One of the biggest misconceptions about push-pull dynamics is that they’re simply about one person chasing while the other person runs.
And though that might be true on the surface, I think there’s something much deeper happening underneath this dynamic.
The challenge is that they’re going about it in very different ways.
One person feels safer by moving toward connection. They want to talk it through, repair it quickly, seek reassurance, or close the distance.
The other person feels safer by creating space. They need time to think, regulate, or settle their nervous system before they can reconnect.
It’s important to remember that neither response is inherently wrong.
The challenge comes when each person’s attempt to create safety becomes the very thing that makes the other person feel unsafe.
The more one person reaches for connection.... the more overwhelmed the other person becomes.
The more the other person pulls away…. the more anxious the first person becomes.
It almost becomes a dance.
One person pulls away because they need space → The other moves closer because they need reassurance.
Then the constant failed attempts at connection becomes too painful, so they pull away → Now the other person moves closer.
And so it goes… back and forth.
I’ve experienced this dynamic in different relationships throughout my life, and one of the most eye-opening realizations I had was noticing how quickly these unconscious survival strategies can become (dysfunctional) relationship dynamics.
In one of my past “relationships” (yes, I use that term loosely with this particular partner) I was desperate to be loved by this person. After countless attempts to get them to spend more time with me, or even just talk to me in the same way they did in the beginning, I finally realized that I was exhausting myself in attempts to be seen and loved.
We can only take so much rejection before it breaks us. I finally said enough was enough, and I stopped reaching out and trying so fucking hard.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you see it) I realized that whenever I finally stopped reaching out and withdrew my energy, the other person would come closer.
At first it happened naturally because like I said, I had reached the point of emotional exhaustion.
But once I noticed the pattern, it became really hard not to use it. My nervous system had learned that if I stopped reaching for connection, they would eventually come closer.
I didn’t consciously realize at the time how manipulative this was. I don’t think we intentionally do this in the malicious way we think about manipulation, either.
I didn’t do this because I wanted to manipulate them, rather because my very wise nervous system just learned that withdrawing created the connection I had been longing for.
What started as a decision to protect myself by not participating in the relationship anymore became my go-to attempt to create safety by trying to control the distance between us.
I think this is important to name because many of the behaviors we judge ourselves for aren’t coming from a desire to control another person. They’re often coming from a younger part of us that is trying to prevent abandonment, rejection, or disconnection the only way it knows how.
That doesn’t mean those strategies create healthy relationships.
It just means they make sense… to that part of us. Healing wasn't judging that part of me. It was understanding what she had been trying to protect all along.
When we understand why we’re reaching, withdrawing, shutting down, over-explaining, or trying to regain connection, we create space for compassion instead of shame.
The biggest shift in my healing wasn’t finding a partner who never triggered me, or learning how to convince someone to stay. And it definitely wasn’t becoming someone who no longer needed reassurance.
The biggest shift was learning how to pause before reacting. Instead of immediately trying to close the distance between us, I started asking myself one question:
What am I making this moment mean about me?
Am I making it mean I’m not important?
That I’m being abandoned?
That I’ve done something wrong?
That I’m too much?
Am I making closeness mean I’m trapped?
Responsible for someone else’s emotions?
That conflict isn’t safe?
That if I stay in this conversation, I’ll lose myself?
More often than not, the intensity of the moment isn't only about what's happening with our partner. It's also illuminating something much older and from our past.
That’s why I don’t believe healing starts by changing the other person’s behavior. It starts by becoming curious about the part of you that’s asking for your attention.
Instead of being stuck in the same loop wondering, “How do I get them to come back?”
Try asking yourself:
Where do I feel this in my body?
What does it look and feel like?
How old does this part of me feel?
What is she afraid is about to happen?
What does she need from me right now?
One of my favorite shadow work prompts for this pattern is:
“If they pull away/push, then...”
Try to finish the sentence without filtering it. Let yourself write the first thing that comes up in the comments:
“If they pull away, then...”
...I’m not enough.
...they’re going to leave.
...I’ll always be alone.
...I have to fix this.
...I’m unlovable.
If any of these beliefs feel really familiar, there is not anything inherently wrong with you, and you're not alone in this. It’s both brave and courageous to bring curiosity to this part of yourself that learned these beliefs long before this relationship existed.
Once you’ve identified the fear, slow your breathing, and place a hand on your heart or your chest. It’s important to remind yourself that the feeling you’re experiencing is real, but it isn’t necessarily evidence that your fear is true.
Then ask yourself one more question:
What would support me right now that doesn’t require my partner to change?
Sometimes that’s going for a walk.
Sometimes it’s journaling.
Sometimes it’s texting a trusted friend (or our community chat).
Sometimes it’s letting yourself cry.
Sometimes it’s about allowing yourself to feel disappointed without immediately trying to fix the relationship.
I want to be really clear that this does not mean you suppress your needs. It doesn’t mean you pretend you’re okay. And it doesn’t mean you stop asking for repair.
It means you’re no longer asking your partner to regulate the younger part of you before you’ve spent any time with her yourself.
Ironically, the more I’ve learned to stay with myself during moments of distance, the less desperately I’ve needed someone else to make me feel safe.
