The Devil You Know Vs The Devil You Don't, And What Stops You From Finding The Heaven You Want

There is a phrase people often lean on when they feel torn between staying and leaving—better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. It sounds practical, even wise on the surface, as if it reflects a mature understanding of risk, disappointment, and the unpredictability of life. And yet, in my work, I have seen how often this belief does not protect people, but rather keeps them anchored in situations that slowly drain them—relationships that diminish them, workplaces that exhaust them, dynamics that ask them to tolerate far more than they would ever consciously choose. What begins as a strategy for stability becomes, over time, a justification for remaining exactly where they are, even when every part of them senses that something is not right.

What is rarely questioned, however, is the assumption hidden within that phrase—that the only alternative to the current “devil” is another version of the same.

That the world is, in essence, limited to different shades of dissatisfaction, and that the best one can do is pick the version that feels most manageable. But what if that is not the choice in front of you at all? What if the real decision is not between one difficult reality and another, but between staying as you are—with the same fears, the same patterns, the same emotional undercurrents—and becoming someone who is capable of recognising, choosing, and sustaining something profoundly different? Because until that shift happens, it is not that better options do not exist—it is that they remain invisible, inaccessible, or even threatening to the very person who longs for them.

If You Leave Without Changing… Why Would Your Next ‘Devil’ Be Any Different?

One of the most confronting realisations for people who find themselves repeating the same painful experiences—across different relationships, different workplaces, even entirely different stages of life—is that the change in external circumstances does not automatically translate into a change in outcome. The faces are different, the environments may initially feel refreshing, and there is often a period of relief—a sense that this time it will be different. And yet, over time, the same dynamics begin to re-emerge. The same feelings resurface. The same frustrations, disappointments, and patterns take shape again. This is precisely why the phrase “the devil you know versus the devil you don’t” has endured—it reflects a lived experience many people have had, where leaving did not lead to something better, but simply to something familiar in a new form.

The difficulty lies in understanding why this happens. People rarely make conscious choices to enter into situations that will hurt them or limit them. What they do, however, is gravitate toward what feels familiar on a deeper, often unexamined level. Human beings can adapt to almost anything, including environments that are emotionally draining, subtly disrespectful, or persistently unfulfilling. In doing so, they develop ways of coping, navigating, and surviving within those dynamics. These learned responses do not disappear simply because the context changes. When someone leaves one situation without addressing the internal patterns that shaped how they engaged with it—their boundaries, their expectations, their sense of self-worth, their tolerance for certain behaviours—they carry those patterns directly into the next environment. And because those patterns remain intact, they unconsciously align with people and systems that can accommodate, mirror, or even exploit them in similar ways.

This is why the beginning of something new can feel so deceptively hopeful. There is often a period where nothing appears wrong—where the absence of immediate pressure or conflict creates the impression of real change. But most relationships and environments do not reveal their full dynamics instantly; they unfold over time, in response to interaction, tolerance, and behaviour. As the new system begins to “learn” who you are—what you accept, what you overlook, how you respond to discomfort—it adjusts accordingly. And if you have not changed in any meaningful internal way, the likelihood is that you will find yourself navigating a very similar experience, just with different details. The painful conclusion many people reach—“this is happening again”—is not a reflection of bad luck or coincidence, but of an unbroken pattern where the external world continues to mirror an internal reality that has yet to shift.

The Devil You Know: Is It Really Safer… Or Have You Just Learned How Much Poison You Can Tolerate?

What we often call “safety” in these situations is not safety at all—it is familiarity, dressed up in a way that makes it easier to stay. It is the kind of environment where nothing shocks you anymore, where the patterns are predictable, where you already know how the other person will react, how the system will respond, how far things will go… and, more importantly, how much of it you can take. It’s a bit like taking in a small dose of poison every single day—not enough to take you out, not enough to make you walk away, but just enough that your system learns to live with it. You adjust. You brace yourself. You find ways to cope. And over time, you stop questioning whether this is good for you, and instead focus on how to manage it better.

And then something new comes along—something different, something that doesn’t follow the same rules—and instead of relief, what many people feel is discomfort, even unease. Because now the poison is gone, but so is the map. There is no reference point, no learned strategy, no sense of control over how things will unfold. And strangely enough, that lack of familiarity can feel far more threatening than the thing that has been slowly draining you all along. So we stay—not because it is good, not because it is right, but because we have already done the hard work of learning how to survive it… and starting again, even in something better, feels like stepping into the unknown without knowing who we are going to be in it.

