Caught in the Middle: When Triangulation Becomes a Test of Loyalty
She had not understood, at first, that she was in the middle. There were simply two people she loved who, for some time now, could no longer speak to each other without something breaking between them. So she listened. A little to one. A little to the other. She still thought that staying close to both would be enough.
He had mostly listened during that first call, which had lasted almost an hour. A few questions, a few silences. At the end, he had said that he was there if he was needed. He meant it. He did not yet know that being there would soon come to mean something else.
A Place We Do Not Always Choose
Sometimes, a conflict that initially belongs to two people does not remain between them for long.
Tension develops within a couple, a family, a friendship or a workplace. Rather than circulating only between the people directly involved, it begins to draw in a third person. Someone confides in them, seeks their support, asks for their opinion, shares information with them or, sometimes subtly, leads them to take a position.
This is one of the forms triangulation can take: a relational dynamic in which a third person becomes involved in a tension that initially belonged to a relationship between two other people.
This movement is not necessarily conscious, malicious or even problematic. We naturally seek support when something unsettles us. Sometimes, we need an outside perspective to understand what we are experiencing or to navigate a disagreement. And human relationships never exist entirely in isolation.
But there is a difference between being supported by a third person and gradually making that person a participant in the conflict.
Bringing a third person into a tension can serve different functions. Their presence may help reduce or redistribute tension that has become difficult for two people to contain between them. They may offer support or validation, or make it possible to temporarily avoid a direct confrontation. But in some dynamics, the third person may also become an ally: their support may strengthen one person’s position, place pressure on the other, or contribute to shifting the balance of power.
When this boundary becomes less clear, the person caught in the middle may begin to carry something that did not originally belong to them. They may be expected to understand, reassure, relay messages, act as an intermediary, confirm a version of events or take a position. And in some dynamics, it is no longer only their support that matters: their loyalty itself may become at stake.
Being caught in the middle can then create considerable inner friction. How do we remain connected to two people we care about when each seems to expect something from our position? What do we do when moving closer to one risks being interpreted as moving away from the other? And what happens to our own point of view when our attention becomes increasingly occupied by the possible consequences of each of our choices?
Understanding triangulation therefore requires us to look not only at how a third person becomes involved in a tension between two people, but also at what it is like to occupy that position and what it may gradually require of them.
What happens when staying connected to one person seems to require moving away from the other—and how can we regain some room to manoeuvre when every option seems to come at a cost?
She had started receiving messages that, at first, seemed almost harmless. Has she talked to you? Then: Maybe you could explain it to her. She knew them both well enough to find words that would not hurt either one. So she rephrased, added nuance, carried a few sentences from one side to the other. For a while, she had even believed it was helping.
He now knew almost the whole story. At least, the one he was being told. The calls had become more frequent and, little by little, what was happening between the other two had begun to occupy a place in his own relationship with each of them. When he saw the other person, something had changed. He did not know exactly when.
When Tension Seeks a Third Person
To better understand what happens in triangulation, it can be useful to momentarily shift our attention: rather than looking only at each person’s individual behaviour, we can observe the dynamic unfolding between them.
This is the perspective proposed by family systems theory, developed by American psychiatrist Murray Bowen. In this framework, a family is understood as a network of interdependent relationships: what happens between two people can influence other relationships, which can in turn alter the original dynamic. Bowen primarily studied families, but his model has also been applied to other relational systems, including workplaces and social groups.
At its most basic, a relationship refers to the connection, bond or interaction between two people. Because every individual is unique, any relationship can, at times, involve some degree of tension. When that tension increases and becomes more difficult to sustain, a third person may be drawn into the dynamic. In Bowen’s theory, the relational triangle then represents the smallest unit considered relatively stable. The tension has, in a sense, more room in which to circulate.
