Sovereignty in Relationships
Co-Creating Without Losing Yourself
Have you ever been in a relationship that cracked you wide open? Maybe it lifted you to heights you didn’t know existed—or dropped you into depths you didn’t think you’d survive. Relationships are like that. They teach us in ways nothing else can.
The wrong ones often teach us the most. They show us our patterns, our fears, and the shadows we try so hard to avoid. They push us to hold onto ourselves, even when everything inside us wants to grasp for validation, approval, or control.
It’s not easy. Emotions, unspoken expectations, and old wounds complicate things. But the question remains:
How can we show up fully, as ourselves, without losing ourselves?
Each of us embodies certain archetypes in our lives. As I mentioned in my previous post, for years, I played the exile, the warrior, and the wounded healer—each with its own form of grasping. The exile hides, the warrior strives, and the wounded healer over-helps. These patterns, born from fear and unresolved wounds, kept me searching for something outside of myself.
Eventually, I realized sovereignty isn’t about grasping. It’s about being.
The king archetype embodies this energy: secure, grounded, and unshaken by the need for external validation. In relationships, this looks a lot like secure attachment. It’s the ability to connect deeply without depending on someone else to define you.
But sovereignty also requires discernment. I’ve always had a strong sense of empathy—so strong that I can physically feel another’s pain. As a child, the sight of a wound sent painful tingles through my calves and up my spine. I knew early on I couldn’t be a doctor because I’d take on too much of others’ suffering.
That’s where boundaries come in. Empathy opens the door to understanding another person, but it’s easy to overstep. We can’t compromise our integrity by people-pleasing, lowering our standards, or making excuses for harmful behavior. There’s a difference between helping someone and trying to fix them. Sovereignty means knowing the difference. It’s about offering support where it’s appropriate—without losing yourself in the process.
The Slippery Slope: Standards, Expectations, and Boundaries
In theory, it sounds simple: set boundaries, communicate expectations, and hold yourself to clear standards. In practice? It’s super messy.
Relationships aren’t just rational agreements. They’re emotional, irrational, and filled with the invisible—things left unsaid, truths omitted, and feelings projected. I call this the domain of the invisible, which is partly why I named this blog “Beyond the Visible.”
Omitted truths can be as deceptive as outright lies. If we’re not paying attention, we might convince ourselves the emperor is fully clothed when he’s not wearing a thing. Sovereignty means developing the awareness to see through illusions, especially when we’ve placed someone on a pedestal. Taking off those rose-colored glasses isn’t easy, but it’s necessary if we want to see clearly.
The Masculine and Feminine Dance
Masculine and feminine energies play a natural role in relationships. The feminine often tests the masculine, looking for strength, integrity, and consistency. The masculine, in turn, tests the feminine, seeking care, tenderness, and respect.
These tests aren’t manipulations. They’re ways we unconsciously seek balance. When these energies are in harmony, relationships feel expansive. But when they’re not, the tension can escalate quickly.
This is especially true in relationships involving difficult personality traits, like those associated with Cluster B disorders. These dynamics amplify emotional chaos. Gaslighting, blame-shifting, triangulation, emotional volatility, and so much more, can make it hard to stay grounded. In these moments, sovereignty means holding firm to your boundaries, staying rooted in reality, and refusing to be pulled into someone else’s storm.
The Cry for Love
Even in the most confusing or chaotic relationships, I’ve learned that at the core of it all, there’s a cry for love. We all want to be seen. We all want to feel valued—not just for what we do, but for who we are.
And yet, after years of striving, I’ve asked myself: What do I do with the disappointment of not being seen? Society often rewards external accomplishments—a pat on the back, a polite compliment, or maybe even flattery if you’ve achieved financial success. But how often are we seen for the heart of who we are?
Sovereignty here means something deeper. It means creating space for the unexpressed parts of us—the inner child who still wants to feel loved and safe. It means allowing the inner child the space to exist and express itself, but within protected boundaries, so they’re not at the mercy of others’ judgments.
Avoiding Over-Responsibility
One of the hardest lessons in relationships is realizing where your responsibility ends.
When someone is struggling or acting from a place of dysfunction—like with Cluster B traits—it’s easy to slip into the role of fixer or rescuer. But sovereignty doesn’t mean taking on the weight of someone else’s healing. You can care deeply without overextending.
Enabling toxic patterns only reinforces them. Sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is step back. Other times, it’s setting a firm boundary. And in some cases, it’s walking away entirely to protect your own well-being.
Relationships as Mirrors
Relationships will test you. They’ll pull at your edges, push your buttons, and sometimes leave you questioning who you are. They’ll hold up a mirror and force you to see yourself—not the polished version you like to show the world, but the raw, unfiltered truth of your fears, wounds, and longings.
And yet, relationships are also where we grow. They show us what we’re capable of: the strength to set boundaries, the courage to stay open, and the wisdom to walk away when we need to.
Sovereignty in relationships doesn’t mean building walls to keep others out. It means standing so firmly in your own truth that you can open your heart without losing your center. It’s choosing to show up—not to fix, grasp, or control, but to be.
So, ask yourself: When you look into the mirror of your relationships, what do you see? Do you see someone grasping for love, or someone grounded in the quiet power of their sovereignty?
The dance of connection is messy. It’s imperfect. And it’s beautiful. The real work isn’t avoiding the mess—it’s finding your footing and showing up, over and over again, with your heart wide open.