If You Already Know It’s Wrong… Why Do You Still Stay?

And this is where things start to feel confusing for many people—because once you do see it, once you do recognise that something isn’t right, the natural expectation is that you would act on that awareness. That you would leave, change something, draw a line, do something different. And yet… you don’t. Or not fully. Or not in a way that actually shifts the situation. You find yourself still there, still engaging, still tolerating, still hoping that somehow things might improve or feel different over time. And it’s in that space that people begin to question themselves—“I can see this isn’t good for me… so why am I still here?”

Because knowing is cognitive… but staying is emotional.

We like to believe that once we understand something, we should be able to act on it. That insight should lead to action. That clarity should lead to change. But if that were true, no one would smoke, no one would stay in draining relationships, no one would remain in environments that slowly chip away at them. It’s written on the box, it’s visible in the experience, it’s obvious in hindsight—and yet, people stay. Not because they don’t know, but because there is something deeper underneath that knowledge, something that feels far more real, far more convincing in the moment. These are the emotional undercurrents—the beliefs, the wounds, the internal narratives that have been shaping how you see yourself and what you expect from others long before you ever found yourself in this particular situation.

And these undercurrents are not loud. They don’t present themselves as clear thoughts you can argue with. They show up as feelings that feel like truth. Maybe this is just how relationships are. Maybe I’m expecting too much. Maybe I’m not that easy to be with. Maybe I won’t find better. Maybe this is as good as it gets. And before you even realise it, you are no longer making a conscious choice—you are responding to something that feels deeply familiar, even if it is uncomfortable, even if it is painful. Because in a strange way, it makes sense within the world you have learned to navigate.

This is why you can sit there, fully aware that something is not right, and still feel unable to move. Because the part of you that knows better is not the part of you that has learned how to survive, how to attach, how to protect itself from rejection, from abandonment, from not being enough.

And until those deeper layers are understood, explored, and gradually healed, the same patterns will continue to pull you back— because, on some level, they still feel like home.

What If ‘Heaven’ Showed Up Tomorrow… Would You Even Recognise It?

This is where it becomes even more uncomfortable—because it is not only that people stay in what they know, but that when something different does appear, they often don’t recognise it for what it is.

You know those moments where something feels off, but you can’t quite explain why… except this time, nothing is actually wrong?

The person is consistent. The environment is respectful. There is no tension to manage, no hidden agenda to decode, no subtle pressure to adjust yourself.

And instead of relief, what shows up is suspicion. A sense that something doesn’t quite add up. That it’s “too good,” or that it won’t last, or that you’re missing something.

Because when your system has been shaped around navigating discomfort, you develop a kind of fluency in it—you know how to read it, how to respond to it, how to survive it. But take that away, and suddenly you’re left without a familiar reference point. You don’t quite know how to behave, what to expect, or how to trust what is in front of you. And so, rather than leaning into something that is actually better, many people instinctively pull back from it, mistrust it, or even walk away altogether—because it doesn’t match anything they have learned to recognise as normal.

Why Do You Keep Ending Up in the Same Dynamics… Even When the People Are Different?

By this point, you might already be seeing it—you are not walking into these situations as a blank slate. You are bringing with you a set of learned responses, coping strategies, expectations, and ways of relating that have been shaped over years, often without conscious awareness. And these don’t just influence how you behave once you are in a situation… they influence what you move towards in the first place, what feels familiar, what feels “right enough,” what you give the benefit of the doubt to. So even when the person changes, the job changes, the environment changes—the underlying dynamic has a way of repeating itself, because you are still operating from the same internal blueprint.

What Are You Signalling to the World… And Who Is Responding to It?

What’s important to understand here is that attraction is not random—it is relational, and often deeply complementary. And “complementary” does not mean healthy. In fact, some of the most painful dynamics are perfectly complementary. A person who struggles to set boundaries, who over-accommodates, who prioritises others at their own expense, will very often attract someone who is more than willing to take that space—someone who expects attention, energy, flexibility, and who does not feel particularly compelled to give the same in return. The fit is seamless, the dynamic is complimentary… but the cost is high. The same applies in workplaces, where individuals who overextend themselves, who rarely push back, who absorb pressure, often find themselves in environments that will take as much as they are willing to give—and a little bit more.

