When Dysfunction Feels Like Chemistry: Why We Get Hooked on Complicated Relationships, ft. The Diplomat
Why are some relationships so difficult to walk away from, even when we know they aren't making us happy? Why can an argument leave us frustrated, exhausted, and disconnected, yet somehow make the relationship feel more intense, more important, even more alive? And why do we sometimes mistake that intensity for intimacy?
In a recent episode of Rebel Culture, Michelle and I explore these questions through the relationship between Kate and Hal in The Diplomat. We have quite different reactions to their relationship (which makes for an interesting conversation in itself), but it opens up a much bigger discussion about relationship dynamics, emotional intensity, conflict, and the things that keep us connected to people even when those connections are complicated: there is a lot more going on in these relationships than simply deciding whether they're good or bad.
When dysfunction feels like chemistry
Some relationships have an unmistakable charge: there is tension, anticipation, disagreement, reconciliation, frustration, attraction, and sometimes an almost magnetic pull toward the other person.
Even when things are difficult, there can be a sense of aliveness: we might find ourselves thinking about the other person constantly, replaying conversations, anticipating the next interaction, or feeling an enormous rush of relief when things finally seem okay again.
The emotional intensity can be compelling...but is that intensity actually intimacy?
Sometimes what we experience as chemistry is connected to a pattern of activation; the relationship keeps us emotionally engaged, but that doesn't necessarily mean we're feeling secure, understood, or genuinely connected.
In fact, the unpredictability itself can become part of what keeps us invested.
When a relationship moves repeatedly between tension and connection, the moments of closeness can feel particularly powerful: a small gesture of kindness after a difficult exchange can carry enormous emotional weight; a moment of tenderness can feel like a breakthrough, even when the underlying pattern hasn't really changed.
This doesn't mean the connection is entirely negative or that there isn't genuine affection between two people; relationships are rarely that simple.
However, it does invite us to ask a different question:
Am I experiencing connection, or am I caught up in the intensity of trying to find it?
Conflict isn't the same as fighting
One of the distinctions we explore in the episode is the difference between conflict and fighting.
Conflict is inevitable in relationships. Two people have different experiences, needs, perspectives, histories, and expectations, and sometimes those differences create significant disagreement.
Healthy conflict doesn't mean everyone stays calm or that nobody gets upset. We can feel strongly, disagree passionately, and even become frustrated with one another.
The important distinction is whether we're still able to remain in relationship with each other while working through those differences.
Can we listen? Can we be curious about the other person's experience? Can we recognize that our perspective isn't necessarily the only one? And can we find a way to move forward, even if we don't arrive at complete agreement?
Fighting is something different.
Fighting can become a repetitive cycle in which the same arguments happen over and over, neither person feels heard, and both people end up increasingly disconnected. Instead of working through a disagreement, we're defending ourselves, trying to win, or attempting to get the other person to finally understand something they've perhaps been hearing for years...and nothing really changes.
There's an important question worth asking here:
If we're constantly finding ourselves at the point of "I'm going to die on this hill," what are we actually doing in this relationship?
This isn't about avoiding difficult conversations or pretending that differences don't matter. It's about recognizing when the way we're relating to each other has become more important than the thing we're actually disagreeing about.
Why is it so hard to let go?
One of the things that can be particularly confusing about complicated relationships is that we can recognize the difficulties and still feel strongly attached.
We might know that we're unhappy and we might recognize recurring patterns. We might even have decided to leave, only to find ourselves missing the person, questioning our decision, or wondering whether things could be different.
From the outside, it can be tempting to ask: Why would someone stay in a relationship like that?
This question often misses something important: there is something the relationship is providing, even if it is also causing distress.
Perhaps it offers excitement, familiarity, validation, a sense of being needed, or the possibility of finally getting something we've wanted for a long time, or perhaps the relationship connects us to something familiar in our own history.
Perhaps the good moments feel so meaningful that we're willing to tolerate a great deal to experience them again.
