<\/p>\n
Sometimes the most meaningful shifts in health don\u2019t begin with a new supplement or a perfect diet. One of my most profound changes<\/a> didn\u2019t start in the kitchen or the gym at all. I realized that how I was showing up in my relationships, parenting, and even my work at Wellness Mama was sometimes doing myself and others a disservice.\u00a0<\/p>\n This awareness didn\u2019t come all at once, and it certainly didn\u2019t come easily. In fact, it came with a lot of humility and, at times, a surprising amount of grief. But with the hard realizations also came clarity. The self-reflection helped give me a new lens to understand not only my past choices, but how I want to show up going forward.\u00a0<\/p>\n At the center of that shift is something called the drama triangle. I\u2019ll explain what I mean by that, and how it\u2019s helped me to understand and make better relationship choices. I hope that something in this message will resonate with you and give you a fresh perspective, like it did me. Not only has this framework helped me have healthier relationships<\/a> with those around me, but also with myself.\u00a0<\/p>\n The drama triangle is a framework that describes three common roles people tend to rotate through in relationships. These include the victim, the perpetrator (or persecutor), and the savior (or rescuer). What struck me most as I learned about this concept isn\u2019t just that these roles exist, but how easily (and often unconsciously) we move between them.<\/p>\n I used to think of these roles as fixed identities. That someone was a victim, or was controlling, or was overly helpful. However, I\u2019ve come to understand that these aren\u2019t static labels. They\u2019re patterns of behavior and language we step into, sometimes multiple times a day.<\/p>\n And if I\u2019m being honest, I could find examples of myself in all three.<\/p>\n For me, the victim role showed up most clearly during my struggle with Hashimoto\u2019s. <\/a>I remember how strongly I identified with being \u201csick.\u201d That identity shaped not only how I felt, but how I spoke, to myself and to others.<\/p>\n My language at the time reflected this mindset in subtle but powerful ways. I often found myself saying things like \u201cI have Hashimoto\u2019s,\u201d or \u201cMy body hates me.\u201d I believed that if I could just find the right doctor or protocol, everything would change. At the time, this felt logical and even proactive. <\/p>\n Of course, I wanted answers and healing. But what I didn\u2019t realize was how much I was placing the power for that healing outside of myself. I was outsourcing my agency to something external that I hoped would fix what I believed was broken.<\/p>\n While I didn\u2019t think of myself in the perpetrator role, I can now see how often I stepped into that role. Especially when I felt frustrated or overwhelmed.<\/p>\n For me, this often looked like wanting to \u201cfight\u201d something outside of myself. Sometimes that was big food<\/a>, big pharma, government systems, or another perceived external problem. It also showed up in my language, especially in moments of stress, when phrases like \u201cyou should\u201d or \u201cwhy can\u2019t you just\u2026\u201d would surface. Underneath that language was often a sense of urgency, a need for things to be done a certain way. I had a desire to be right or to correct what I perceived as wrong.<\/p>\n There\u2019s often a subtle (or not so subtle) energy of control here. A belief that if others would just do things the \u201cright\u201d way, things would improve. And while it can feel justified in the moment, I\u2019ve come to see how this role can create distance and disconnect us from empathy and curiosity.<\/p>\n If I\u2019m being completely honest, the role I lived in the longest, and the one that felt the most \u201cright\u201d at the time, was the savior.<\/p>\n This one is tricky because it often looks kind, sounds helpful, and even feels good in the moment. For me, it showed up as a constant tendency to offer advice, often without being asked. I liked to jump in quickly to fix problems before they even had a chance to unfold. I took on responsibilities that weren\u2019t necessarily mine and said yes to things even when my body was signaling no.<\/p>\n In parenting<\/a>, this meant stepping in to solve problems for my kids instead of allowing them to work through challenges. In work, it looked like micromanaging or over-functioning, believing I was helping while unintentionally limiting others\u2019 growth. Then getting upset when I felt others weren\u2019t pulling their weight. In relationships, it often meant carrying emotional burdens that weren\u2019t mine to hold.<\/p>\n Beneath all of this was a belief I didn\u2019t consciously recognize at the time. That if I could just help enough, fix enough, or do enough, everything would feel stable and okay. Over time, that pattern led not only to burnout and resentment but also to a subtle form of disconnection, from others and from myself.<\/p>\n One of the most eye-opening realizations for me was that these roles don\u2019t exist in isolation. They actually depend on each other in a kind of ongoing loop.<\/p>\n Without a rescuer stepping in, the dynamic between victim and perpetrator might naturally resolve more quickly. But when someone enters as the savior, trying to help, fix, or ease discomfort, it can unintentionally prolong the cycle. This can remove the opportunity for growth or resolution.<\/p>\n I began to see this pattern reflected across different areas of my life. In parenting, for example, when one of my children expressed frustration or struggled with something, I often stepped in immediately to solve it. While this brought short-term relief, it also meant they didn\u2019t always get the chance to build the skills<\/a> they needed to navigate those challenges themselves. Then the same frustrations would resurface again and the cycle repeats.