And this is where something like Transactional Analysis becomes incredibly useful—not as a theory to memorise, but as a simple way of understanding how we tend to show up. In very accessible terms, we tend to operate from three states: a Child state, where we adapt, seek approval, or react emotionally; a Parent state, where we control, criticise, or over-direct; and an Adult state, which is grounded, clear, and able to respond rather than react. Most people move between Child and Parent without realising it—pleasing, accommodating, over-explaining on one side, or becoming rigid and frustrated on the other. But the shift that changes everything is learning to operate from that Adult state—where you can say, calmly and clearly, this works for me, this doesn’t, and mean it.

Because whether we realise it or not, we are constantly teaching people how to treat us. Not through what we say once, but through what we consistently allow.

If someone is late, and there is no real consequence, they learn that your time is flexible. If someone crosses a boundary and it is softened, explained away, or ignored, they learn that the boundary isn’t really there. And this is not about blame—it’s about awareness. Because the moment you start responding differently, the dynamic shifts. Sometimes subtly, sometimes dramatically.

And this is also where you begin to see the difference in people who have done the inner work. They don’t wait for things to become unbearable. They don’t wait for the full picture to reveal itself. They notice early. A tone. A pattern. A small inconsistency. A horn. A hoof. And that’s enough. They don't stay to see the Devil fully revealed and looming over them with power. Not because they are overly cautious, but because they trust themselves to recognise what does not align—and they are willing to walk away from it without needing further confirmation.

What If You Didn’t Have to Leave… But Learned How to Change the Game?

Most people don’t come to me because they haven’t realised something is wrong. They come to me when they are sick of what is happening—sick of the patterns, the dynamics, the way they feel in their relationships or work environments… and yet, at the same time, they feel like they can’t leave. They want to, they think about it, they imagine a different life—but then the doubt creeps in. Maybe I should try harder. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m not doing enough. Maybe I need to be more understanding, more patient, more… something. And this is exactly why telling someone to “just leave” is not only unhelpful—it’s unrealistic. Because until something shifts internally, they won’t leave. And even if they do, they are likely to find themselves right back in a similar dynamic.

We Begin With Awareness

The first shift is not action—it’s awareness. Learning to see the pattern for what it is. Not just what the other person is doing, but how you are responding to it, how you are participating in it, how the dynamic sustains itself between the two of you. This is where things start to change—not because anything external has shifted yet, but because you are no longer inside it blindly. You start recognising the roles, the triggers, the familiar loops that keep replaying. And once you can see it, you cannot unsee it.

We Continue With Strategy, Process, and Behavioural Change

From there, we begin to change how you engage. What is a different response here? What happens if you don’t accommodate in the same way? What happens if you pause, if you say less, if you say more, if you hold a boundary where you would normally soften? This is where the “game” becomes visible. Because the moment you respond differently, the other person—or the environment—will respond too. Sometimes with resistance, sometimes with confusion, sometimes with pushback. But this is not a setback—it’s information. You begin to understand what you have been part of, and how changing your behaviour shifts the entire dynamic. You move from reacting… to choosing.

We Heal What Sits Beneath It All

But behavioural change alone is not enough. Because underneath every response is an emotional undercurrent—beliefs about who you are, what you deserve, what you expect from others, and what you believe is available to you. I’m not good enough. I won’t find better. I have to work harder to be loved or respected. This is just how things are. And unless these are addressed, there is always a pull back toward the familiar, no matter how much you understand or how well you respond on the surface. This is where the deeper work happens—where you begin to untangle those beliefs, build self-trust, strengthen your sense of self-worth, and gradually shift the internal landscape that has been keeping you in place.

And something important happens along the way. As you see the patterns, as you change your responses, as you begin to feel the difference… you start to reach a point where staying no longer feels like something you have to do—it starts to feel like something you don’t want to do. Not from a place of panic, but from clarity. From knowing. From no longer being willing to participate in what you now fully understand. And that is the moment where leaving becomes not just possible… but inevitable.

Why Can’t You See a Better Life… Until You Become Someone Who Can Live It?