You hear me say it all the time: the goal isn’t to stop getting triggered.
That's what earned secure attachment has looked like for me. It's not the absence of feeling triggered or activated. It doesn't mean I stopped feeling anxious when someone needs space. It means I can stay connected to myself while I wait for repair. It means I no longer make space mean abandonment before gathering more information.
One of the questions I hear most often is: “Why do I keep ending up in relationships like this?”
I remember being in one of my last relationships and feeling so much judgment toward myself. How could I be so aware, yet still find myself in a relationship and dynamic like this?
Now I can see that something much deeper was playing out.
When we find ourselves in these push/pull dynamics, we’re typically with a partner that mirrors both what we longed for and what wounded us.
In other words, we’re drawn to people who offer us glimpses of the love we’ve always wanted while simultaneously activating the places in us that still need healing.
For me, moments of emotional presence, openness, validation, and connection felt incredibly magnetic because they touched needs that hadn’t always been consistently met when I was a child.
But when that same person became unavailable or inconsistent, it activated something that also felt deeply familiar.
I’d find myself wondering where I stood. Trying to “earn” closeness again. Feeling responsible for bringing the connection back.
Looking back, I don’t think I was only trying to preserve the relationship. I was unconsciously trying to create a different ending to an old story. I think I was also trying to reclaim a sense of agency. As children, many of us didn’t have the power to make someone stay, comfort us, or choose us.
So it’s not surprising that, as adults, we sometimes try to regain that sense of control through our relationships.
I wanted this relationship to succeed where previous relationships had left me feeling unseen, uncertain, or not chosen.
I think many of us are doing the same thing without realizing it.
What’s also fascinating is that we’re often mirroring something for our partners, too. If they grew up without consistent emotional presence, your warmth, care, and desire for connection may feel deeply comforting to them.
But when you become overwhelmed and shut down, withdraw, or give the silent treatment, you may unintentionally recreate a familiar wound for them as well.
Neither person is consciously choosing this dynamic.
More often than not, two nervous systems are meeting with different strategies for finding safety, while unknowingly recreating emotional environments that feel familiar.
I don’t share this to place blame on our upbringing or our parents. I share it because awareness creates choice. When we understand what our nervous system learned about love, conflict, distance, and repair, we stop judging ourselves for repeating the pattern and start becoming curious about why it exists in the first place.
The beautiful part is that awareness gives us choice. When we can recognize the pattern, we no longer have to keep reenacting it.
Instead of asking our partner to heal the younger parts of us that still carry these wounds, we can begin turning toward those parts ourselves with curiosity, compassion, and care.
That, in my experience, is where the cycle finally begins to change.
One of the most important things I’ve had to learn is that not all space is the same.
Healthy space creates the conditions for repair. For many of us with anxious or codependent patterns, giving someone space can actually feel like we’re creating distance or disconnecting from the relationship. In reality, healthy space is often what makes genuine repair possible.
Unhealthy space avoids repair altogether.
There’s a big difference between someone saying, “I’m feeling overwhelmed. Can we come back to this after dinner?” and someone disappearing for days without communication, leaving you wondering where you stand.
One is an attempt at regulation.
The other is often an avoidance of repair.
In my relationship with Justin, we’ve had to learn what healthy space looks like. If one of us notices we’re becoming defensive, emotionally flooded, or unable to have a productive conversation, we’ll “table” the conversation and agree to come back to it later.
That space isn’t about punishing each other or creating distance. It’s about giving our nervous systems time to settle so we can have a conversation that’s actually productive.
The repair is still expected. The connection isn’t being threatened. The conversation isn’t being avoided.
That’s very different from the dynamic I experienced in other relationships, where space often came *without* reassurance, communication, or a clear path back to connection.
For me, the answer isn’t found in the space itself… It’s found in what happens after the space.
When someone is taking space in order to regulate, they come back. They may not come back perfectly. They may still stumble over their words. But there’s a willingness to repair.
To have the conversation.
To take responsibility for their part.
To work toward understanding one another.
When someone is consistently avoiding repair, the pattern looks different. The conversation never really gets revisited. You’re left wondering where you stand. You find yourself carrying the emotional labor of bringing the relationship back together, over and over again.
No relationship gets this right every single time. I mean, we’re all human and we’ve all got loads of stuff we’re navigating at any given point in time.
The question isn’t whether someone ever needs space. The question is:
When the dust settles, are we both willing to come back and repair?
Part of healing is learning to regulate your nervous system when healthy space is needed.
Another part is developing the discernment to recognize when someone consistently avoids accountability, communication, and repair.
Those are two very different experiences.
I want you to know that you don’t have to navigate these patterns alone. This is the exact work we do together inside the Codependency Alchemy Membership through our monthly shadow work + inner child healing sessions, guided meditations, live Q&As, and a community of women learning how to stop reacting from old survival patterns and start creating relationships that feel safe, connected, and secure. I’d love to support you there, in fact → I saved you a spot!
Was this post supportive? If so, take a moment to like and restack it so that other people looking for these conversations can find it. As always, thank you for supporting me in my mission of healing codependency and the mother wound. I appreciate you!
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