This redistribution may provide some relief. Two people who were finding it difficult to remain in direct relationship with one another may temporarily regain some equilibrium when a third person enters the dynamic. But this equilibrium does not necessarily mean that the original conflict has been resolved. The tension may simply have shifted elsewhere.
This is where the notion of displacement becomes particularly illuminating.
What initially belonged to a relationship between two people can gradually become a third person’s problem, even though the original tension did not belong to them.
This third person may receive confidences, try to calm the situation, relay messages or be asked to give an opinion. They may also become the person around whom the disagreement begins to organize itself. The question is then no longer only what is happening between the two people who were initially in conflict: what the third person thinks, says or does begins to affect their respective relationships.
Direct communication may then become more difficult. Rather than speaking to the other person about what is troubling us, we speak about them to a third person. Rather than seeking an answer from the person concerned, we look elsewhere for understanding, validation or some form of alliance.
These movements may be largely unconscious. The ways we navigate conflict, disagreement, closeness or the fear of losing a relationship are also shaped by our relational experiences. Certain ways of moving closer, pulling away or seeking the support of a third person may therefore become familiar and repeat themselves without being deliberately chosen.
Triangulation can also extend beyond the original triangle. One person reaches out to someone else, who in turn speaks to another person; alliances may form, and the original tension may spread through a broader network of relationships. In Bowen’s theory, these are referred to as interlocking triangles.
Whether it occurs in a family, a couple, a friendship, a workplace or a group, triangulation invites us to look beyond the apparent conflict. Where is the tension moving? Who is beginning to carry it? And what happens to the person who finds themselves in this new position?
She now found herself thinking about things she had never considered before. What she could tell one without betraying the other. What was better left unsaid. Whether it was wise to invite them both to the same place. She simply wanted to preserve both relationships, but some days, she felt as though she spent more time navigating between them than truly being with either one.
He had developed the habit of searching for words that might calm things down. Sometimes, he explained to one what the other might have meant. He added nuance, put events into context, looked for the place where their versions might still meet. He wanted to help. Yet the more he tried to bring them closer, the more their conflict seemed to find a place in his own thoughts.
Caught in the Middle: When Every Choice Seems to Come at a Cost
So far, we have looked at triangulation as a dynamic between three people. But from the inside, the position of the third person can be far more difficult to inhabit than it appears.
When both people matter to us, the tension between them can create genuine inner friction. We generally prefer that the people we care about be able to relate to one another without having to navigate their conflicts. When they can no longer do so, something of their tension also enters our own experience.
We may then wish for the situation to settle, not only for their sake, but also because their conflict has become uncomfortable for us. We may feel tempted to explain one to the other, add nuance to their interpretations, pass along certain information, search for common ground or encourage reconciliation.
The third person is therefore not always simply drawn passively into the triangle. They may also try to reduce the tension circulating within it. Trying to soothe, reconnect or facilitate communication may seem like a way to preserve both relationships and restore some sense of equilibrium.
But this position can quickly become demanding.
Part of our attention may then become occupied by a series of relational calculations: what should I say, to whom, and how? What can I share without betraying a confidence? Should I pass along this message? Can I invite these two people to the same place? How do I navigate between them without further fuelling their conflict?
Little by little, actions that would otherwise be ordinary may require more thought. Spontaneity gives way to a form of relational vigilance. We are no longer simply in relationship with each of these people: we must also contend with what now exists between them.
And the more we try to preserve both relationships, the harder it may become to discern our own position. Am I still trying to help? Am I mostly trying to avoid more tension? What do I actually think about the situation? And how much of this responsibility truly belongs to me?
Being caught in the middle does not necessarily mean that we have already chosen a side. At first, it may simply mean trying to remain connected to two important people while navigating a conflict that was not originally ours.
But something changes when one of them is no longer seeking only our listening or presence and begins to expect our support in the conflict.
This is where triangulation can become a test of loyalty.
