When You’re Hurting but They’re Exploding: How to Stay Grounded When Your Partner Can’t Handle Your Pain
Understanding emotional volatility, reactivity, and how to speak to the pain behind the blow-up
It started with tears. Not hers—his.
She was crying, but he was the one who became emotionally unhinged. His voice got loud. His hands clenched. He stood up and started pacing.
He wasn’t mad at her, he insisted. He just didn’t know what to do with her pain.
This wasn’t the first time. Every time she tried to open up, she felt more alone afterward than before she started. Not because he left. But because he wasn’t there.
She said it best, finally, through her own tears:
“Why is it that every time I try to let you in, you fall apart?”
Why They React Like This: It’s Not About You—It’s About Their Family System
Emotionally explosive people aren’t just dramatic for the sake of drama. There’s a story there. A system. A loop they never learned how to exit.
If your partner can’t sit with your pain, chances are someone couldn’t sit with theirs.
Maybe they grew up where crying led to chaos.
Maybe they were the kid wiping their parent’s tears, holding the family together with duct tape and anxiety.
Maybe emotions were either mocked or weaponized—no in-between.
But even deeper than all of that?
They may have internalized their parents’ conflict cycle and secretly fear that they’re unlovable in the same way one of their parents was.
So your pain doesn’t just make them uncomfortable—it threatens their sense of worth.
Cue the storyline:
If I upset you, I’m going to be left.
If you’re hurting, I must be the reason.
If I can’t fix this, I don’t deserve love.
So they yell. Or freeze. Or twist the conversation into a pretzel of defensiveness.
And now you’re in a fight instead of in connection.
The Three Most Common Reactive Archetypes
1. The Fixer
Can’t handle helplessness. Solves to self-soothe.
Motto: “Let me just fix it so I don’t have to feel how powerless I am.”
2. The Defender
Gets defensive when they feel blamed (even when they’re not).
Motto: “If I admit I hurt you, I might have to feel all the ways I’ve been hurt too.”
3. The Volcano
Floods with emotion and lashes out.
Motto: “If I blow up first, I won’t have to feel small.”
Behind all of them?
Shame masquerading as strategy.
They’re not fighting with you—they’re fighting the fear that they’re not enough.
What You Can Do When They Can’t Handle Your Pain
a) Start With Their Pain Narrative (Even When You’re Bleeding Internally)
This is the judo move. You lead with their fear.
“I know this might make you feel like you’ve failed me—but that’s not what this is about. I just want to let you in.”
Why does this work?
Because you’re disarming the defense before it launches.
You’re not coddling them. You’re speaking to the part of them that never learned how to feel safe in emotional proximity.
b) Use Grounding Language Instead of Verbal Grenades
Let’s stop lighting matches around gas leaks.
Avoid:
“You always…”
“You never…”
“You don’t care…”
Try:
“This isn’t about blame. It’s about being seen.”
“I don’t need you to fix anything—I just need to feel like I’m not doing this alone.”
c) Know When to Hit Pause Instead of the Panic Button
If they’re spinning out, don’t chase them into the tornado. Press pause.
“Let’s take 20. I want to talk when we both feel safer.”
This isn’t avoidance—it’s emotional CPR.
d) Adjust the Bar: Expect Growth, Not Perfection
Your partner might never be great in the moment—but they might be excellent in the reflection.
Look at how they repair, not just how they react.
That’s where growth lives.
Reactivity Is Just Fear in a Loud Costume
When someone explodes at your pain, it’s not because they want to hurt you.
It’s because they’re trying not to feel like they failed you.
This is inner-child panic in adult form.
They were trained—by life, by family—to believe:
“If I can’t make it better, I don’t matter.”
So they overcompensate with control, deflect, or defensiveness.
But connection never lives there.
You don’t have to join them in the spiral.
You can offer a step-ladder instead.
When Substance Use Becomes the Escape Route
Sometimes your partner doesn’t explode. They just...vanish.
They numb out. Pour a drink. Light up. Pop a pill. Disappear into distraction.
And now you’re not even fighting—you’re just alone in the room with someone who isn’t really there.
Substance use isn’t always wild behavior. Sometimes it’s just an emotional mute button:
Shame? Muted.
Helplessness? Muted.
Responsibility? Muted.
They’re not escaping you. They’re escaping the belief that they’ll never get it right. They are escaping feeling hopeless that they can enact change in the system…
You’re not responsible for their sobriety. But you are allowed to set boundaries with their avoidance.
Try:
“I get that this helps you feel less overwhelmed—but I’m left alone when you check out.”
“It seems like you turn the dial down to feel better—but it turns down connection too.”
“I can’t open up when you’re numbing. I need you present, not pacified.”
This isn’t about control. It’s about not losing yourself to someone else’s coping strategy.
Final Thought: You’re Not Asking for Too Much—You’re Asking at the Wrong Time
You’re not crazy.
You’re not needy.
You’re not dramatic.
Ok maybe a little dramatic…
You’re asking for connection.
You’re asking to feel emotionally safe.
You’re asking someone to meet you where it hurts.
But if they’re emotionally underwater, they can’t lifeguard for you. They have to come up for air first.
Don’t demand calm—model it.
Don’t beg for empathy—invite safety.
Don’t take their spiral personally—name the system it came from.
You’re doing the courageous work of breaking cycles. That deserves way more respect than you probably give yourself credit for.
Remember my article on differentiation? Check it out here if you haven’t.
2. Differentiation 101: The Key to Breaking Free Without Burning Bridges
Breaking free from family patterns doesn’t mean cutting everyone off or turning into a lone wolf.
For the Person Who’s Thinking, “Why Do I Have to Be the Grown-Up Here?”
Let’s just call it what it is:
Sometimes being the emotionally mature one sucks.
Especially when you’re the one bleeding out emotionally, and you have to pause and say, “Wait, before I collapse—let me cushion the fall for you.”
You might be thinking:
“Why do I have to validate their pain when they can’t even sit with mine?”
“Why do I always have to hold the emotional clipboard in this relationship?”
“When is it my turn to be held, supported, and seen?”
These questions are fair. Honest. And real.
But here’s the deal:
Being emotionally strategic isn’t giving up your needs. It’s creating the only environment where they might actually be met.
You’re not giving in. You’re playing chess, not checkers.
Ask yourself:
Am I trying to be heard by someone who’s emotionally hijacked?
Is this the best moment to push—or to plant a seed?
If I want something to shift, am I interacting with the system in a way that makes that possible?
You don’t have to martyr yourself. But you can choose to break the loop.
Not because it’s fair.
Not because you’re “the bigger person.”
But because it works.
And the more you model that emotional courage? The more your partner gets a front-row seat to what it actually means to show up.
That’s how you build the relationship you’ve been asking for.
Even if it starts with you.