TumbleDweeeb

The Opt-Out
Episode 5
By: Emmitt Owens 
(Index #12292026)

“Tolerance for not knowing is the quiet skill modern relationships no longer teach. It’s the ability to sit inside uncertainty without immediately labeling it, fixing it, or defending against it. It’s trusting that meaning can emerge over time instead of demanding clarity on demand. Relationships don’t unfold through certainty—they unfold through interpretation, patience, and the willingness to stay present without guarantees. When we lose our tolerance for not knowing, every pause feels like a threat, every difference feels like danger, and connection becomes impossible to sustain.”

Why I’ve Decided That Being Alone Is Easier Than Navigating the Psychological Minefield That Is Modern Relationships
I quit.
Not in a dramatic, “I’m swearing off love forever” way. Not in a bitter, “all men/women are trash” way. Not in a “I’m going to become a monk and live in the mountains” way.
Just… I quit.
I’ve learned too much. I’ve read too many articles. I’ve listened to too many podcasts. I’ve been to too much therapy. I understand too much psychology.
And now relationships seem less like “finding your person” and more like “navigating an impossible maze of contradictions where every choice is wrong and everyone thinks they’re right.”
So I’m out.
Let me explain.

The Problem: I Now See All the Patterns
You know what ruins relationships?
Understanding them.
I used to just… be in relationships. Feel things. React. Exist.
Now? Now I’m analyzing everything.

“Is this love or is this trauma bonding?” 
“Is this healthy attachment or codependency?” 
“Is this a boundary or am I being controlling?” 
“Is this me standing up for myself or am I being defensive?” 
“Is this them gaslighting me or did I actually misremember?” 
“Is this a red flag or am I hypervigilant from past trauma?”

I can’t just exist anymore. I can’t just feel. Everything is filtered through this lens of “what does this MEAN psychologically?”
And the worst part?
There are no clear answers.

Contradiction #1: Boundaries vs. Control (And How You’re Always Wrong)

Let’s start with the big one.
I set a boundary: “I need some alone time each week.” 
Response A: “That’s healthy! Self-care!” 
Response B: “You’re being avoidant and refusing intimacy.”

Same boundary. Two completely different interpretations.

Or how about this one:

I say: “I’m not comfortable with you having close friendships with your exes.” 
Response A: “That’s a reasonable boundary. Exes can be complicated.” 
Response B: “You’re being controlling and insecure.”

SAME STATEMENT. Completely opposite judgments.

So which is it?
Am I setting a healthy boundary or being a controlling asshole?
The answer is: it depends on who you ask.
And that’s the problem.
There’s no objective truth. There’s just interpretation.
Your therapist says you’re being healthy. Their therapist says you’re being controlling. Both therapists have degrees. Both therapists are “right.”
And you’re stuck in the middle trying to figure out if you’re the hero or the villain in your own story.

Contradiction #2: Independence vs. Partnership (You Can’t Win)

Society: “You need to be a whole person before you enter a relationship!” 
Also Society: “Marriage is about becoming one!”

Me: “So… be independent but also merge your life with someone?” 
Society: “Yes.”

Me: “But don’t lose yourself!” 
Society: “Correct.”

Me: “But also compromise and sacrifice!” 
Society: “Obviously.”

Me: “So I should be completely self-sufficient but also need them?” 
Society: “Now you’re getting it!”

Me: “I should maintain my own identity but also build a shared life?” 
Society: “Exactly!”

Me: “I should be able to be happy alone but also make them my priority?” 
Society: “You’ve got it!”

WHAT THE FUCK DOES ANY OF THAT MEAN?

You’re supposed to be independent but not TOO independent. You’re supposed to need them but not be NEEDY. You’re supposed to have your own life but also be available. You’re supposed to prioritize the relationship but not lose yourself. You’re supposed to compromise but not sacrifice your boundaries.
It’s a contradiction wrapped in an enigma stuffed inside a self-help book that costs $24.99.
And everyone acts like it makes perfect sense.

Contradiction #3: Communication (Where Honesty Gets You Punished)

Everyone says: “Communication is key! Be honest! Express your feelings!”

