Breaking Free from Toxic Love
Finding Freedom After Heartbreak
His name lit up my phone screen, jolting me into a mix of fear, anxiety, and nausea. After months of silence, he wanted to see me “one last time” before he left for North America. A year ago, he was the centre of my world; now, he felt like a stranger.
Many people long for a text from their ex—the one where they pour out their heart and say everything you’ve been waiting to hear. It’s the final step to happily ever after you’ve spent your life dreaming about. For me, however, his text only deepened my dread. Instead of hope, it triggered a wave of fear and unease that consumed me.
It wasn’t always this way. We met at fifteen near the undercroft of our high school, intertwining our destinies for almost two decades. He was my first love, the boy I shared most of my firsts with, and for half my life, he set the standard for relationships. Seeing his message during our many breakups used to bring joy and vindication, feeding my bruised ego. I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
Over the past 14 years, I received countless texts and calls—seemingly sincere declarations of love that were always retracted when it no longer suited him.
But the one that broke me happened two years before our final ending. We were going through another rough patch (honestly, we were always going through a rough patch). I was hysterical, insecure, and primarily scared—I was in love with a man I didn’t feel safe around.
He trained me not to trust anything he said or did because he could always take it back or rewrite history. He’d claim he didn’t remember or insist I misunderstood. This led me to start documenting our important conversations in a Google doc, having him sign off in case he had a “lapse in memory” later. I didn’t know what gaslighting was back then.
That night, twenty-four months before I finally had enough, he wanted to talk. He was unsure about our future together—he was always unsure. He shared his fears bit by bit, and I assured him it would be okay. I would accept all of who he was. After we spoke, I could feel the weight lifting off his shoulders. “Maybe this is it,” I thought—the moment he realised he wanted to go all in. Little did I know, I had only unlocked a new level of his indecisiveness.
My heart was brimming with hope. In the dim light of my room, he sat at the edge of my bed, looked at me intently, and earnestly grabbed my hand. “Would you do me the honour of being my wife?” he asked.
I said yes.
Six months later, the bomb dropped. By then, I had told most of my friends and family we were engaged. But whenever I tried to talk about the wedding, he shut down. Eventually, I stopped bringing it up. One day, I confronted him. My friends, family, and, most importantly, I wanted to know what was happening.
That’s when he told me I had misunderstood what he meant and didn’t have the heart to tell me. I was devastated and humiliated. For the following year, I had to dodge questions about the engagement. “Where’s the ring?” “When’s the wedding?” Each time, it was like reliving the pain and embarrassment.
I came to the heartbreaking conclusion that this person would never be sure about me.
It took two years to leave our crumbling relationship. It’s the hardest thing to love someone who consistently causes you pain. It doesn’t just affect you in the relationship—it affects you after it ends. You find it hard to trust people’s intentions, question your judgment, and fear trusting someone who says they love you again. You become afraid to love again.
Fourteen years of pain and deceit are hard to get over, and honestly, I didn’t even know where to begin. I spent so much time fearing falling in love with him again and being trapped for life. It seemed easier to be angry with him than to have empathy and forgive.
Forgiveness means opening your heart. But what if I open my heart and get more than I bargained for? If you’ve ever finally gathered the courage to leave a toxic relationship, you know what I’m talking about.
I know I must forgive him and myself because I want honest love—love deeply and fearlessly. My best friend says I’m too accepting of people. My big heart is one of the most endearing things about me, but it also makes it hard to set the boundaries I need to be safe.
But if there’s one lesson I’ve learned, you can’t embrace the beauty of your future if you’re still holding on to the pain of your past.
I hope my ex never texts me again because I’m finally free to be myself. I am free to define happiness on my terms. I finally feel safe.
Six Years Later…
It’s been six years since I wrote this. In those six years, I’ve remained single. At first, I tried desperately to find another relationship to disappear into. Still, the universe has a way of setting you straight. When I wrote this, I didn’t know if I could forgive my ex, be vulnerable to love again, or endure pain again. Honestly, it took me six years to get back to my baseline after losing myself in that relationship, and now I’m rebuilding on a new foundation. Though it didn’t happen as fast as I imagined, I’m ready to face the pain I went through in that relationship, and I’ve been working through that with my therapist. I’m still angry—probably more so now because I truly understand the level of manipulation and emotional abuse I was subjected to. I once feared falling in love with him again, but I’ve healed so much that I could never find him attractive, and I still hope never to hear from him again. I gained so much strength from walking away when I did, and it was the best decision I ever made.
Over these past few years, I’ve opened my heart repeatedly and even experienced heartbreak several times over. But those experiences have only deepened my capacity to love myself. I no longer fear heartbreak because it means my heart is healthy and open. I’ve learned to set boundaries and prioritize myself, and with each failed attempt at love, I’ve learned more about who I am as a woman and how I want to be loved.
I’m still working on forgiveness but know it will come in time—healing is never linear. I wish I could say I regretted that relationship, but in many ways, it was the best thing that happened to me. It was a mirror for all the parts of me that needed healing. It highlighted my codependency, lack of boundaries, and tendency to over-give in relationships. I gained a level of depth from that stage of my life that wouldn’t have been possible without the strife I endured. In hindsight, I can see how unfair I was in some respects, trying to mould him into the person I needed instead of accepting he wasn’t and moving forward with grace.
In this season of my life, I’m focused on nurturing and nourishing myself. Romance is no longer centre stage in my life. I’m focusing on creating a life that supports the woman I’m becoming—pouring into my creative practices, pursuing a career shift, and improving my mental and physical health.
If you’re struggling with the end of a relationship that left your life in shambles like mine, know that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Don’t rush the process—you deserve as much love and care as you gave in that relationship. Allow yourself the space to bloom again.
Joyfully,
Moken Marsai
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