Let me tell you a story.
There was a time I thought love meant tolerating someone’s pain… even when they aimed it at me.
He was charming—funny, smart, magnetic. The kind of man who could talk you into believing the sky was green and have you defending it in a courtroom. But behind the charm was a storm that didn’t just rain—it thundered. And I, thinking I could be his calm, stayed. I held the umbrella, I soaked in the pain, and I kept trying to hand him dry towels.
Every time he raised his voice, I told myself he’s just going through a lot. Every time he shut down emotionally, I thought maybe he just needs more love. I excused the coldness, the dismissiveness, the snide remarks. I thought if I just love him a little harder, maybe he’ll feel safe enough to love me back.
But here’s what I learned the hard way:
Hurt people do hurt people.
But that doesn’t mean you have to be the one they hurt.
We don’t get medals for surviving someone else’s trauma.
We don’t win by proving how much we can endure.
And healing isn’t found in becoming someone’s emotional punching bag.
He had been through things—I know that. Abandonment, neglect, betrayal. I listened to those stories, over and over, until I memorized them like a sad bedtime tale. I gave grace. Over and over. Until there was none left for me.
And when I finally walked away—when I finally chose me over his chaos—I thought the pain would end.
It didn’t.
Because by then, I was the one bleeding.
And I didn’t even realize it… until I started cutting others with the sharp edges he left behind.
I became cold. Distant. Suspicious. I snapped at people who were only trying to love me. I ghosted friends for asking too many questions. I lashed out at new partners the moment they got too close. I assumed everyone would hurt me eventually, so I hurt them first—just to beat them to the punch.
I was becoming him.
Not in the same way, maybe. But the energy was the same.
I was now the one bleeding on people who hadn’t cut me.
I was now the one handing out emotional bruises without even knowing it.
That’s what these cycles do.
They turn the victim into the villain if you’re not careful.
They turn love into something heavy and sharp, instead of safe and soft.
And they convince you that trust is a fairytale, and vulnerability is a trap.
But it’s not.
It took me a long time to see it… and even longer to admit it. But once I did, the healing could finally start. I had to stop pointing fingers at the person who hurt me and start looking in the mirror. I had to own the damage I was now doing to others. I had to apologize. I had to slow down. I had to stop punishing people for what someone else did.
Yes, hurt people hurt people.
But healed people stop the cycle.
And to the version of me who didn’t know better yet: I forgive you.
But to the version of me now: Do better. Love better. Heal harder.
Because this cycle? It ends with me.
