‘Why am I in a toxic relationship?’ It’s a question that haunts me, especially on the nights when the silence between us feels unbearable, yet somehow I still stay. There’s this heaviness in my chest that won’t go away, a deep, sinking feeling that I’ve been ignoring for too long. I know things aren’t right. I know the way I’m treated, the way I feel in this relationship, isn’t how love is supposed to be. So why do I stay? Why am I still here, stuck in a cycle of hurt and hope?

It wasn’t always like this. In the beginning, things felt different—better, lighter. I was drawn to the way they made me feel, the sense of being wanted, of being seen. There was passion, excitement, that intoxicating feeling of connection. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. The person I once loved, the one who made me feel special, started to feel like a stranger. The love I thought we shared started to feel conditional, and the little cracks in our relationship became too big to ignore.

Now, it’s as if I’m walking on eggshells. Every conversation feels like a potential landmine, and I never know when something small will trigger an argument or a hurtful comment. I feel like I’ve lost my voice, my ability to stand up for myself, because I’ve been told, over and over, that my feelings are wrong, that I’m overreacting, that it’s my fault. I’ve been made to believe that I’m the problem, and somewhere along the way, I started to believe it.

But why am I still here? Why do I stay in a relationship that chips away at my self-worth, one piece at a time? I think part of it is fear—fear of being alone, of not finding love again, of starting over. There’s a comfort in the familiar, even when the familiar is painful. I’ve convinced myself that maybe this is what I deserve, that maybe I’m not worthy of the kind of love I once dreamed of. The longer I stay, the more I question whether I’ll ever find something better, whether I’m even capable of having a healthy relationship.

Then there’s the hope. The hope that things will change, that the person I fell in love with will come back. There are good days, after all—moments when things feel almost normal, almost right. Those moments are like a lifeline, a reminder of what used to be, and I cling to them because I want so badly for them to last. But they never do. The good moments are fleeting, and they’re always followed by more pain, more disappointment. Yet, I keep hoping. I keep telling myself that if I just try harder, if I’m more patient, more understanding, things will get better.

I think, too, that part of me stays because I’m scared of what it would mean to leave. It feels like admitting failure, like I wasn’t strong enough to make it work. I worry about what people will think, about the judgment and the questions. I’ve invested so much of myself into this relationship, and walking away feels like losing a part of who I am. But staying, I’ve come to realize, is costing me even more.

The truth is, I’ve lost myself. I’ve become someone I don’t recognize, someone who doubts their worth, who stays quiet to keep the peace, who feels small and diminished. I’m constantly anxious, constantly questioning whether I’m good enough, constantly feeling like I’m the one who’s broken. I’ve spent so much time trying to fix the relationship, trying to fix them, that I’ve forgotten how to take care of myself.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know why I let things get this far, why I didn’t leave the first time my heart was broken. But I’m starting to understand that love shouldn’t feel like this. Love shouldn’t hurt this much. I deserve more than this cycle of pain and hope, of being built up only to be torn down again. I deserve a love that feels safe, that lifts me up, that allows me to be fully myself without fear of rejection or judgment.

Leaving won’t be easy. It feels terrifying to even think about, but I’m realizing that staying is no longer an option. I’ve sacrificed too much of myself already, and the longer I stay, the more I lose. I don’t want to spend my life in a relationship that makes me feel less than, that drains my energy and dims my light. I want to rediscover who I am, to heal, to find a love that’s gentle, kind, and real.

Why am I in a toxic relationship? Because I believed that this was the best I could do, that this was what love was supposed to be. But now, I’m starting to see that love doesn’t have to hurt. And I’m ready—slowly, painfully—to let go of what’s been holding me back, to reclaim my worth, and to find the strength to walk away from the love that isn’t truly love at all.

-With love, H.

And you tell me about your experience down below?