<\/p>\n In relationships, I noticed a similar rhythm. One person might feel overwhelmed or exhausted<\/a>, which would prompt the other to step in and take on more responsibility. Over time, this imbalance could lead to burnout and resentment, eventually shifting into criticism or blame, and then the roles would reverse again.<\/p>\n Even in my work, I could see how my desire to help sometimes led me to step in too quickly. I would identify a need, take action, and then feel frustrated when others didn\u2019t step up. All without recognizing that I hadn\u2019t created the space for them to do so. In each of these scenarios, what seemed like a helpful intervention was often part of what kept the cycle going.<\/p>\n About a year ago, I had an experience that I still find difficult to fully put into words. It was one of those moments that felt both deeply personal and profoundly clarifying. I became aware (viscerally aware) of the times I had given advice without being asked.<\/p>\n Not just aware in a cognitive sense, but almost as if I could feel the impact of those moments. Times when I thought I was helping, but may have actually taken away someone\u2019s autonomy or interrupted their process. There\u2019s no other way to describe it except to say it was painful.\u00a0<\/p>\n And from that experience came something I now think of as the law of request.<\/p>\n At its core, the law of request is simple: Help lands best when it\u2019s invited.<\/p>\n That doesn\u2019t mean we never share, support, or offer ideas. However, it does mean we pause long enough to ask whether what we\u2019re about to offer has actually been requested. Whether we\u2019re sharing for the other person\u2019s benefit or to relieve our own discomfort. If we\u2019re honoring the other person\u2019s agency in the process.<\/p>\n This realization has shifted how I show up in almost every area of my life.<\/p>\n Instead of immediately offering solutions, I now try to pause and ask questions that create space rather than close it. I might ask whether someone wants ideas or simply someone to listen<\/a>. I make an effort to pause before responding, to seek consent before sharing advice, and to trust that others are capable of navigating their own path. I realized that I can\u2019t assume I know what\u2019s best for another person, that I know their body and their situation better than they do.\u00a0<\/p>\n This shift has been especially meaningful in parenting. Rather than jumping in to fix, I practice asking my kids what they\u2019ve already tried, what they think might help, or how I can support them in a way that feels most helpful to them. And while it isn\u2019t always easy, especially when it\u2019s someone you love who is struggling, I\u2019ve noticed that when I step back, they often step forward in ways that surprise me.<\/p>\n One of the most practical ways I\u2019ve been working to step out of the drama triangle is by shifting my language. This means both internally and externally. Our thoughts and ideas shape our language, and vice versa. If we want to change our feelings and behaviors, it starts with changing our language.\u00a0<\/p>\n Instead of framing things as fixed identity statements like \u201cI am anxious,\u201d I\u2019ve been practicing language that reflects temporary experience. As in, \u201cI feel anxiety right now.\u201d This subtle shift creates space between who I am and what I\u2019m experiencing, reminding me that feelings can move and change rather than define me.<\/p>\n The word should used to appear frequently in my thoughts and conversations, often without me even noticing. Now, I see it as a signal to pause and reframe. Rather than saying \u201cyou should try this,\u201d I might instead ask if someone would be open to an idea. This keeps the focus on choice rather than control.<\/p>\n This has been one of the most meaningful shifts for me. Instead of jumping in with solutions or advice, I\u2019ve been practicing simply being present. That might look like offering a listening ear, asking a thoughtful question, or sometimes saying nothing at all and allowing space for someone else\u2019s experience to unfold without interruption.<\/p>\n As I\u2019ve become more aware of these patterns, I\u2019ve also realized how many times in the past I showed up in ways that weren\u2019t aligned with how I want to live now. And while I can\u2019t change those moments, I can acknowledge them.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve found it helpful to practice simple repair language in real time, especially when I notice myself slipping into old patterns. This might look like acknowledging that I jumped into fixing and apologizing for it, then asking whether the other person wants support or space. Other times, it\u2019s as simple as asking how I can best show up for someone in that moment. There\u2019s something deeply grounding about naming what\u2019s happening without trying to justify it. It creates an opportunity to reconnect in a more intentional way.<\/p>\n This isn\u2019t about becoming a completely different person overnight. It\u2019s about noticing and becoming more aware.\u00a0<\/p>\nWhat Is the Drama Triangle?<\/h2>\n
The Victim Role: When Power Feels Outside of Us<\/h3>\n
The Perpetrator Role: When Control Creeps In<\/h3>\n
The Sneaky Role I Lived In the Most<\/h2>\n
The Savior Role: When Helping Isn\u2019t Actually Helpful<\/h3>\n
How These Roles Keep Each Other Alive<\/h2>\n
The Moment That Changed Everything<\/h2>\n
The Law of Request: A New Way of Showing Up<\/h2>\n
What This Changed for Me<\/h3>\n
Language Shifts That Make a Difference<\/h2>\n
From Identity to Experience<\/h3>\n
From \u201cShould\u201d to Choice<\/h3>\n
From Fixing to Witnessing<\/h3>\n
Learning to Repair (Instead of Being Perfect)<\/h2>\n
Stepping Off the Drama Triangle in Everyday Life<\/h2>\n