Why Some Relationships Make Us Question Our Sanity

Some relationships mess with your mind in ways you don’t even realize until you’re halfway gone. They start quiet, soft, subtle, like a whisper in the night, and then they grow heavy. You begin to doubt everything about yourself. You wonder if you’re too sensitive, too emotional, too much. You question whether your feelings are real, whether your memory is faulty, whether you imagined that moment where they were cold, or cruel, or absent. And the truth is, your feelings aren’t imaginary. The problem is the other person.

Being wanted is easy. It’s the late-night texts, the sudden attention, the laughter and jokes, the moments that make your heart jump. It feels like love, and it’s addictive. You feel alive. You feel seen. And so you stay. You forgive the silences, the inconsistencies, the things that leave you anxious, unsettled, second-guessing yourself. You tell yourself it’s worth it because when they’re present, it feels like magic.

But being valued is different. Being valued is quiet. It’s showing up when no one else is watching. It’s remembering the small things that matter to you, holding you through your low moments without needing a spotlight. It’s someone standing by your side when life gets messy, when your anxiety spikes, when your world feels like it’s falling apart. It’s someone who doesn’t just want you, they choose you. Every day. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it’s hard. Even when they could be doing something easier, more fun, or more self-serving.

Most of us never see the difference at first. We mistake attention for care. We mistake desire for commitment. We mistake being wanted for being loved. We justify absences, ignore red flags, excuse mistreatment, because the highs feel so good, because the spark blinds us to the emptiness. And it slowly eats away at you. You start doubting yourself. You start overthinking every text, every call, every word and silence. You wonder if you’re too much, too little, too flawed, too needy. And that’s when the relationship starts to feel like a trap.

I’ve seen it. I’ve lived it. Friends have lived it. People give their hearts fully and get back fragments, crumbs of attention, moments that feel like love but aren’t. You laugh together one night, cry alone the next. You’re promised care and consistency and get ghosts and excuses. And your brain, wired to crave connection, hooks onto every small spark, every tiny proof of attention, trying to convince itself that this is love, that this is normal, that this is enough.

It isn’t. Being wanted is a temporary rush. It’s not love. It’s a dopamine hit, a thrill, a distraction. Being valued is deep, steady, rare. It’s someone who doesn’t just chase you when it’s convenient but shows up when you need them most. Someone who protects your heart, respects your time, notices the pain you try to hide, fights for you quietly, consistently, without being asked. That is love. That is sanity. That is peace.

Some relationships will make you question your mind. They will make you doubt your worth. They will make you feel small while convincing you it’s okay. They will make you obsess, overthink, and wonder if it’s you who’s broken. And it’s not. It’s the relationship. It’s the person who never saw the work love takes, who never valued you enough to try, who wanted the excitement without the responsibility.

Once you see the difference, you stop confusing attention with care, spark with flame. You stop giving pieces of your heart to someone who doesn’t know how to protect them. You stop justifying behavior that hurts you. You start waiting for the person who actually sees you, who actually chooses you, who actually values you. And when that person comes along, you know it immediately, because you don’t have to question it. You don’t have to overthink. You don’t feel your sanity slipping away anymore.

Until then, recognize it. Admit it. Accept that being wanted isn’t enough. Protect your heart, your mind, your peace. Because some relationships are meant to teach you about your limits before you meet the love that keeps you whole.