So you do.

You say: “I feel insecure when you do X.” 
Response: “That’s your insecurity. You need to work on that.”

Okay, so… be honest but also don’t burden them with your feelings?

You say: “I need more quality time together.” 
Response: “You’re being clingy and codependent.”

Wait, I thought I was supposed to express my needs?

You say: “I’m not comfortable with that.” 
Response: “You’re being controlling.”

But… you said to communicate my boundaries?

You say nothing. 
Response: “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t read your mind!”

SO WHICH THE FUCK IS IT?

Communicate but not too much. Be honest but not TOO honest. Express your needs but don’t be needy. Share your feelings but don’t be emotional. Be vulnerable but not weak.
It’s like playing a game where the rules change based on who’s keeping score.

Contradiction #4: The Past (It Matters Until It Doesn’t)

Them: “Tell me about your past relationships.” 
You: *shares honestly* 
Them: “Wow, you have a lot of baggage.”

Them: “Why didn’t you tell me about your ex?” 
You: “You said I had baggage when I shared before.” 
Them: “I meant I wanted to KNOW, not that you shouldn’t tell me!”

Them: “You need to be over your ex before we can move forward.” 
You: “I am over them.” 
Them: “Then why do you still have photos?” 
You: “Because they were part of my life?” 
Them: “So you’re NOT over them.”

WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME????

Your past matters. But also it shouldn’t matter. But also you need to have learned from it. But also you shouldn’t bring it into this relationship. But also your trauma explains your behavior. But also you can’t use trauma as an excuse. But also healing is important. But also you should be healed before entering a relationship. But also we heal together. But also you need to do your own work.
I’m exhausted just typing this.

Contradiction #5: Psychology Has Become a Weapon

We’ve all learned the language.
Boundaries. Gaslighting. Love bombing. Trauma. Triggers. Emotional labor. Narcissism. Avoidant attachment. Anxious attachment. Stonewalling. Deflecting.
And now everyone uses these words to weaponize normal relationship friction.

You need space? “That’s your avoidant attachment acting up.” 
You need closeness? “That’s your anxious attachment. You’re codependent.” 
You disagree with them? “You’re gaslighting me.” 
You show affection? “You’re love bombing me.” 
You ask for something? “That’s emotional labor.” 
You have needs? “You’re being narcissistic.” 
You express hurt? “You’re trauma dumping.”

EVERYTHING is pathologized. Everything is abuse. Everything is toxic.
And the person who knows the most therapy language usually wins the argument because they can name what you’re doing before you even understand it yourself.

“You’re being defensive.” 
“You’re deflecting.” 
“You’re stonewalling.” 
“You’re projecting.”

And suddenly you’re not having a discussion. You’re being diagnosed.
Once you’re labeled, everything you do gets filtered through that label. The label becomes the explanation. The diagnosis becomes the identity.
And suddenly you’re not a person with needs. You’re an “avoidant” or an “anxious” or a “fearful-avoidant” or whatever combination of trauma and biology created you.
And your partner isn’t trying to understand you. They’re trying to manage your attachment style.

How romantic!

Contradiction #6: Compatibility vs. Work (The Impossible Math)

“Relationships take work!” 
“If it’s meant to be, it’ll be easy!”

WHICH ONE IS IT?

Should I work on the relationship or is the fact that it requires work proof that it’s wrong? 
Should I stay and try or is staying a sign that I’m afraid to leave? 
Should I compromise or am I compromising myself? 
Should I communicate more or am I over-communicating? 
Should I give them space or am I giving up? 
Should I trust them or am I ignoring red flags? 
Should I work on my insecurity or are they actually untrustworthy?

THERE ARE NO CLEAR ANSWERS.

And everyone has an opinion.
Your therapist says one thing. Your friends say another. Reddit says something else entirely. Your mom has thoughts. Self-help books contradict each other.
And you’re just standing there trying to figure out if you should stay or go, if you’re healthy or toxic, if you’re in love or trauma-bonded, if you’re setting boundaries or being controlling.
And there’s no way to know for sure.