She had mentioned one evening that she was going to have coffee with the other person. The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds. “Of course. Do whatever you want.” The words left her completely free. Yet she had felt her stomach tighten. She had almost added an explanation.
He did not entirely agree this time. He had tried to say so gently, beginning with everything he did understand. The face in front of him closed off. “I thought you, at least, would understand.” He felt something shift. He had thought he was being asked for his opinion. Perhaps he was also being asked which side he was on.
When the Third Person’s Loyalty Becomes at Stake
Seeking someone’s support when we are going through a conflict is nothing unusual. We may need to feel heard, understood or reassured about our perception of a situation. But within a triangulation, this search for support may go further: the third person may be drawn into taking a position in a conflict that was not originally theirs.
Their agreement may confirm an interpretation of events, lend greater weight to a point of view or simply create the feeling of no longer standing alone against the other person. The support being sought then begins to change: it is no longer only about being heard, but also about securing the third person’s agreement.
This is where loyalty may begin to be called upon.
Once that agreement becomes important, expectations may also begin to form around the third person’s position. It may no longer be enough for them simply to listen or be present: their agreement, their understanding or the way they position themselves in relation to the other person may take on particular significance.
These expectations are not always stated explicitly. Instead, they may become visible through reactions to what the third person thinks, says or does. Their agreement may be welcomed, while a nuance, a disagreement, a desire to remain outside the conflict or the continuation of their relationship with the other person may lead to disappointment or incomprehension, or be interpreted as a lack of support.
Little by little, the third person may come to understand that not every position carries the same relational cost. The search for support may then begin to place pressure on their loyalty.
For the person caught in the middle, the available options may begin to narrow. Supporting one person may weaken the relationship with the other. Refusing to take a position may itself be interpreted as taking one. And trying to preserve both relationships may become increasingly difficult.
In some situations, the experience may begin to resemble a double bind: the person faces incompatible or contradictory expectations, with the sense that no response truly allows them to preserve what matters. This is where the meaning of a loyalty conflict becomes particularly clear.
How do we remain loyal to one person when that loyalty seems to require becoming disloyal to the other?
She had started measuring things she would never have imagined needing to measure: who she replied to first, what she shared, the photos she posted, the invitations she accepted. Nothing had been formally forbidden. But some choices seemed to carry a greater cost than others. And she had learned to anticipate it.
He had wanted to protect. That was probably the clearest thing in his mind. Then one day, the other person asked him, “Do you even know what happened from my side?” He opened his mouth, but no answer came. He knew a great deal about their conflict. He suddenly realized that he had learned almost all of it through the same voice.
When Triangulation Becomes an Instrument of Power
When the Third Person’s Position Becomes a Resource
Not all triangulation involves a desire to control another person or gain the upper hand in a conflict. But when the third person’s position becomes at stake, it may also take on a function within the balance of power.
The third person is then no longer simply someone whose support or agreement is being sought: their position can become a resource within the conflict. What they believe, what they relay, what they confirm or how they position themselves may contribute to influencing the dynamic between the two people.
Triangulation can then take on a more strategic dimension.
Certain information may be selected or presented in ways that favour a particular interpretation of the situation. The third person may be asked to relay messages, confirm a version of events, exert indirect pressure or act as an intermediary where direct communication has become difficult. An alliance may gradually form, leaving the other person more isolated within the triangle.
This instrumentalization of the third person is not always entirely conscious or planned. In some situations, it may develop gradually through relational habits, a strong need for validation or difficulty tolerating contradiction. In others, behaviours may be more deliberately oriented toward controlling the narrative, relationships or the third person’s choices.
This is why it is important to focus less on labels and more on the concrete effects of the dynamic: is the third person still free to think differently? Can they maintain a relationship with the other person without facing consequences? Can they refuse to relay a message or take sides? Is their disagreement tolerated? Can they step out of the triangle without their relationship with one of the people being threatened?
When this freedom narrows, triangulation no longer serves only to redistribute tension. It can become a way of exerting influence over the relationships themselves.
