Healing After A Toxic Relationship

Toxic relationships can put us in a weird place of wondering if this is normal and when we figure out if it isn’t—it can feel like we’ve been poisoned. Here lies my antidote.

TW: abuse, mentions of domestic violence

“Don’t wear leggings.”

That’s where it started.

I scoffed, thinking it was a joke until his gifts involved baggy pants and shapeless dresses.

“I’ve had a long day, you should take some pics for me.”

I sent them, thinking I was into it until that was all he hit me up for.

“But what about my feelings? You’re on birth control so why can’t I?”

I relented, thinking that I could just take more pH supplements until I caught him stealthing and refusing to pay for my Plan B.

Growing up, I used to think that true love should never take, but always give.

But what happens when you give to someone who only takes?

To be “toxic” or to be in something that’s toxic can boil down to so many meanings, but I want to take a pause here because regardless of what it means to you—it’s valid. I say this because I think what makes any relationship toxic are the ways it makes you doubt that it isn’t. There can be so many upsides that make the downsides seem small—just a “rough patch” that every relationship goes through, right?

Being in a toxic relationship isn’t limited to a blatant abusive act or a large red flag rippling through the wind. It can look like confessing their love for you after knowing you for four days or showering you with gifts and affection instead of taking accountability for the string of arguments you had the night before.

The toxic is when it’s good, it’s really good but when it’s bad, it poisons you.

I think I realized I was poisoned when I kept telling myself “I’m too broken.”

Too broken as in too needy, too sensitive, too clingy, too jealous, too caring.

Just too much to repair.

I repeated this distorted mantra to myself anytime I expressed my needs, my desires, and my sense of self whenever I entered any romantic or platonic interaction. Surely, something had to be wrong with me that’s enabling this abuse. The accountability didn’t rest on my manipulative abusers shoulders, it rested on mine.

I think we’re transfixed on the idea that confronting our trauma’s means tackling it head-on, alone. We rationalize, we adapt, we believe this is what we deserve. And I believe the constant self-blaming is because we’re ashamed to admit that we somehow “allowed” this shit to fly.

I’m here to tell you: neither are true.

When we internalize toxic behavior, whether it’s from a spouse, a friend, family, or even our boss, we internalize it believing it’s normal—it’s how they express themselves. So we second-guess and wonder if it’s our fault for not understanding, for not considering their feelings, or for not giving more.

It’s our lack of giving that tricks us to believe we’re broken.

I think this speaks volumes to how normalized abuse and manipulation gets equated with acts of love. We’re taught how to love but it’s not often we hear how to stop. It’s that fairytale moment of thinking that love should be unconditional even at the expense of our emotional, mental, and physical being. The idea of “unconditional love” is what fed into my philosophy that love always gives, never takes, but now from the outside looking-in—love is conditional and a language that is spoken with words and action.

Love neither takes nor gives, it is shared abundantly.

As I’m writing this, I’m thinking of all the ways survivors bear so much just to break out of the cycle of abuse from toxic relationships. This past week FKA twigs published an article on Elle bravely telling her story of abuse in her relationship with Shia Labeouf, and in her account she shares a struggle many survivors face: opening up.

It’s a huge step to recognize the abuse and another step to leave but I think the process of recovering always lingers. Lingers because we start our path of healing in an environment riddled with rape culture, victim-blaming, and the vilification of survivors. Arguably, it’s one of the most soul-crushing experiences to have our stories of abuse suddenly become a think-piece everyone wants to dissect and probe at.

They end up forcing survivors like Megan Thee Stallion to post pictures of her wounded foot to prove she was shot, exploiting Britney Spears across every tabloid in her most vulnerable moments, mocking Janet Jackson and blacklisting her from every awards show/event, blaming Halle Berry for having a “troubled love life”, and using Chris Brown’s attack towards Rhianna as a punchline.

But even when our stories aren’t treated with disbelief, we’re suddenly glorified. It’s as if our abuse is something we should wear as a badge of honor symbolizing our strength.

I assure you, your strength isn’t owed to your abuser—it’s owed to you. Abuse isn’t something we endure or measure our resilience to.

I think what forces us into silence is that we’re essentially a rose trying to grow from concrete. Even if we don’t openly share our story and the ways we’re detoxing from the poison, we still carry the guilt, shame, and helplessness on our shoulders. We’re taught to hurt in silence in so many ways because we refuse to believe that we’re allowed to take up space.

But I like to think of healing as a selfish one and I mean this in the most self-indulging way possible. You no longer need to accommodate anyone else but yourself. Yes, I know that there are five love languages but nowadays I’ve created and practiced a sixth one: abundance.

Abundance in this case means we take up an entire continent if that’s what our space means. And in that space, we honor our feelings, say “No” as a complete sentence, and surround ourselves with people who validate and affirm us. Because while we can’t control how our experiences become vilified, I believe it’s necessary to instill grace and trust in ourselves regardless.

Remember, we’re safe and in control now. Seek the proper mental and emotional resources you need and be mindful that this is your healing journey led by no one but you. Heal not because you are broken but your wholeness deserves to thrive, unapologetically.