Sometimes, the relationship has become such a significant part of how we understand ourselves that imagining life outside it feels disorienting.
None of this means someone is making a bad choice or that they should simply know better.
It means that human attachment is complicated.
We don't stay connected to people only because they make us happy. We stay connected for all sorts of reasons, some of which we may not fully understand ourselves.
This is also why judgment is rarely helpful: being told that we should leave, that we deserve better, or that we need to move on doesn't necessarily help us understand what is keeping us there.
Sometimes it just makes us feel more alone with something we're already struggling to make sense of.
The therapeutic relationship: Helping someone find their own way
This brings us to something I think is particularly important:
When someone we care about is in a difficult relationship, our instinct may be to protect them.
We see their unhappiness, we worry about them and we might genuinely believe that leaving would be the best thing they could do.
That response often comes from love.
The therapeutic relationship, however, has a different purpose.
As therapists, our job isn't to decide whether someone should stay in a relationship or leave it and it's not to steer them toward the outcome we think would be best.
It's to help them understand themselves more fully.
From a Gestalt perspective, this involves becoming more aware of what's happening internally and relationally. What are we experiencing? What are we responding to? What needs, fears, expectations, and different parts of ourselves are showing up in the relationship?
What are we getting from this connection? What are we giving up? What feels possible, and what feels impossible?
These aren't questions with predetermined answers; they're opportunities to develop greater awareness and a clearer sense of ourselves within the relationship...and that distinction matters.
If a therapist simply tells someone what to do, even with the best intentions, they risk replacing the client's judgment with their own.
Instead, therapy can offer something different: a space where people can explore their experiences without having to defend their choices or worry about being judged.
Sometimes that means helping someone recognize patterns they hadn't previously seen; sometimes it means exploring why leaving feels so difficult. And sometimes it means discovering that they want to stay, but relate to the other person differently.
Sometimes it means recognizing that a relationship is no longer something they want to continue...and that decision belongs to the client.
Our role is to support their ability to make that decision with greater awareness, autonomy, and connection to themselves.
Reclaiming a sense of choice
One of the most difficult things about emotionally intense relationships is how easily they can pull us away from ourselves.
When we're caught up in a recurring dynamic, our attention can become almost entirely focused on the other person.
What are they thinking? What did they mean? Why did they say that? Will things be okay? How do I get them to understand?
We can become so consumed by the relationship that we lose touch with our own experience, and therapy can offer an opportunity to step back.
Not necessarily to leave the relationship, but to create enough space to see it differently; to recognize what we're experiencing rather than simply reacting to it. To notice the patterns we're participating in, and to understand what keeps us connected and what we might want to change. And perhaps most importantly, to rediscover that we have choices.
We don't have to make an immediate decision and we don't have to arrive at a particular conclusion. And we definitely don't have to justify our feelings or convince someone else that our experience makes sense.
We can begin by becoming more connected to ourselves.
When we have a stronger sense of who we are, what we need, and what matters to us, we're in a better position to navigate our relationships, whatever we ultimately decide.
A final thought
Relationships are complicated; people are complicated. Sometimes the connections that matter most to us are also the ones that challenge us the most.
I do think, however, there's an important difference between a relationship that challenges us to grow and one that keeps us caught in the same painful patterns.
The question isn't necessarily whether a relationship is difficult: it's whether we're able to remain connected to ourselves and each other while navigating those difficulties.
If we find ourselves repeatedly fighting the same battles, perhaps it's worth getting curious about what's really happening.
Not to judge ourselves, and not to make a decision before we're ready: but to understand.
Because the goal isn't simply to make the right relationship choice. It's to be able to make our choices from a place of greater awareness, self-understanding, and autonomy.
About Counter Current Therapy
At Counter Current Therapy, we work with teens, adults, and families navigating relationship challenges, emotional distress, anxiety, and life transitions. Our approach is relational, Gestalt-informed, and grounded in the belief that greater awareness and connection can create new possibilities for how we experience ourselves and others.
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