In some dynamics marked by a significant imbalance of power or by coercive control, the involvement of a third person may, for example, contribute to isolating someone, monitoring their behaviour, circulating certain information or exerting pressure through other relationships. Triangulation is then only one element within a broader pattern of controlling behaviours and needs to be understood within that context.
The question is therefore no longer only: “Who is caught in the middle?”
It also becomes: “What is this person’s position within the triangle being used for?”
When Roles Organize the Balance of Power
When the third person becomes an ally in the conflict, it is not only their support that may matter. The way they come to perceive the other two people may also contribute to shaping the balance of power.
This is where another model can offer an interesting perspective: Stephen Karpman’s Drama Triangle.
Karpman is not describing triangulation in Bowen’s sense. Rather, his model focuses on three interdependent relational positions: Victim, Rescuer and Persecutor. Each takes on meaning in relation to the others. The Victim position corresponds to someone who experiences themselves, or is perceived, as suffering in the situation or needing help; the Rescuer position, to someone who steps in to help or protect; and the Persecutor position, to someone perceived as responsible for the problem, threat or suffering.
This interdependence of roles becomes particularly illuminating within a triangulation shaped by power dynamics. Drawing a third person into the Rescuer position does more than mobilize their support: it also contributes to organizing their perception of the other two people. One may increasingly be perceived as the person who needs protection, and the other as the person they need protection from.
The third person therefore does not simply enter the conflict. They may be drawn into a particular interpretation of the conflict, with a role implicitly assigned to them and corresponding positions for the other two people.
This can also strengthen an alliance. The more the third person feels called upon to defend, protect or intervene on behalf of one person, the more their relationship with the other may be influenced by the position assigned to them within the triangle.
These roles are not fixed, however. In Karpman’s model, they can shift and reverse over the course of interactions. A third person who occupied the Rescuer position may, for example, eventually feel trapped, used or attacked and move into a Victim position. If they then stop supporting the person they were protecting, they may in turn be perceived as the Persecutor.
The balance of power may therefore shift without the triangle necessarily disappearing: people change positions, but continue to be defined in relation to one another within the dynamic.
An essential distinction must nevertheless be maintained: Karpman’s roles are positions within a relational model. They do not tell us who is actually a victim or who is responsible for a situation. Suffering can be real, as can an imbalance of power, violence or controlling behaviours. The model should therefore not be used to place everyone on equal footing when they are not equal in reality.
When the Third Person Is a Child
When the person caught in the middle is a child and the other two people are their parents, the stakes take on a particular dimension.
A child does not have the same freedom as an adult to withdraw from a relational dynamic, refuse to participate or create distance. They depend on the adults who care for them and develop within family relationships they did not choose. The power relationship is therefore necessarily asymmetrical.
In this context, being exposed to conflict between parents can already be difficult. But the situation becomes different when the child is drawn directly into that conflict: when they serve as a messenger or confidant, are called upon to take a position, receive information that places them at the heart of the dispute, or sense that closeness with one parent affects their relationship with the other.
What is at stake then goes beyond simply seeking agreement. The child may find themselves trying to preserve two important relationships while what allows them to remain close to one seems to come at a cost in the other.
It is within this kind of context that a loyalty conflict may emerge. The child may try to adapt to the expectations, reactions or needs of the adults around them while also trying to preserve their own relationship with each parent. Depending on the family dynamic, this position may become particularly difficult when they have little room to express a different perception or remain free in their relationship with each parent.
She had responded differently the next time she was asked to pass something along. “I think it would be better if you spoke to her directly.” The sentence was simple. What followed was not. She had wanted to take it back, soften it, explain what she meant. She did not. That evening, she thought for a long time about the silence her answer had left behind.
