You’ve probably felt it. You’re having a lighthearted conversation or enjoying a peaceful moment—and then someone enters the space and everything shifts. The air feels heavier. The mood darkens. The room gets quieter, but not in a good way.
Some people seem to carry an invisible cloud with them. Not because they’re malicious or broken—but because they’ve developed patterns that chip away at the emotional balance around them.
This isn’t about judgment. It’s about awareness.
When we can spot these habits—in others or in ourselves—we can begin to reclaim the energy that’s quietly being lost.
Let’s take a closer look.
1. They complain constantly—even about the good stuff
We all vent from time to time. But some people turn nearly everything into a source of frustration or disappointment.
The food is too bland. The service was too slow. The day was too long. Even compliments come with a backhand.
According to psychologist Guy Winch, people often confuse venting with healthy emotional expression, when in fact habitual complaining can “erode trust and increase interpersonal tension” over time.
It’s not just tiring to listen to—it creates a subtle emotional tug-of-war. You find yourself trying to lift them up, only to be met with more reasons why life is unfair.
I used to catch myself doing this—especially when I felt overwhelmed. Complaining gave me a false sense of control. Eventually I realized I wasn’t helping anyone, including myself.
2. They dominate every conversation without noticing
There’s a difference between sharing and steamrolling.
Energy-draining people often talk without tuning in. They miss the signals that someone else has something to say, or they take every comment as a cue to launch into another story about themselves.
According to research from the Gottman Institute, the emotional tone of interactions is key—relationships (and by extension, group dynamics) require a 5:1 ratio of positive to negative exchanges to thrive.
When one person monopolizes dialogue, the ratio flips: dozens of subtle negatives crowd out any positives.
Genuine connection thrives on give-and-take. Without it, the rest of us instinctively pull back and the room deflates.
3. They default to worst-case thinking
Some people always anticipate disaster. A new job becomes a setup for burnout, a vacation morphs into potential catastrophe, a relationship feels doomed before it begins.
They call it realism, but it’s often anxiety in disguise.
I once had a friend who did this constantly. I’d share good news, and she’d list reasons it might implode. I started leaving out details of my life—not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t want to feel deflated.
Optimism needs oxygen.
4. They expect others to manage their emotions
When someone hasn’t learned to self-regulate, they often outsource the task. They sigh loudly so you’ll ask what’s wrong, withdraw so you’ll chase, or lash out and expect instant forgiveness.
At one point, I confused this with emotional depth. I thought being the “safe space” meant absorbing someone’s storms.
For a few years in my late twenties, I had a close friend who struggled deeply with anxiety and low self-worth. I cared about her a lot. But over time, our conversations shifted.
They stopped being reciprocal and started to feel like emotional triage. Every time we spoke, I’d brace myself. Her problems were always urgent, always overwhelming—and somehow, I always ended up feeling like it was my job to fix them.
She never asked outright, but her silences were heavy. Her messages were laced with guilt. If I needed space, she’d take it personally. And if I ever shared something joyful, it was met with a flat response or a change of subject.
Eventually, I realized I wasn’t showing up out of love anymore—I was showing up out of obligation. I’d stopped trusting myself to set boundaries, and instead, I took on her emotional weight like it was my own.
But Rudá Iandê’s latest book, Laughing in the Face of Chaos, reminded me that other people’s happiness is not my job to manage. Emotional support is generous; emotional responsibility is misplaced.
People who regularly expect others to fix their inner world aren’t just draining—they’re avoiding the work only they can do.
5. They use vulnerability to manipulate
True vulnerability invites closeness. But when it’s used strategically—to guilt, to control, to demand—it does the opposite.
You might catch yourself thinking:
- “They’ve just been through so much; I can’t bring up my stuff.”
- “If I don’t respond right away, they’ll spiral.”
- “I don’t want to upset them—they’re already struggling.”
This pattern pulls all the energy toward them while leaving you depleted.
Being open is powerful, but when vulnerability becomes a tool to avoid accountability, it loses its integrity.
6. They reject joy—especially in others
Some people treat joy with suspicion. If you’re happy, they’ll dismiss it. If you’re celebrating, they’ll downplay it.
Psychologist Barbara Fredrickson’s research on positive emotions shows that joy helps us broaden our thinking and build stronger relationships over time.
When someone chronically blocks joy, everyone’s mental bandwidth narrows.
Over time, you start editing your enthusiasm, which dims the whole room.
7. They create subtle power dynamics
Not every energy drain is loud. Some arrive as quiet corrections, unsolicited advice, or casual one-upmanship.
You leave feeling a little smaller, a little less sure.
These power plays often stem from insecurity dressed as superiority.
Once you recognize them, you stop handing over your energy so freely.
8. They fear silence—so they fill every second
Stillness makes some people uncomfortable.
They talk through quiet moments, reach for their phones, or turn on noise—not because they have something vital to share, but because silence feels unbearable.
Reading Rudá Iandê reminded me how often we numb inner chaos with external sound. I’ve filled my schedule, my conversations—even my yoga practice—just to avoid what might rise in the quiet.
If someone hasn’t made peace with their inner world, they’ll disrupt the peace around them too.
Final thoughts
Drained rooms don’t happen by accident. They happen when people—often unconsciously—project their inner chaos into shared space.
If you’ve recognized these habits in others, you’re not alone. If you’ve recognized them in yourself, you’re not broken—you’re simply becoming aware, and awareness is the pivot point.
I’ve learned to stop outsourcing my energy.
Transformation doesn’t come from fixing ourselves; it comes from reclaiming our wholeness, one mindful choice at a time.