The Real Mindfuck: Everyone Is Right (From Their Perspective)

Here’s the thing: In any given relationship conflict, both people genuinely believe they’re right.
And they probably both are. From their perspective. With their history. Through their lens.

You think they’re being controlling. They think they’re setting boundaries. 
You think you’re being independent. They think you’re being avoidant. 
You think you’re communicating. They think you’re criticizing. 
You think you’re expressing needs. They think you’re being demanding.

Both interpretations are valid. Neither is objectively true.
And that’s the fucking problem.
There’s no referee. There’s no rulebook. There’s no objective arbiter of who’s right and who’s wrong.
Just two people with different perspectives, different needs, different trauma, different attachment styles, different communication styles, different expectations.
Trying to build something together while simultaneously believing the other person is doing it wrong.

The Peace of Being Alone
You know what’s nice about being single?

I don’t have to wonder if I’m the asshole.
I don’t have to analyze whether my needs are reasonable or if I’m being controlling.
I don’t have to decode someone else’s behavior to figure out if they’re healthy or toxic.
I don’t have to navigate the impossible contradictions of:
– Being independent but partnered
– Having boundaries but being open
– Needing space but wanting closeness
– Being vulnerable but strong
– Having standards but being flexible

I can just… exist.

Without wondering if my existence is healthy or codependent. 
Without worrying if my alone time is self-care or avoidance. 
Without questioning if my needs are valid or narcissistic. 
Without analyzing if my feelings are intuition or insecurity.

I can just be.

No contradictions. No second-guessing. No psychological warfare disguised as communication.

The Missing Piece (Or: What We’ve Lost)

Ambiguity Definition: Ambiguity is the quality of being open to multiple interpretations or meanings. It’s uncertainty or vagueness where something can be understood in more than one way, with no single “correct” interpretation.

Example from Everyday Life:

Your partner says: “I need some space.”
This statement is ambiguous because it could mean:
– Physical space: “I want to spend this evening alone in another room”
– Emotional distance: “I’m feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of our relationship”
– Time apart: “I need a few days without seeing each other”
– Freedom/independence: “I feel like I’m losing myself and need to reconnect with my own identity”
– Beginning of a breakup: “I’m pulling away because I’m having doubts”

The same three words carry completely different implications depending on: the context, the person’s history, their communication style, your relationship dynamic, your own insecurities or past experiences.

The problem in modern relationships: Instead of asking “What do you mean by that?” and accepting the inherent ambiguity, we now rush to diagnose it:
– “That’s avoidant attachment talking”
– “You’re stonewalling me”
– “This is a red flag”

We try to eliminate the ambiguity by labeling it, when relationships actually require tolerance for ambiguity—the ability to sit with not knowing exactly what something means and working it out together through dialogue rather than diagnosis.

Here’s what I’ve realized:

Relationships always required navigating ambiguity.
Our grandparents didn’t have “attachment theory.” They didn’t know what “gaslighting” was. They couldn’t diagnose themselves as “avoidant” or “anxious.”
But they still dealt with the same exact tensions:
– Closeness versus independence
– Vulnerability versus self-protection
– Individual needs versus partnership needs
– Communication versus space

The struggles were identical.
The difference?
They didn’t have words to weaponize their confusion. They couldn’t pathologize each other’s behavior. They couldn’t turn every disagreement into a diagnostic session.

They just had to… figure it out. Muddle through. Feel their way forward. Make mistakes without knowing the clinical term for what they were doing wrong.
And maybe that was easier.
Not because they understood relationships better.
But because they understood them less.
They couldn’t see all the patterns. They couldn’t name all the dysfunctions. They couldn’t analyze every interaction through a psychological framework.
So they just… existed in the relationship. Felt things. Reacted. Tried to make it work without a diagnostic manual.
And I’m not saying that was healthier. I’m not romanticizing the past. I’m not saying ignorance is bliss.
But there’s something we’ve lost.

The ability to just be in a relationship without constantly evaluating whether we’re doing it correctly.

The ability to have a conflict without immediately pathologizing it.

