Healing from the Subtle Wounds: A Journey Back to Self

 

As life continues to unfold, I find myself reflecting deeply on the last five years, a period where, unknowingly, I was entangled in the web of toxic relationships designed to break me. Looking back, one thing becomes clear: when your light shines even a little too brightly, those who have dimmed their own will often work overtime to dim yours too.

The goal of the toxic person is simple: bring you down to their level.
And sadly, much of what they despise in you is often beauty, strength, and resilience you haven't even fully recognized in yourself yet.

I've come to hate that sometimes it takes great pain for us to realize who we are.
It's in the betrayal, the loneliness, the subtle wounds that never quite scar over, that's where identity is forced to be reclaimed.

Growing up, my mother used backhanded tactics to chip away at my self-esteem. I vividly remember how she would gush over my cousins: "Oh, you're so beautiful," she'd say, over and over, in my presence, but those words were never directed toward me, not once. The intention was clear. It wasn't to build them up; it was to tear me down by comparison.
Only, it didn't have the desired effect. Instead, it bred resentment. It built awareness. And eventually, it built distance.

Over time, this pattern repeated itself through supposed friendships. I would show up, and like clockwork, compliments would be passed around carefully, intentionally, skipping over me.
Because of what I experienced at home, I recognized the game early.
This time, I chose not to stay and try to win invisible battles.
I chose to leave.

And just when I thought I had left those dynamics behind, I reencountered them, only this time, packaged differently:
In a man whose toxic traits mirrored my mother's spirit.
He didn't shower others with compliments in front of me. Instead, he made his disdain known through wandering eyes, staring at other women and even other men right next to me.
At first, I doubted myself. I questioned my perceptions, silencing the alarms that rang inside. I chose observation over confrontation until there was no more room for doubt: my ex was not only disrespectful, he was weaponizing my presence to injure my soul.
When I confronted him, like many toxic people do, he labeled my pain as insecurity rather than facing his actions.

This is the way of the narcissistic spirit: dark, heavy, and destructive.
The longer you remain entangled with it, the more you lose:
Your peace.
Your self-worth.
Even your health.

If there's anything my journey has taught me, it's this:
You must get to the root of recurring patterns in your life.
Healing requires that we take an unflinching look at where we were conditioned to accept certain behaviors, no matter how painful the truth may be.
Freedom demands it.

You are not crazy.
You are not overreacting.
You are remembering who you are — and who you were never meant to be for anyone else's comfort.

Let the light in you burn brighter than ever.
Let it expose what needs to be left behind.
Let it set you free.