You’re getting back out there! You’re dating after being the toxic one. Or maybe I should just say, you’re dating after getting out of a toxic relationship.

So you’ve just found the gentle, sweet, non-toxic man of your dreams. He doesn’t yell, he doesn’t lie, he doesn’t do any of the things your therapist tells you to avoid. He communicates his emotions with you, and he has clear boundaries. He’s perfect.

The only thing is: you’re not. (No offense.)

You want to pick fights with him. You want him to gaslight you, so you have a reason to yell at him. You want him to do something a little shady, so you can weaponize his wrongdoings. 

You may have left your toxic relationship behind, but you can’t leave your toxic tendencies with it. 

Why are we like this?

The drastic leap from the venomous, unhealthy relationship to the one that makes you feel safe and at home is always a difficult one. It doesn’t matter how much time you take to heal in between: unfortunately those patterns can only resurface when you find yourself in the position for them to. You may think you’re ready for a relationship, and you could very well be, but you have to destroy the mosaic that created your perception of dating. And often, the only way to do that is by dropping your guard. And no one ever tells you how hard that is. 

My first ever relationship was awful. If he wasn’t cheating on me, he was lying to me. If he wasn’t doing either of those, he was cornering me into screaming matches. Just to emotionally survive (which I was barely doing, mind you), I had to stay on the defense. I had to make assumptions (because, as you can imagine, there was no healthy communication in this relationship), and, while my assumptions were almost always correct, I was punished for making assumptions. I couldn’t win. If I was trying to make my relationship work, I was “pushing” him too far. If I gave up, I was the bad guy for not trying. I wasn’t in physical danger, but I was caught in a constant cycle of emotional agony and torment. 

When I left that relationship, I stayed single for a couple years. I thought I was healing. And, to be fair, I was. But I thought I was completely ready for a new relationship. I thought I was going to be the best girlfriend I could ever be. I was ready to give my all to a new person: and my all was trademarked by healing, growth, and a repellant for toxicity. Or, at least, that’s what I thought. 

I wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship when I found my next serious one. But, again, I was ready to take on the task. Because I was healed. I grew. And I rejected toxicity at every turn. I was the paradigm of emotional health and clarity. I already battled through the war and came out on top. I knew everything there was to know about unhealthy relationships and, thus, from knowing about what not to do, I knew all about what to do. And, of course, my ex was such a terrible partner, it was easy to pin him as being the toxic one. I. Was. Perfect.

So imagine my surprise when I got in this new relationship, and I had to “communicate” with my boyfriend. What do you mean I can’t just bottle everything in? I thought that’s what it meant to be in a healthy relationship, no? Because, in my experience, whenever I address a concern of mine to a significant other, I’m the problem. I shouldn’t have emotions–that’s how relationships are ruined. That’s what I was told. 

And what do you mean he has solid friendships with women? Everytime that happened in the past, it meant, with 100% certainty, that I was getting cheated on. Not to mention, the internet told me that men and women can’t be friends ever, but especially if one or both of them were in a relationship. My best friend’s husband, even, assured me that he would never have a girl best friend because, well, that’s what his wife is for. 

And don’t even get me started on intimacy. Why wasn’t my new boyfriend objectifying me? Why was he so sweet and respectful? It was making me feel undesirable. I felt ugly because he wasn’t treating me like a piece of meat.

When it’s written out like this, you can see how ridiculous this all was. But, at the time, I couldn’t see that. This was all how I really felt. My entire worldview was crumbling.

I wanted to be the soft girl, the girl who was so perfect and gentle and chill. And I got there, eventually. But it took a lot of work and a lot of patience, both from my boyfriend and myself. 

How do you get back into dating after being the toxic one?

We already discovered the transformation to soft girl from being the toxic one isn’t an overnight thing. And it might not even happen while you’re healing from your past relationship. So how do you ditch those bad habits and welcome peace and harmony with open arms?

It’s hard to decipher where the change comes from. Is it a product of receiving better treatment? Or is it a conscious decision to be better and show up as the best possible version of yourself?

From my experience, it’s a combination of both. 

If there’s one discernible thing my first relationship taught me about love, it’s that it’s a battle between two people. If there’s one thing my most recent relationship taught me about love, it’s that we’re a team, a team that battles things together. Feelings shouldn’t turn into fights. Disagreements shouldn’t turn into screaming matches. Arguments shouldn’t have a clear winner and loser. 

Relationships are a budding plant, and the people in it are the gardeners that nurture it. A relationship isn’t just something you find yourself in. It’s something that is yours and your partner’s responsibility to protect. I had to stop looking at my boyfriend as my opponent. We were in it together. If we wanted it to work, we’d both have to put in the effort. Not against each other, but with each other. 

And, with every passing, peaceful day, things got easier. It got easier when I woke up to his soft voice telling me to have a good day, rather than waking up to a man looking through my phone. It got easier when my feelings were validated, rather than being seen as the root of all evil. It got easier when I was with someone who was consistent, not hot-and-cold depending on his anger level toward me that day. 

It gets easier when you realize your relationship is your safe space, not your battleground. 

From hard-edged toxicity to soft vulnerability

Your last toxic relationship taught you that vulnerability would lead to your demise. Your survival instincts are centered around the notion that being open will get you killed. And how do you reject your own intuition? It’s all you’ve ever known. 

Healthy relationships bloom in vulnerability. The only way you can fully love someone and be loved in return is through openness. And that’s a scary realization when you’re coming from a situation where your fragility was thrown in your face or taken advantage of. It sucks that, to find safety, you have to risk putting yourself in harm’s way. 

But there’s always beauty in vulnerability. When you enter that first amazing relationship after the toxic one(s), it’s a breath of fresh air after you’ve been suffocating. It’s a relief. It’s refreshing. It becomes your saving grace. But, to get there, you have to reject everything you’ve known about love. You have to rebuild your worldview from the  bottom up. But once it happens, you’ll never settle for anything less. It’s a lesson you learn for your partner, yes. But it’s a lesson you learn for yourself, too. You love others more when your idea of love isn’t clouded with toxicity. But, most importantly, you love yourself more. Love, in general, comes to you easier. 

And that’s what makes the world go ‘round.