He had started by no longer asking certain questions. Then he stopped commenting every time the conversation turned to the other person. It created a distance he had not expected. For several days, he wondered whether he was abandoning someone. Then another question appeared: since when had it been his responsibility to try to fix what was happening between them?
Why Can It Be So Difficult to Step Out of the Middle?
There is a particularly difficult limit to recognize when we are caught in the middle: we do not have the power to resolve the relationship between the other two people for them.
We can explain, add nuance, relay messages, soothe, support or try to bring people closer. We can change the way we ourselves relate to each person. But what happens between two other people ultimately belongs to them.
Recognizing this limit can be both freeing and destabilizing. Acting on it often means ceasing to perform some of the functions we had begun to occupy within the triangle: no longer relaying messages, no longer trying to convince one person to understand the other, no longer trying to repair their relationship, or accepting that we will not take the position expected of us.
But a relational dynamic does not necessarily reorganize itself without resistance.
From a systemic perspective, relationships tend to develop relatively stable patterns of functioning. Even when an equilibrium is uncomfortable, certain ways of interacting and certain positions can become familiar. When one person begins to act differently, that change may provoke reactions that can re-establish previous relational patterns.
Stepping out of the middle may therefore provoke exactly what we had been trying to avoid: more tension.
The person we were supporting may feel abandoned. The person with whom our relationship had become strained may not immediately trust us. Our refusal to intervene may be interpreted as indifference, selfishness or taking sides. And if our sense of belonging in the relationship seemed to depend, even implicitly, on the position we occupied, a deeper fear may emerge: if I stop playing this role, could I lose the relationship?
This is what makes stepping out of the triangle so paradoxical.
When the conflict belongs to the other two people, disengaging from the function we had taken on within it may allow us to regain greater freedom in our own relationships. But it is also precisely this change that may destabilize the equilibrium that had formed around our participation.
Stepping out of the middle does not necessarily make the tension disappear. Sometimes, we must first accept that we are no longer the one trying to resolve it.
And often, it is at the very moment when we begin to reclaim our own position that we discover just how much our body had learned to anticipate what it might cost us.
She had noticed the tightening before she even knew what had triggered it. Tension in her stomach, slightly shorter breaths, then that familiar sense that she needed to be careful. Sometimes, all it took was a silence or a change in someone’s tone of voice. Nothing had even been asked of her yet. And still, something in her already seemed to be preparing.
He had begun to recognize the tension that appeared when certain subjects came up again in conversation. His jaw tightened slightly, his shoulders stiffened and his attention sharpened. He listened differently then, alert to the next word, the next reaction. Sometimes, it was only afterward that he noticed just how much he had been on guard.
What the Body Sometimes Knows Before We Do
We can understand that a conflict does not belong to us. Know that we cannot resolve it for others. Decide that we will no longer relay messages, take sides or try to restore equilibrium.
And yet, when the moment comes to act differently, something inside us may tighten.
A conversation approaches and our stomach knots. The phone rings and tension appears before we even know what will be asked of us. We hesitate before replying to a message. We search for the right words, feel the urge to explain ourselves further or suddenly feel the need to reassure the other person.
These reactions do not necessarily mean that danger is present. They may reflect the anticipation of consequences that, through our experiences, we have learned to associate with certain interactions: disappointment, confrontation, someone pulling away, a break in contact, or simply tension that has become familiar. This is where, from a Somatic Experiencing® perspective, paying attention to our experience can offer an interesting lens.
Our relational experience is not shaped only by what we think about a situation. It also includes what we perceive, anticipate and feel when we are in the presence of another person. The tone of a voice, an unusual silence, a facial expression or certain words may be enough to mobilize a reaction before we have had time to consciously reflect on what is happening.
Paying attention to our experience also means noticing what happens within us in response to what we perceive. Rising tension, a tightening sensation, an urgent impulse to fix things, the need to reassure or the fear of displeasing someone can become information to notice rather than instructions we must immediately obey.
