Breaking the Cycle, Reclaiming Myself

 🌳 The Tree, the Storm, and I : How I Broke Free from Manipulation

Some lessons don’t come softly.
They come like bruises - repeated knocks against the same truth until you finally stop hoping the tree will move. This is the story of how I broke free from a relationship that taught me more about myself than I ever expected. It’s about love bombs, red flags and the quiet power of choosing peace.

💌 The Love Bombs That Looked Like Care

Every time we restarted, it began with sweetness: Morning messages asking how I slept, random check-ins about whether I’d eaten and unexpected poems that made me feel seen. It was intoxicating - like being wrapped in a blanket of attention and affection, but it wasn’t long before the warmth turned into heat.

The moment I questioned a red flag - whether it was a lie, a contradiction, or a sudden cold shoulder - I was met with shouting, accusations and gaslighting. I was told I was “playing the victim”, that it was all “in my head” and for a while, I believed it. I started doubting my own instincts, apologizing for things I hadn’t done and shrinking myself to avoid conflict.

🚩 The Red Flags I Chose to Paint Green

I saw the signs - I just didn’t want to believe them.

I ignored the lack of accountability, the way blame was always shifted, the emotional whiplash of being adored one moment and dismissed the next. I convinced myself that love meant enduring and that if I just held on tighter, she’d stop pulling away, but love shouldn’t feel like walking on eggshells and it shouldn’t make you question your sanity.

🌪️ Her Storms, My Silence

It took me a long time to understand that the chaos wasn’t just emotional - it was chemical. I began to notice that substance abuse was her only way of calming the storms inside her. When things got tense, when accountability was too much, when emotions ran high, she’d retreat into that escape and for a while, I mistook it for coping. I told myself everyone has their own way of dealing with pain, but the truth is - her escape became my prison.

I was trying to build a life - one rooted in trust, growth, and mutual care, but every time I laid a brick, the foundation shook. Plans were forgotten, promises were broken, conversations turned into confrontations and I was left holding the weight of both our worlds, trying to keep things steady while she drifted further from reality.

I wasn’t just loving someone through a hard time - I was losing myself in the process.

👄Possession Without Protection

She hated when I spent time with others. Jealousy would flare up if I laughed too long on a call or made plans that didn’t include her. It was as if my joy outside of her presence was a threat, but when I was hers - fully present, fully available - she didn’t look after me.

She didn’t ask how I was really doing. She didn’t show up when I needed support. Her care was conditional, performative and often timed to keep me close, not to help me heal. I was expected to orbit her needs, while mine went unnoticed.

That kind of love isn’t love - it’s control dressed up as concern.

🔁 The Only Ex I Ever Returned To

I’ve never gone back to an ex, not once. Not for nostalgia, not for closure, not for a second chance. When I walk away, I walk away. That’s always been my boundary - my way of honouring the lessons and protecting my peace, but with her, I broke that rule. Not once, not twice, but three times and that wasn’t just about love - it was manipulation.

Each time I left, she knew exactly how to reel me back in: A message that sounded like growth, a poem that mirrored my soul, a sudden softness that made me question whether I’d misunderstood her all along. It was strategic - timed perfectly to catch me in moments of doubt, loneliness or longing.

She didn’t fight for me when I was beside her, but the moment I stepped away, she became everything I’d ever wanted - until I came back. Then the cycle resumed, the warmth cooled, the chaos returned and I was back in the storm, wondering how I got there again.

Her ability to make me return wasn’t a testament to our connection - it was a tactic. A way to keep control, to reset the narrative, to make me question my own boundaries and rewrite my own rules.

Going back wasn’t weakness - it was hope weaponized and once I saw that, I stopped returning, I started remembering and I chose to move forward - not because I stopped loving her, but because I started loving myself.

🎭 The Exit I Pretended Was Mine

When I finally walked away, I didn’t tell the full truth. I said long-distance relationships weren’t for me and that I needed someone physically close. It was easier to make it about logistics than to admit what I had really learned.

The truth? I had stopped calling her out on the lies.

I knew she was lying. I saw the inconsistencies, the contradictions, the stories that didn’t add up, but I stopped confronting her - not out of fear, but out of exhaustion. What was the point? She would never take accountability. She would twist my reactions into the problem, make my pain the offense and keep blaming me for how I responded to her disrespect.

So, I left quietly - not because I couldn’t do long distance - but because I couldn’t keep doing emotional damage control.

🧠 The Moment I Realized I Wasn’t Crazy

The turning point wasn’t dramatic - it was quiet. I remember sitting alone, replaying yet another argument where I was made to feel like the villain for simply expressing hurt and something clicked...

I wasn’t crazy - I was conditioned!

Conditioned to doubt myself, conditioned to believe that love meant suffering, conditioned to think that being yelled at was a normal response to vulnerability and once I saw it, I couldn’t unsee it.

🔓 Breaking the Cycle

Leaving wasn’t easy. It meant grieving the version of her I had created in my mind. It meant accepting that love bombs aren’t love - they’re bait. It meant rebuilding my self-trust from the ground up, but I did it.

I stopped hitting my head on the same tree. I stopped hoping for change from someone who refused to take responsibility. I chose peace over chaos, clarity over confusion, myself over manipulation and now, I share this not to shame her, but to honour me.

💬 Your Turn

If you’ve ever felt stuck in a cycle of emotional manipulation, I want you to know:
You’re not crazy. You’re not weak. You’re not alone.
You deserve a love that doesn’t come with conditions or confusion.
You deserve to feel safe.

Feel free to share your story in the comments, or just sit with this one for a while. Healing doesn’t need an audience, but sometimes - it needs a mirror.