boundary?
Have I been more focused on being chosen than deciding whether this person is healthy for me?
What relationship pattern am I no longer willing to repeat?
You don't have to answer everything perfectly.
Just notice.
Awareness is where we begin.
If you've experienced more than one toxic or unhealthy relationship, please hear me:
Your history does not mean you are destined to repeat it.
You are not too damaged.
You are not too trusting.
You are not impossible to love.
And you are not required to shame yourself into making better choices.
We can learn through compassion.
We can become more aware without becoming hypervigilant.
We can create boundaries without building walls around ourselves.
We can love and still observe.
We can hope and still look at evidence.
We can miss someone and still choose not to return.
We can admit that a relationship hurt us without making our pain our permanent identity.
And we can rebuild the self-trust that unhealthy relationships may have slowly taught us to abandon.
Because sometimes, healing isn't simply about learning how to avoid a toxic person.
Sometimes, healing is learning how to stop abandoning ourselves once the pattern becomes clear.
Start with the Survival Mode Assessment and begin identifying the thoughts, emotional patterns, and survival responses that may be keeping you feeling stuck.
You can also explore my Foundation & Self-Awareness Collection, created to help us better understand our patterns, strengthen self-awareness, and begin rebuilding trust in ourselves using practical, psychology-informed and CBT-based tools.
And if you've ever wondered why you can know a relationship is unhealthy and still feel emotionally attached, read next:
Because sometimes, it's not as simple as "just leave."
And understanding why we stay emotionally attached may be the first step toward finally seeing the pattern differently.
Educational Disclaimer: This article is for educational and informational purposes only and is not therapy, mental health treatment, medical advice, or a substitute for care from a licensed professional. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, or CBT, should be provided by an appropriately licensed mental health professional when used as clinical treatment. The tools and concepts shared here are intended for education, self-reflection, and coaching support. If you are experiencing abuse or are concerned about your immediate safety, consider seeking support from a qualified local professional or emergency service.