Many of us reach a point in our dating lives or relationships where we stop and think, How am I here again?

Maybe you’re actively dating and it feels like you’re cycling through different versions of the same person. Or perhaps, looking back on your relationship history, you notice that despite different faces and circumstances, the emotional landscape looks eerily familiar.

This can be deeply frustrating — especially when you feel like you’ve done a lot of work on yourself. You’re more self-aware, more intentional, clearer about what you want. And yet, you still find yourself pulled into dynamics that don’t align with the kind of relationship you say you’re seeking.

So why does this happen?

We’re drawn to what feels safe — not what’s healthy

A useful starting point is this: our nervous system is not wired to seek what’s healthiest or most fulfilling. It’s wired to seek what feels safe — and “safe” doesn’t always mean comfortable, calm, or kind.

Often, our reality reflects what the deeper parts of us recognise and know how to navigate, even when that reality is painful. In fact, familiar pain can feel far safer than unfamiliar peace.

This is why simply saying I want a secure relationship isn’t always enough to change our patterns. Wanting something consciously doesn’t automatically mean we feel safe receiving it.

Repetition compulsion and early imprints

There’s a long-standing idea in psychology called repetition compulsion — the tendency to unconsciously recreate aspects of our early relational experiences in an attempt to resolve them.

A related perspective comes from Imago Therapy, which suggests we’re often drawn to partners who carry a mix of the positive and negative traits of our early caregivers. Not because we’re trying to repeat the past on purpose, but because these dynamics interact with our nervous system in familiar ways.

This doesn’t mean you’re literally seeking out someone who resembles your parent. More often, it’s about the roles you fall into and the emotional terrain you know how to operate within.

For example, if you grew up in an environment where love felt conditional — where you had to be good, helpful, low-maintenance, or emotionally attuned to others to stay connected — those adaptations don’t disappear in adulthood. They often become fused with identity: I’m the caring one. The peacemaker. The self-sacrificing one.

And when our sense of worth becomes tied to these roles, it makes sense that we’d be drawn to relationships where we get to keep playing them.

Why inconsistency can feel magnetic

This is how someone who is inconsistent, emotionally unavailable, or unpredictable can feel strangely compelling.

To an outside observer, that behaviour might look like a clear no. But to someone whose system is used to chaos or conditional connection, it can register as familiar — even activating.

There’s often a sense of I know how to do this. I know how to scan for shifts, adapt, try harder, stay alert. These are skills that were learned early and practised often. In contrast, consistency, clarity, and emotional availability may feel foreign — even threatening — because they don’t require those protective strategies.

Resting in love, trusting love, receiving love without earning it takes practice. And if you’ve had very little of that, it may not feel safe yet.

This isn’t a flaw — it’s a protective pattern

If you notice yourself repeatedly ending up in relationships that trigger anxiety, self-doubt, or hypervigilance, it doesn’t mean you’re broken.

It means parts of you believe those dynamics are protective.

There’s often an internal split: one part of you wants secure, steady love, while another part is deeply invested in keeping you safe using strategies that once worked. When those parts are at odds, it can look like self-sabotage — but it’s more accurate to see it as self-protection.

Curiosity is far more useful here than self-blame.

You can’t change patterns while fully enacting them

One of the hardest truths in this work is that it’s very difficult to shift relational patterns while you’re deeply immersed in them.

If a relationship continually activates fear, uncertainty, and reactivity, your nervous system has no incentive to stand down. Protective strategies exist for a reason — and they won’t disappear while you’re still in the conditions they were built for.

This is why repeating the same cycle over and over can actually reinforce it. Each reenactment gathers more evidence for the old stories: See? This is how relationships go. This is what love feels like.

Awareness has to be paired with choice.

That might look like stepping back from dynamics you know pull you into old patterns. Or, if you’re in one, committing to doing something different: setting boundaries, speaking up, following through, and no longer chasing people who are unsure about you.

This is where self-responsibility comes in — not as punishment, but as agency.

Choosing differently requires clarity

If you’re not currently in a relationship, this work becomes about getting clear before you’re swept up by attraction alone.

Attraction matters — but it can’t be the only compass. Without a broader framework for compatibility, values, and how you want a relationship to feel, the subconscious will default to what it knows best.

It’s important to identify the signs — both in the other person and in yourself — that indicate you’re slipping into familiar but unhelpful territory. Often, your internal experience is the first clue: heightened anxiety, overthinking, self-silencing, or the urge to work harder for connection.

Familiar feelings tend to lead to familiar outcomes.

Are you ready for secure love?

One final, gentle question worth sitting with is this: Am I actually ready for a secure relationship?

Secure relationships are deeply vulnerable in their own way. There’s nowhere to hide. No chaos to blame. No ambiguity to manage. Being met with steadiness, clarity, and emotional presence can feel exposing if you’re not used to it.

With awareness, compassion, and a willingness to choose differently, patterns can change. But it starts by understanding that what you’re drawn to makes sense — and that you’re allowed to grow beyond it.