the “let them” theory

on control, detachment, and self respect

if they treat you like shit, let them. not as a resignation, or because it doesn’t hurt, but for the fact that trying to control the behaviour of people who have already made a habit of hurting you is an endless trap. you’ll waste hours, days, years explaining the same thing in different fonts, thinking if you can just phrase it right, they’ll finally understand. they won’t. they are not incapable of understanding, but they are also not interested in changing. people don’t change through clarity. they change through choice. and if someone’s already decided that your comfort is optional, your hurt negotiable, your needs inconvenient, believe them.

the hardest pill to swallow is that sometimes people just don’t care as much as you do. and no amount of loyalty or empathy on your part is going to change that equation. you can’t save someone who isn’t drowning. they’re just watching you flail from the shore, calling it a connection.

you think you’re being patient. kind. emotionally generous. but half the time, what you’re calling love is really a threat response. when your nervous system has been trained to find stability in chaos, inconsistency starts to feel like home. you rationalise their distance, you fill in their silences with meaning, you turn coldness into mystery, flakiness into freedom, and neglect into “they’re just going through something.” you’ve made a career out of giving people the benefit of the doubt, and it’s made you emotionally bankrupt.

if they wanted to talk to you, they would. if they wanted to prioritize you, they would. if they wanted to treat you well, you wouldn’t have to keep asking.

stop interpreting low effort as complexity. it’s not. it’s just low effort. and the longer you keep participating in it, the more your body forgets what it feels like to be respected without having to earn it.

when things feel out of control, your brain reaches for order and attempts to make the behaviour make sense. maybe they’re anxious. maybe they’re busy. maybe they’re just not ready. this story is easier to hold than the truth: maybe they’re just not showing up. when your attachment system is activated, especially if you have an anxious or disorganised attachment style, your prefrontal cortex, the part responsible for rational decision-making, goes offline. the amygdala takes the wheel. you react. you reach. you overfunction. you perform. your nervous system is doing its job: trying to restore connection, even if it means abandoning yourself in the process. the body doesn’t want logic. it wants relief. and chasing someone who keeps pulling away mimics the high-stakes chemistry of early wounds. it’s not connection, it’s repetition.

letting people treat you poorly doesn’t mean you’re passive. it means you’re done arguing with evidence. if someone goes weeks without checking in, let them. if they ghost and come back and ghost again, let them. if they keep showing you that your feelings make them uncomfortable, that your needs are too much, that your boundaries are an inconvenience, stop trying to teach them how to care. let them do what they’re already doing, and watch what it tells you. watch what you’ve been ignoring. people always reveal themselves in patterns, not promises. and trying to manage someone’s behaviour so you don’t have to feel abandoned is not love. it’s self-erasure.

stoic philosophy puts it simply: some things are within our control, and some are not. epictetus didn’t need a trauma-informed lens to understand what most of us spend years denying, your peace doesn’t come from what happens outside you. it comes from no longer trying to control what never belonged to you in the first place. you don’t have to keep them. you don’t have to correct them. you don’t have to convince anyone of your value. and yes, it will be uncomfortable. yes, it will trigger grief. but that grief isn’t about them. it’s about the part of you that still believes if you just do everything right, you’ll finally get what you needed when you were too young to ask for it.

so let them. let them flake. let them disappear. let them ghost. let them cancel last minute and call it “busy.” let them be inconsistent. let them forget to ask how you’re doing. let them not show up. and then stop explaining it away. stop turning their apathy into depth. stop turning their detachment into mystery. stop making excuses for behavior that would disgust you if it came from anyone else. there’s no moral high ground in tolerating disrespect. there’s no prize for staying emotionally available to people who only meet you halfway when it’s convenient for them. the truth is, you’re not too much. you’re just finally unwilling to be in spaces where you have to be less.

you can’t heal in a dynamic that runs on confusion. you can’t build anything with someone who requires you to carry the entire weight of emotional labor while they decide, on and off, if they’re going to participate. and you don’t owe anyone closure, especially not people who mistook your presence for a given.

what you owe is to yourself: a steady nervous system, a baseline of peace, the ability to trust that if something feels off, you don’t have to stick around long enough to find out just how off it really is.

and when they notice you’ve stopped chasing, stopped explaining, stopped asking if everything’s okay, when they feel the silence that used to be filled by your effort and your reach and your overthinking, that’s not your moment to go back.

that’s your confirmation.

that’s the peace that follows when you finally say: let them.

and mean it.