don’t you know that you’re toxic?


Some people come into our lives like bombs. Like their love is a threat. While our lives crumble around us, we focus intently on this little device, trying every way we can think of to decode, diffuse, disarm it, all the while knowing how probable it is that it will explode in our faces. Our friends flee, our families are crushed by falling rubble, our enemies shrug, and our future selves weep watching us. But we chip away, clipping wires, buying time. Like lives depend on it.

Imagine how things would be if instead of expending all that energy working/worrying/chasing/negotiating/pleading with that landmine love, we spent it on ourselves? And on the love we know we have? Imagine.

We take to that explosive like there aren’t millions of other people out there who could treat us so much better, when truly there’s no need to lose our youth and innocence when we know it’s only going to burn. So much hope we have for what we do possess, so little faith we have in who we are and what we could have if we believed we deserved it.

But the truth is an explosive too. Compared to that little bomb, the truth rains nuclear throughout our lives when it hits. A dreadful analogy to be sure, but when you know what horror some people have faced, how can you continue to accept the horrific behaviour of someone you owe nothing. Perhaps you owe them the freedom to understand the consequences. Perhaps you owe them the glory of you, fully realised and flourishing, not for them to be bitter about or saddened by, but proud they know when to give a good thing up for it to become the best thing for all involved.

Amanda Palmer wrote about an old adage…
“A farmer is sitting on his porch in a chair, hanging out. A friend walks up to the porch to say hello, and hears an awful yelping, squealing sound coming from inside the house.
“What’s that terrifyin’ sound?” asks the friend.
“It’s my dog,” said the farmer. “He’s sittin’ on a nail.”
“Why doesn’t he just sit up and get off it?” asks the friend.
The farmer deliberates on this and replies:
“Doesn’t hurt enough yet.” 

And this adage was the truth that rocketed through my life, stripping my defences and excuses. And little by little, I am getting up. I am barking back. Because I’ve realised a couple of things:

That there is a big difference between “I am who I am” and “I do what I want”.
That in this big, wide world there is no worse thing than needless pain.
That once really is enough. And sorry is not.
That it’s OK if this time isn’t it. There will be more if you want more.
That it’s OK if this time is it, but you don’t want any.
That the only reason they know how to hurt me, is because I taught them.
That the only reason they continue to hurt me, is because I let them.
And that the reason we love toxic people, is because we think we’re asking a lot in return.

When it comes to love, I genuinely believe that “you can’t love me, until you’ve hated me”. If the love endures past the hatred, or if the love dissolves the hatred, then you know it’s real. If the hatred lingers, if it grows, if it forms into meanness, dismissal, violence or torment, then you know what you need to do. Put the bomb down, suck the poison from the wound, take a shower, forgive, forgive, forgive, and remember you did all of that because you know how to love you. And for all that it may sting, for all that it may sicken, for all that it may scar, isn’t that a good thing?



I would do anything for love (but I won’t do that)


I’m mad at you.
I’m mad that you’re back at that square you swore over and over you had left behind, took my love and confidence, my advice and my gambling of our friendship to tell you the harshest truth.
I’m mad that my heart breaks for your pain all the same, to see you march back to the start knowing all you know, believing the lie you tell yourself that you’re doing everything you can.

High school is over, so it’s no longer of any value to inject drama into each other’s lives. As for our own lives, contemporary society provides plenty of drama without any self-amplification. Yet when it comes to the pursuit of true love, we thrive on raw nerves and will stop at nothing short of complete decimation of spirit and stability before we relinquish our partner to rebuilding and searching again. But heartbreak is not compulsory to qualification of a meaningful connection between people.

People who hurt you can change, but not always for you. The capability for a person to hurt you, is a remark on the relationship you have, not just what one person does to another. Very few people set out to be malicious, they just do what comes naturally to them based on how they respond to you. And the longer you let them because they swear they’ll change, the harder it becomes to divert from their nature. They might be different, but you have to be different too so they’ve got some understanding of something else to reflect from.

Making it work should feel like salvation, not suffering. Further to the above, many people succeed in solving their relationship’s problems by making the effort and altering their behaviour. But if you can’t articulate what you really need, or if you’re afraid or ashamed to identify what you need because you know the other person can’t provide it? Then all you’re doing is punishing them, and yourself, and turning a healing journey into scar tissue. Fearing being alone, or unliked, and avoiding that fear by maintaining a manipulative or negative relationship is nothing but selfish.

Just because it hurts to see them go, doesn’t mean it won’t hurt if they stay or return
. We don’t live in binary world. Nor do we live in one where we don’t understand the value of pain and mistake in our lives. Our willingness to compromise on certain things is bound to change, I know I have had to challenge myself on my pretty harsh views of tattoos, recreational drugs, casual sex, improper workplace conduct because they were isolating me from those around me and from my own empathy for people who had made errors in judgement as I have in other scenarios. That being said, don’t assume that the resolution to the agony of someone leaving your life is to replace them, or bring them back. We call that a Band-Aid. If you cannot find the resolution inside of you, then that’s worth the time finding and experimenting to reach. Elsewise you are bound to repeat history.

Your relationship should improve life, not consume life, and definitely not destroy it. There is a difference between growth and change.  The fulfilment of your relationship, in my mind, should not equate to foregoing previous fulfilment. Is that love, or martyrdom? When you connect with someone of course the most rewarding component is the discovery of how you relate to each other, how you are magnetised. But when other relationships are impacted negatively by that rerouting of energy and commitment, it is worthwhile recalibrating ALL components to achieve balance, accept the losses, and hold fast to the one relationship imperative to survival: the one you have with yourself.

Don’t lie. Don’t lie. That’s it, don’t lie. Just don’t.


Final note. You can only give so much of yourself to the healing of others, and beyond that it is your power to forgive that matters most. If the actions of others hurts you too much to bear, then that’s on you because their choices are their own to make based on the life they were dealt, just as you want to see the outcomes of your bad choices for yourself. No-one can really tell you, you have to live it. So if you love someone so much that it hurts you to see them saunter right toward suffering? Sort your own struggle, dispense with the drama, and unless it’s going to compromise your very nature, when they need you, be there. Every time. For no other reason than love. Of them, of yourself, of life. Love alone. Love together.



All images intellectual property of Marina Abramovic and Ulay. Please report any concerns to