When Love Feels Like Pain: Lessons I Learned the Hard Way

Does everything feel like too much these days? Get When Life Sucks: 21 Days of Laughs and Light for free when you join the Tiny Buddha list.

“Sometimes the person you love the most is the one who teaches you the hardest lesson about yourself.” ~Unknown

I once thought that being in a relationship meant sacrificing parts of myself for the sake of “love.”

I stayed when I should have left.

I forgave when I hadn’t healed.

I silenced myself when I needed to speak. I gave up my voice, my boundaries, and my sense of emotional safety. I stopped expressing my needs to avoid conflict. I minimized my feelings so I wouldn’t be “too much.” I slowly disconnected from the parts of me that felt confident, joyful, and secure.

And in the process, I slowly forgot who I was.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was in a toxic relationship, one where love came mixed with manipulation, control, and inconsistency. It wasn’t all bad, which made it harder to leave. But the highs and lows were so intense that my nervous system was always on edge.

The Cycle I Couldn’t See

It always started with charm. After a fight, he would apologize for raising his voice or for disappearing, promise that he would communicate better, and reassure me that I was “the one” and that he didn’t want to lose me. Those moments made me feel chosen again.

Then came the criticism. He often told me that I was too sensitive or that I misunderstood his intentions. When I tried to express my needs or set a boundary, the warmth disappeared, replaced by distance and silence.

Finally, the explosion: arguments that left me drained and ashamed, followed by another round of apologies and affection.

This cycle kept me trapped. It wasn’t just about the relationship anymore; it became about proving my worth. If I could just be “better,” maybe the love would finally be consistent.

Why We Stay

Looking back, I ask myself: Why did I stay? Why do so many of us stay in relationships that clearly hurt us?

The truth is, toxic relationships don’t start toxic. They often start with intensity, passion, and connection. That initial bond feels so strong that when things shift, we convince ourselves it’s temporary.

We also stay because of fear—fear of being alone, fear of starting over, fear that maybe this is the best we’ll ever have.

And often, deeper than fear, there’s a wound. Mine was the belief that I wasn’t good enough. That belief didn’t start in this relationship; it was shaped by earlier relationship experiences and followed me into this one. Then, over time, it was reinforced. Each dismissal, each inconsistency quietly confirmed a story I already knew too well. This belief made me accept breadcrumbs when I deserved the whole meal.

The Turning Point

One night, after yet another fight, I sat on the bathroom floor in tears. I remember staring at myself in the mirror and not recognizing the person looking back.

I was exhausted. My body was tense all the time. I couldn’t focus at work. My friendships had grown distant. My world had shrunk to the size of this relationship.

And then a simple question came to me: If nothing ever changed, could I live the rest of my life like this?

The answer was a painful but clear no.

That was the beginning of my healing, not the end of the relationship immediately but the start of reclaiming myself.

What Leaving Actually Looked Like

People often talk about leaving a toxic relationship like it’s a single moment.

It wasn’t like that for me.

Leaving was a process. A messy, emotional, back-and-forth process.

The hardest part wasn’t packing my things; it was battling my own thoughts: What if I’m overreacting? What if no one else will love me? What if he changes the moment I leave? What if I’m making a mistake?

There was guilt, fear, and surprisingly… grief.

Even when a relationship is unhealthy, the attachment is real. The hope is real. The memories are real.
Letting go felt like mourning a version of myself that never truly existed.

What helped?

Support.

I reached out to two close friends who reminded me of who I was before the relationship. Talking to them grounded me. They gave me perspective when I doubted myself.

Space.

I limited contact. Not out of anger but out of self-preservation. I kept my distance from the places he used to go to and avoided conversations that would pull me back into the drama. Every message or call that came through was a test of whether I could protect my peace.

Small daily acts of self-respect.

Eating well. Going on walks. Journaling. These simple routines rebuilt my confidence and reminded me that I was capable of taking care of myself.

Leaving wasn’t a clean break. It was shaky, emotional, and full of second guesses. But every day away from the chaos felt like breathing again.

What I Learned About Toxic Love

Through this journey, I’ve learned some truths that I wish someone had told me earlier:

Love without respect is not love.

If your partner belittles, manipulates, or controls you, that is not love. It is power disguised as affection.

Consistency matters more than intensity.

A healthy relationship may not feel like a roller coaster, but its steadiness creates safety.

Boundaries reveal the truth.

When you set a boundary and someone repeatedly ignores or punishes you for it, you see who they really are.

For me, it was things like asking for honest communication, requesting time for myself without feeling pressured or judged, or saying no to plans that didn’t feel right. Each time I tried to assert these simple boundaries, they were dismissed or met with frustration, slowly showing me how little respect there actually was in the relationship.

Healing begins with you.

Leaving a toxic partner doesn’t automatically heal your wounds. It’s the beginning of the work: unlearning patterns, building self-worth, and creating a healthier relationship with yourself.

For me, that meant noticing how often I apologized to keep the peace, ignored my own needs to avoid conflict, and doubted my instincts when something felt off. Recognizing these patterns was painful, but it was the first step in taking back my power and learning to trust myself again.

How to Start Healing

If you recognize yourself in my story, here are some steps that helped me:

Name the reality.

Stop minimizing or romanticizing what’s happening. Call it what it is: toxic.

Reach out for support.

Whether it’s friends, therapy, or a support group, don’t isolate yourself. Toxic relationships thrive in secrecy.

Reconnect with yourself.

Do the things you love, even if small. Write, paint, walk, dance. Remind yourself of who you are outside of the relationship.

Practice self-compassion.

It’s easy to judge yourself for staying. Instead, recognize that you did the best you could with what you knew at the time.

Create a vision for healthy love.

Write down how you want to feel in a relationship—safe, respected, valued. This vision becomes a compass for future choices.

Looking Back with Gratitude

Strangely enough, I am grateful for that relationship now. Not for the pain but for the lessons.

It showed me the parts of myself that were wounded and seeking validation. It forced me to confront my beliefs about love and worthiness.

Most importantly, it pushed me to build a stronger relationship with myself, the kind of relationship that sets the tone for every connection I allow into my life.

If you’re reading this, and you’re in a toxic relationship, I want you to know that you are not weak for staying, and you are not broken for leaving. None of this is a reflection of your worth. It’s a reflection of wounds that are ready to be healed. And once you start seeing clearly, you realize you never have to settle for less again.

Letting Go of the “Good Person” Identity and Spiritual Expectations

Staying Present in a Life That Isn’t What You Expected

The Simple Words That Reshaped How I See Myself