The ability to struggle without turning it into a symptom.

We’ve gained language. We’ve lost spontaneity. 
We’ve gained awareness. We’ve lost the ability to just feel without analyzing whether our feelings are valid. 
We’ve gained diagnostic precision. We’ve lost the tolerance for ambiguity that relationships require.

Because here’s the truth: Relationships are ambiguity machines.
They live in the space between clear categories:
– Between healthy and unhealthy
– Between boundary and control
– Between communication and criticism
– Between independence and avoidance

And psychology wants clarity. Diagnosis. Categories. Clear answers.
But relationships don’t offer that. They never did. They never will.
And maybe our grandparents had it easier because they didn’t expect clarity. They didn’t think there was a “right” way to do relationships.
They just knew it was hard. And confusing. And contradictory.

And they did it anyway.

Without needing to know if they were the villain or the victim. 
Without needing to diagnose their partner’s attachment style. 
Without needing to determine if their needs were valid or narcissistic.

They just… lived in the mess.
And that’s what we’ve lost.

The ability to live in the mess without needing to solve it.
The ability to exist in ambiguity without needing to categorize it.
The ability to love someone without needing to decode them.

We’ve become so psychologically sophisticated that we’ve made ourselves incapable of the one thing relationships require:

Tolerance for not knowing.
And that’s the real tragedy.
Not that relationships are hard.
But that we’ve made them impossible by demanding they be understandable.

The Irony

All this knowledge that was supposed to help us have healthier relationships has made relationships seem impossible.
We’ve learned all the words for what can go wrong. We’ve identified all the patterns of dysfunction. We’ve cataloged all the red flags. We’ve pathologized all the behaviors.
And now we’re all standing around with our checklists and our therapy language and our attachment style diagnoses…
Unable to actually connect with anyone because we’re too busy analyzing whether the connection is healthy.
We’ve become so self-aware that we’ve made ourselves relationship-paralyzed.

The Conclusion (Or Lack Thereof)

So here I am.
Single.

Not because I’m damaged (though I probably am). 
Not because I’m afraid of commitment (though I might be). 
Not because I’m too picky (though that’s debatable).

But because I’ve learned too much. I understand too much. I see all the contradictions.

I know that every behavior can be interpreted as either healthy or toxic depending on the lens. 
I know that boundaries and control can look identical. 
I know that communication can be either honest or attacking. 
I know that independence can be either healthy or avoidant. 
I know that every relationship is a constant negotiation of contradictions that have no clear answers.

And I’m tired.

So I’m opting out.
Not forever, maybe. But for now.

Until I can figure out how to be in a relationship without needing a psychological decoder ring. 
Until I can stop analyzing every interaction for hidden meaning. 
Until I can just feel without wondering if my feelings are valid or trauma-based. 
Until I can just exist with someone without constantly wondering if I’m the villain or the victim.
Until relationships make sense again.

Which, let’s be honest, they probably never will.

To everyone still trying: Good luck. You’re braver than me. Or more naive. Or maybe just less aware of the contradictions.

Either way, I hope you figure it out.

I hope you find someone where the contradictions don’t matter. 
I hope you find a relationship where you can just be, without constantly analyzing whether you’re being correct. 
I hope you find someone who interprets your boundaries as boundaries and not control. 
I hope you find someone whose trauma doesn’t trigger your trauma. 
I hope you find someone where “work” feels like partnership, not psychological warfare.

I really do.

But me?

I’ll be over here. Alone.
With absolute certainty that at least I’m not gaslighting myself.
(Or am I? Fuck, I don’t even know anymore.)

THE END

(Or is it a boundary? Or am I being avoidant?)
(See? This is the problem.)

—

Author’s Note: The real insight here isn’t that relationships are hard.

It’s this: Modern relational language has removed ambiguity—but relationships are ambiguity machines.
And the unbearable tension lives here:
– Psychology wants clarity.
– Relationships live in interpretation.
– Interpretation means no one is ever fully wrong.
– Which means no one is ever fully safe.

And this is why I’ve opted out of relationships.
Period.