When we have spent a long time trying to preserve a relational equilibrium, we may become particularly attentive to signs that it is about to shift. We quickly notice what seems likely to displease, create distance or increase tension, and the impulse to soothe, adjust ourselves or return to our previous position may arise almost spontaneously.
This is one of the paradoxes of stepping out of the triangle: a new way of acting may be more aligned with us while initially feeling less familiar to our system.
The discomfort that arises when we stop playing our usual role does not necessarily mean that we are heading in the wrong direction. But neither is it proof that our perception of the situation is accurate. Instead, it can become information to observe: What am I anticipating right now? What do I feel like doing to reduce this tension? And is that impulse automatically drawing me back into the triangle?
This attention can create a little space between what we feel and what we choose to do.
Because regaining room to manoeuvre does not necessarily require us to stop fearing the loss of a relationship. It may begin with learning to recognize that fear without allowing it, on its own, to determine the position we must occupy.
Reclaiming Our Place Without Losing the Connection
A relationship is built between two people.
Stepping out of the middle can begin by returning to this simple idea: the relationship I have with one person is built between that person and me. The relationship I have with the other belongs to the two of us as well. And the relationship that exists between those two people belongs to them.
We can also be in relationship with someone without having to adopt their relationship with the other person.
And perhaps differentiation begins there: not by becoming indifferent to what others are experiencing, but by finding enough stability within ourselves to remain in relationship without having to carry what belongs to their relationships.
This is not about remaining neutral at all costs. Some situations call for taking a position, particularly when someone’s safety or integrity is at stake. Nor is it about guaranteeing that every relationship will be preserved. We do not have that power.
But we can gradually reclaim responsibility for the place we occupy.
What belongs to their relationship? What belongs to my relationship with each of them? And what belongs to me?
Stepping out of the middle does not necessarily mean moving away from the people involved.
It can mean returning to each relationship differently: without carrying their conflict, without having to decide for them what their relationship should become, and without allowing their tension to define our own relationship entirely.
Differentiation does not mean losing connection. Sometimes, it is what allows us to regain the freedom to truly be in relationship.
She saw the name appear when her phone vibrated on the table. Immediately, the old movement returned: her stomach tightening, the words already beginning to form. This time, she waited. Not for long. Just long enough to feel her feet against the floor and find a little space. Then she answered. She still did not know what would become of their relationships, but she knew a little more clearly from what place within herself she wanted to enter them.
He saw them again while nothing between them had truly been resolved. He noticed this almost with surprise. For a long time, he had imagined that his own sense of ease depended on the day their conflict finally ended. That day, he spoke with one of them. Later, with the other. Two different conversations. And, for the first time in a long while, he did not try to bring them together in his mind.
They had not found a way to make other people’s tensions disappear. They had found something more modest: a boundary between listening and carrying, a space between loving and choosing a side, the possibility of allowing each relationship to have its own story, its own responsibilities and its own limits. They could still be affected, still hesitate, still sometimes feel the old movement drawing them back toward the middle. But the middle was no longer the only place from which they could be connected.
Note — This article offers a somatic and psychoeducational reflection intended for the general public. It does not constitute a diagnosis, psychotherapy, or individual clinical advice, and does not replace the support of a health or social services professional when such support is needed.
Being caught in the middle can lead us to carry tension that does not belong to us, while also strongly mobilizing our own reactions. An approach attentive to the body, the nervous system, and our relationship with ourselves can help us better understand what is happening within us and gradually regain more room to manoeuvre.
If these reflections on triangulation and loyalty resonate with what you are experiencing, you can receive upcoming articles from Le Fil Invisible™ and continue exploring relational dynamics and what they can mobilize within us, at your own pace.
When we have spent a long time caught in the tensions or relationships of others, it can be difficult to reconnect with our own bearings. Support can offer a space to pay attention to what is being mobilized in the body, better recognize our reactions, and gradually regain greater freedom in how we relate to others.
