Okay y’all… Healing from Toxic Relationships without carrying baggage? Yeah I’m still figuring that out in real time, sitting here in my messy apartment outside Philly with cold coffee and rain tapping the window like it’s trying to get in on the therapy session.The very first thing I need to say is that healing from a toxic relationship is not some clean Pinterest-quote glow-up. For like eighteen months after I finally blocked my ex I was still waking up tasting metal in my mouth every time my phone buzzed. Like my nervous system decided “ding” now means “danger, dumbass.” That’s baggage. That’s the crap that travels with you even when the person is gone.
I tried the classic stuff first. You know—delete photos (cried for three days straight), burn old letters (almost set the fire escape on fire because wind), scream into pillows (neighbors definitely thought I was being murdered). None of it magically made the looping memories stop. What actually started chipping away at the weight was way less glamorous and way more embarrassing.
American Express Centurion Lounge Overcrowding Is Out Of Control …
What Actually Started My Healing from Toxic Relationships
First brutal truth: I had to admit I was addicted to the chaos. Seriously. The highs were cocaine-level. The lows were… well, actual rock bottom. But my brain had rewired itself to crave the drama like it was oxygen. So step uno was recognizing I wasn’t just grieving the person—I was grieving the sick rollercoaster I’d gotten used to riding.
I started tracking my triggers in the most low-tech way possible: a shitty Dollar Tree notebook. Every time I spiraled into “maybe they’ve changed” or “I wasn’t that bad,” I wrote:
A Young Man with his Hands on Head · Free Stock Photo
- What just happened?
- What old story am I telling myself?
- What would I tell my best friend if she said this?
That notebook is now 87% curse words and coffee stains but damn if it didn’t help me see the patterns.
Here’s a quick, messy list of shit that actually moved the needle for me (no pretty bullet-point graphics, sorry):
- Therapy—butt-dialed the intake line three times before I actually spoke
- Blocking EVERY mutual friend who still fed me updates (sorry Kayla, love you, had to)
- Walking. Like obsessive walking. Put on sad-girl playlist and just… moved until the thoughts got tired
- Reading Lundy Bancroft’s Why Does He Do That? → https://www.lundywhy.com/ — wrecked me and healed me at the same time
- Finally admitting I was codependent as hell → started listening to the CoDA podcast https://coda.org/ in the car like it was my new religion
Mercado | Uma (in)certa antropologia
Another view of solitary movement in a vast space—walking as both escape and medicine, the body moving while the mind wrestles with codependency truths from CoDA podcasts playing in your ears.
Mercado | Uma (in)certa antropologia
Letting Go of Relationship Baggage Looks Like This (It’s Not Cute)
I still flinch when someone raises their voice even a little. I still check my ex’s Spotify sometimes at 2 a.m. like a dumbass moth to a bug zapper (then hate myself for it).
That’s not failure. That’s just the baggage slowly losing its grip.
The biggest shift happened when I stopped trying to “fix” the past and started treating my present like it mattered. Sounds basic. Feels revolutionary when you’ve spent years believing your worth was tied to how much chaos you could survive.
One Stupid but Helpful Thing I Do Now
Every Sunday I do what I call “baggage inventory.” I literally sit on my couch with a candle that smells like someone’s rich aunt’s house and ask: “What old story am I still carrying this week?” Then I write it down. Then I say—out loud, because I’m extra—“You don’t get to live here rent-free anymore.” Then I rip the page up and flush it. Yes I’ve clogged my toilet twice. Worth it.
If you’re reading this and thinking “God this is so extra,” yeah it is. But healing from toxic relationships without carrying baggage forever isn’t elegant. It’s weird and messy and sometimes involves plumbing issues.
Wrapping This Ramble Up
Look. I’m not “fully healed.” I don’t think that’s even a real place. But I’m lighter. I laugh more. I don’t apologize for existing. I’m dating again and it’s scary as hell but I’m not running old scripts on new people (most days).
If you’re in the thick of it right now, just know the baggage doesn’t have to be permanent. It’s heavy, it’s ugly, it smells like regret and cheap cologne—but you can set it down. Piece by piece. Even if you pick it back up sometimes. That’s allowed.
