How to Defend Your Peace in Toxic Situations Without Losing Yourself

Image by wendy CORNIQUET from Pixabay

Growth is hard. Sometimes it feels like an attack, a storm we never asked for. But here’s the truth: the alternative to growth is staying stuck, trapped in the same old patterns, playing the same old roles, and living from the same old pain.

If we close our heart to avoid hurt, we also close ourselves to joy. As an episode of Shadow and Bone reminded me:

“Hundreds of years I closed my heart
As if that was the solution to ending all pain.
It’s a safe way to live, but a small way as well.
You guard against pain, you guard against joy.”

But growth doesn’t mean life suddenly becomes calm. Instead, it asks us to face old challenges with new eyes - not to punish us, but to help us affirm to ourselves that we’re ready to respond differently.

Just recently, I held a boundary with someone I care about, not with blame or frustration, but with clarity and kindness. What followed wasn’t ease, but a wave of emotional tension as my new response sent a shock wave into the existing dynamic. I felt the old pattern creeping in: the urge to fix, to lighten the energy for everyone, to make it all okay at my own expense.

But this time, I noticed it in the moment.

Even as the mood grew heavy and my nervous system braced, I stayed present. I reminded myself that not everyone’s discomfort is mine to resolve even though – in that moment – it felt that would be the only thing that would bring relief. I felt the familiar weight in my stomach and, instead of absorbing it, I acknowledged it, settled back in around it, and let it be.

This is what growth looks like, not perfect reactions or smooth sailing, but pausing in the mental scramble, the blind panic, and choosing something different. These moments don’t prove we’re failing. They invite us to embody what we’ve learned, to sit with the discomfort without trying to fix it.

It’s not about changing others. It’s about honouring what’s real in us. Again and again. Even when it’s really hard.

And that example? It was with a perfectly lovely human. No hooks, no games. Just the inherited and learned patterns we all carry, quietly playing themselves out.

But if you’ve ever been drawn to toxic people or situations - if you’ve always been the fixer, like me - this growth can feel like emotional whiplash.

If you were someone who carried the emotional load, kept the peace, and managed everyone’s moods - then got ditched or finally walked away, using the breakup to rebuild a steadier life - old dynamics can still resurface. Not because you’re choosing to reconnect with toxicity, but because it won’t let go.

But this isn’t regression. It’s an invitation to step fully into our evolution.

We’re no longer here to fix, rescue, or appease. We’re here to honour what’s real: to choose clarity over chaos, self-respect over self-erasure (that’s a new phrase to me - self-erasure - yet it’s so spot on).

For some, chaos is a form of connection.
For others, conflict is how they stay relevant or protect their image.
And for some, disruption is the only power they know.

In family law or mediation, it’s common to see baseless claims, disguised financial demands, controlling moves framed as concern, deliberate delays, or covert manipulation - all tactics less about justice and more about control. You start to see the patterns:

• They accuse you of what they’re actually doing (called projection)
• They deny your reality, twist facts, rewrite history (called gaslighting)
• They involve others to isolate or destabilise you (called triangulation)
• They push your buttons just to provoke a reaction, so they can say you’re the problem (called emotional baiting)
• They flip the script to appear hurt, even when they’re the aggressor (called victim posturing)

At first glance, their behaviour might seem cruel or irrational, but it’s often strategic. The aim isn’t justice or genuine need, it’s control and punishment. Sadly, the very systems designed to protect people, along with those closest to us (family, friends, colleagues) can be vulnerable to exploitation. Manipulators weaponise these connections, turning trusted relationships into tools that isolate and undermine victims, sometimes fueling anger, depression, or desperation.

To someone grounded and emotionally aware, this can feel inconceivable. Yet it’s very real - and happens more often than we admit, especially to those who’ve done the work to step out of old roles. It’s like the old crabs-in-a-bucket adage: when one tries to climb out, the others pull them back down.

Psychologist and author James Redfield calls this a “control drama”, a subconscious way people siphon energy by provoking reactions in others. Today, we might say they’re “getting a feed” - emotionally and psychologically - off someone else’s distress.

They may not even be fully conscious of it. But when someone thrives without them, when the fixer becomes whole, it threatens their identity deeply.

So, they poke. They pull. They provoke.

Because deep down, they feel entitled to your energy, attention, and emotional labour. When you no longer give it willingly, they try to seize it through control.

This isn’t about need. It’s about power.

What makes this so disorienting is how plausibly these tactics are cloaked:

• “I just want what’s fair”
• “You owe me this - after everything”
• “I’m not trying to cause trouble, but…”

To the untrained eye, this can sound reasonable. But it’s not.
It’s an energy grab.
A way to stay tethered to your life by injecting instability.
A method to keep you emotionally engaged, because without that, they lose their grip.

That’s why understanding these dynamics matters.

Not to judge others, but to free yourself from the invisible strings they keep pulling.

Transformation begins when you are no longer take the bait or tie your peace to others’ behaviour. Suddenly, the choice is clear: engage in draining conflict or find another way. Either way costs energy, but now you’ve done the work - expressing needs without guilt, honouring others without losing themselves, holding flexible boundaries. When the storm comes, the old urge to fix, defend or appease whispers, but a stronger voice says, 'You don’t need to play that role anymore'.  You seek freedom grounded in truth. Letting go doesn’t mean giving up, it means refusing to be drawn into rigged games and trusting your own peace.

Yes, it will stop, though not in the way our nervous system hopes. Not because they change, but because each time it happens, we become less and less destabilised. At first, it can be agonising. We’ve heard of people wanting to escape that unbearable state by any means necessary, heck at times I’ve felt it. When our nervous system is dysregulated it literally feels like everything is life and death.

But sticking with it matters. What eventually ends is our emotional investment, our need to explain, and our nervous system’s reactivity. This unfolds slowly: with every message we don’t spiral over, every boundary we hold, every moment we soften for ourselves rather than to appease.

Eventually, it stops feeling like navigating them and more like brushing dust off our shoulder, not because they changed, but because we did. This isn’t just psychological; it’s somatic. The real stress isn’t only their behaviour, it’s the unpredictability: stretches of calm followed by sudden jabs that keep our nervous system on edge.

This is intermittent reinforcement, the same cycle that traps people far longer than they realise. But once we see the pattern, it loses its power. We can meet it with grounded knowing “I don’t need to brace; I’ll be okay”.

Emotional maturity looks like this:

• We stop needing them to change; we see clearly what is and stop trying to make it different.
• Our boundaries become simpler and stronger; we say less and let our non-engagement speak.
• Their behaviour no longer defines our day; the jabs come but don’t enter our core.
• The emotional charge fades; their name barely ripples now.
• Practical ties loosen; formal agreements replace emotional ones, communication fades, and life reclaims itself.

Eventually, we no longer have to “deal with them” - emotionally, energetically, or practically. We reclaim our peace, piece by piece, until the weight is gone. This is what it means to grow out of old patterns and trust that we don’t need to fix or control to feel safe.

Let people reveal themselves. Let systems show cracks. Find strength in staying connected to your truth. The world may not be fair, but you can be fair to yourself.

​Choose wisely. Stand steady.
You don’t need to fight to be free. You already are.
 
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If you enjoyed this post, you might also like Embrace Your Authentic Self, Shed the Toxic People in Your Life, The Alchemy of Mentorship and Self-Discovery in Unlocking Growth, and Beyond the Silver Bullet - Embrace the Upward Spiral of Transformation.