Unclarity at the Root of the Pattern
Imagine a person who finds themselves in the same story again and again: coming together, anxiety, breakup, longing, return — and round the circle once more. From the outside it looks like chance, bad luck, "just keeps running into the wrong people." But Dr. Saulitis sees it differently. He sees not chance here, but a system — and a system that is held together by a lack of clarity.
The mechanism is simple, though unflattering to the ego: if you don't know exactly what you're looking for, you can't choose what's right for you. You take whatever comes along, call it "a relationship," and then wonder why it doesn't work. The doctor puts it in the most concrete terms:
"You need to get concrete about what you mean by relationships. What is it? Because sex alone isn't a reason to be acquainted. And the more clarity, the better."
This isn't a reproach or moralizing. It's a pointer to a tool. Imagine going to a hardware store for a tool, but not knowing what you're fixing — an outlet or a faucet. The salesperson won't be able to help you, you'll grab random things, and none of them will fit. The same thing happens in relationships: if "relationship" for you is a vague cloud made up of not wanting to be alone, physical closeness, habit, fear of silent evenings, and a vague hope that "maybe it'll work out" — you'll attract equally vague partners with equally vague expectations. And vague rarely adds up to something solid with vague.
Getting concrete isn't a bureaucratic questionnaire. It's an honest conversation with yourself: what does it mean to me to be close to someone? What am I willing to give, and what do I want to receive? What level of closeness do I need — daily contact or space for myself? Do I want a partnership for years, or is lightness and freedom more important to me right now? Until these questions are asked, anyone who simply "feels right" will be perceived as "the one" — and then, once the feeling passes, will turn out to be a stranger.
In life this often looks like this: a person meets a partner, feels attraction, mistakes it for love, builds a relationship on this foundation, and after a while discovers that their values don't match, their life plans differ, and aside from physical intimacy there isn't much to talk about. A breakup follows. After a while — longing, a sense that "still, it was good," and a return. And the same walls again, because the underlying lack of understanding never actually went anywhere.
The practical step here is not to search for the perfect partner, but first to find clarity within yourself. Before re-entering contact or returning to a former partner, it helps to answer a few simple questions for yourself in writing: what do I call a relationship? What is unacceptable to me? What am I willing to tolerate, and what am I not? This work doesn't guarantee an instant result, but it moves you out of the fog into visible territory. And once you can see the road, it's much easier not to keep walking in circles.
Fear of Rejection as a Trap
The second pillar of the cycle is fear. Many people remain in the pattern of leaving and returning not because they have nowhere else to go, but because the very thought of trying again — meeting someone new, opening up to another person — triggers inner paralysis. Fear of rejection pushes them to hold on to the familiar, even when the familiar causes pain. Better a known pain than the unknown — that's how the psyche reasons when it's afraid.