Refusing the Drama Triangle: Choosing Self-Respect Over Performance

Today, I left a situation early. And I don’t regret it.

I wasn’t rude. I was honest. I was tired, a little irritable, and I said so — clearly. I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t blame anyone. I simply acknowledged that I wasn’t in the mood to stay in an environment that was testing my boundaries.

That in itself used to be unthinkable for me.

What played out was the classic Drama Triangle — a dynamic where one person plays the victim, another plays the rescuer, and someone else (usually the one refusing to perform) gets cast as the persecutor. I could feel it happening in real-time. She played the victim, he played the rescuer, and the only role left for me was to be the problem.

But I didn’t bite. I didn’t play.

I had expressed — more than once — that I didn’t want to interact with the dog. I even used humor to soften my boundary: “If she barks at me, I’ll bark back.” That wasn’t aggression. It was clarity dressed in playfulness. And yet, my boundary was ignored.

Somewhere in the background, I imagine the dynamic continuing. Perhaps the helper — maybe without even realising it — said something like, “Alex seemed quite annoyed.” But I wasn’t annoyed because the young person didn’t come downstairs. I was annoyed because the whole performance was deeply familiar. A mother playing victim. A professional playing savior. A young person silenced. And me — cast as the emotionally unstable one for not pretending everything was fine.

What’s maddening is not that the dynamic exists — it’s that everyone seems committed to the script.

It takes energy to leave these situations. Emotional labor. I don’t like being misunderstood. But I’m starting to realise that leaving, with integrity, is better than staying and betraying myself.

My congruence might be uncomfortable for people who are used to performance. But I didn’t create the discomfort — I just refused to help cover it up.

The more regulated I become, the less I’m willing to tolerate roles I didn’t audition for.

Sometimes, the most emotionally intelligent thing you can do is leave the room.
Not to avoid something — but because you finally see what’s really going on.

And you’re done playing the part.