There was a moment—years ago—that has stuck with me. My ex-boyfriend once yelled in my face, “You will never change.” He said I couldn’t, and that even if I claimed I would, I was only lying to myself and everyone around me.
Those words haunted me for a long time. Part of me was terrified that he might be right. But after our relationship ended, I made a choice—I would turn inward. I would take a good, honest look at myself and try to understand why I behaved the way I did when we were together. I didn’t want to carry the weight of those patterns anymore. I needed to face them, acknowledge them, and take responsibility for my part in the dysfunction we both contributed to.
It’s not easy admitting you were toxic. I was. I was constantly on edge, often ready to walk away at the slightest trigger. I did things that hurt myself and blamed them on my mental health. I struggled with anger, snapping over small things—once even in public, all because I couldn’t find a place and the map app confused me. I’m not proud of who I was between 2017 and 2019. I wasn’t taking care of myself. My world revolved around my ex. I distanced myself from home, from work, from stability. I let my mental illness define me, and I excused a lot of harmful behaviour in the name of it.
Looking back at photos from that time, I barely recognise myself. I looked lost, dishevelled, completely detached from the person I am now. And while I do regret a lot from those years—the choices I made, the way I lived—they also gave me clarity. They helped me realise the life I don’t want and the person I never want to be again.
So when that chapter ended, I felt adrift. But in that lost space, I started hearing something softer than his words—my own voice. And it told me something different: I can change. I already am.
Removing myself from that toxic relationship gave me room to grow. I started taking responsibility, not just for the past, but for my future. I began working on the parts of me that needed care and structure—my temper, my self-talk, my sense of identity. I looked for real, practical steps I could take to manage my emotions, to show up for myself in a way I never had before.
And honestly? I’m really proud of how far I’ve come.
I’m not the same person I used to be. I take care of myself now, inside and out. I’ve reconnected with friends, rediscovered hobbies (like journaling—this space right here), and found peace in the kind of quiet I once thought I couldn’t handle. I still get angry, sure. But I don’t explode anymore. I’ve become a calmer person. I speak gently to myself. I live a life that feels mine—chosen, not just survived.
Even work, which used to be a mess, is now a point of pride. I’ve been with the same company for nearly five years. My attendance is solid. My stability, hard-earned.
The person I was back then? She needed love, not shame. She needed support, not scorn. And while my ex’s words once felt like a life sentence, I now know the truth:
I am self-aware. I am open to feedback—even when it’s hard to hear. And most importantly, I can change.