Something shifts quite profoundly when you do this work—not just in how you respond, but in how you see. Because before that shift, “better” is often an abstract idea. You can imagine it, you can want it, you can even say you deserve it… but it doesn’t feel fully real, fully accessible, fully yours. And so there is always that hesitation, that doubt, that quiet question in the background—will this actually work for me? will I be okay? But when you begin to heal those deeper undercurrents, when you build self-trust, when your sense of worth is no longer up for negotiation, something settles. You are no longer scanning for danger in the same way. You are no longer trying to manage every possible outcome. You trust that whatever happens—you will be okay. And from that place, you stop fearing what might come next, because you are no longer dependent on it going a certain way in order to feel secure.

And this is where something else becomes very clear—you attract differently. Not by force, not by strategy, but by how you show up, what you tolerate, what you engage with, and what you simply walk away from. I am often told, “Leah, you’re so lucky to have people in your life you can talk to so openly, so freely about sex and relationships… I’ve never had that.” And I understand why it looks like luck from the outside—but it isn’t. It is the result of how I show up in the world. I speak about what matters to me. I am open about things that others might feel hesitant around. I don’t carry shame around topics that are important to me. And because of that, I naturally attract people who resonate with that way of being—people who are open, curious, unafraid of those conversations. And equally, people who don’t feel comfortable with that… don’t stay. They don’t have to. There are eight billion people in the world. I am not trying to be everyone’s cup of tea—I am only interested in finding my people.

And that is the difference.

When you are grounded in yourself—when you trust yourself, respect yourself, know what matters to you—you stop trying to hold on to people at any cost. You are not negotiating your values for the sake of connection.

You are not pushing yourself to fit into spaces that don’t feel right. You are willing to be seen—and just as willing to be rejected. Because rejection is no longer a threat to your sense of self; it is simply information. This is not my person. This is not my environment. This is not for me. 

Rejection is redirection! And the sooner it happens - the better, because you can cut your losses and move on- quickly.

Sometimes within days, sometimes within moments, because you no longer need months or years to gather enough evidence. You see it, you feel it, you trust it. And you know you'd be okay.

And from that place, you don’t need to chase the right people, the right environments, the “heaven” you once struggled to imagine—you begin to attract them. Not because life suddenly becomes perfect, but because you are no longer available for what isn’t aligned, and deeply available for what is. And that is how you find your people. The ones you can grow with, be yourself with, laugh with, explore with—the ones who don’t require you to shrink or adjust or survive… but allow you and support you to expand.

What Is It Costing You to Stay the Same?

One of the hardest things for me to sit with in sessions is not the pain people are in right now—it’s the regret. Because there is something particularly heavy about looking back and realising how much time has been spent in dynamics that were never truly right for you. Relationships that took from your health, drained your energy, and never quite supported you to become the version of yourself you were capable of being. And not only that—you didn’t get to bring the best out in the other person either, because when you are in an unhealthy complementary dynamic, both people are limited by it. And that is the part that can’t be undone. There is no way to go back and reclaim those years, those opportunities, those versions of you that could have existed in something healthier, something more aligned.

Because time is not just time—it’s your life.

And when it is spent surviving, adjusting, negotiating your worth, trying to make something work that keeps pulling you out of yourself… it adds up. Not just in lost moments, but in the quiet erosion of who you are and what you believe is possible for you. And that is why this matters. Not in a dramatic, urgent, panic-driven way—but in a deeply honest one. Because the cost of staying the same is not just that things remain as they are… it’s that more of your life is shaped by something that was never meant to hold you in the first place.

A Healed You Won't Settle for Devils

At some point, the question shifts.

It is no longer about choosing between the devil you know and the devil you don’t—it becomes about whether you are willing to become someone who no longer settles for devils at all.

And from that place, something changes quite naturally—you stop trying to make things work that don’t fit, you stop holding on to people and environments that don’t meet you, and you begin to attract those that do. Not by luck, but by who you have become.

An Invitation

If you’re reading this and recognising yourself in these patterns—in the repetition, in the doubt, in the sense that you want something different but don’t quite know how to get there—then this is exactly where the work begins.

Not with forcing yourself to leave, but with understanding what has been keeping you in place, and learning how to shift it in a way that is real and lasting.

If it feels right, you’re welcome to book a Free Discovery Call with me. We’ll meet, talk through what’s been happening for you, and see whether I’m the right person to support you in this process. There’s no pressure—just a space to begin looking at things differently, and to explore what it could look like for you to move toward something that genuinely feels better.

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The Author:

Leah Spasova is a psychologist specialising in sex and relationships, helping individuals and couples break patterns, truly heal and build deeply fulfilling and healthy connections.

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