This article explores the emotional and physical signs of energy-draining relationships, identifies spiritual red flags often overlooked, discusses the courage required to exit such relationships, and offers rituals to reclaim your light.
What does it mean when a relationship steals your light?
When we talk about a relationship "stealing your light," we are referring to connections that drain your energy, diminish your self-worth, and blur your personal boundaries. These relationships often start with intense passion or deep spiritual connection but gradually become sources of emotional exhaustion and confusion.
In such relationships, you might find yourself constantly questioning your value, feeling guilty for asserting your needs, or compromising your beliefs to maintain peace. Over time, this can lead to a loss of identity, where you no longer recognize who you are outside the relationship.
It is essential to understand that healthy relationships should uplift and energize you, not leave you feeling depleted and lost. Recognising when a relationship is stealing your light is the first step toward reclaiming your energy and reestablishing your boundaries.
How do energy leaks manifest emotionally and physically?
Energy leaks in relationships can manifest in various emotional and physical symptoms. Emotionally, you might experience persistent anxiety, mood swings, irritability, or a sense of hopelessness. Physically, these leaks can lead to chronic fatigue, headaches, sleep disturbances, and a general feeling of being unwell.
These symptoms often occur when you're constantly giving more than you're receiving, suppressing your emotions, or walking on eggshells to avoid conflict. Over time, this imbalance can take a significant toll on your mental and physical health, making it crucial to identify and address these energy drains promptly.
What are the 6 spiritual red flags often ignored?
-
Manipulation : Using spiritual beliefs or practices to control or guilt-trip you.
-
Unbalanced give-and-take: Consistently giving more energy, time, or resources than you receive.
-
Isolation from support systems: Being encouraged or forced to distance yourself from friends and family.
-
Constant criticism or belittlement: Regularly being made to feel inadequate or unworthy.
-
Feeling drained after interactions: Consistently feeling exhausted or emotionally depleted after spending time together.
-
Loss of personal identity: Gradually losing touch with your interests, beliefs, or sense of self.
Recognizing these red flags is vital to protect your energy and maintain healthy boundaries in your relationships.
Why is recognizing toxic spiritual relationships crucial?
Toxic spiritual relationships can be particularly insidious because they often masquerade as deeply meaningful connections. They may involve shared spiritual practices, beliefs, or goals, making it harder to identify the toxicity. However, these relationships can lead to significant emotional and psychological harm, including diminished self-worth, increased anxiety, and spiritual confusion.
By recognizing the signs of toxic spiritual relationships, you can take steps to protect your well-being, reestablish your boundaries, and seek healthier connections that genuinely support your growth and happiness.
What is the courage behind self-honoring exits?
Leaving a toxic relationship, especially one with spiritual undertones, requires immense courage. It involves acknowledging that the connection is harmful, facing the fear of being alone, and taking steps toward healing and self-discovery.
Self-honoring exits are about choosing your well-being over the comfort of familiarity. They involve setting firm boundaries, seeking support, and embracing the journey of rediscovering your light. While the process can be challenging, it ultimately leads to greater self-awareness, empowerment, and the freedom to build healthier relationships in the future.
How can energy rituals help reclaim your light?
Sometimes, before we even realise it, we’re carrying around energetic weight that doesn’t belong to us. If you’ve ever walked into a room and felt instantly heavy—or left a conversation feeling inexplicably low—that’s your energy trying to tell you something. When we are entangled in toxic spiritual relationships, our aura (our energetic field) becomes clouded, dim, even fragmented. Reclaiming your light isn’t just symbolic; it’s an energetic necessity.
So what exactly can you do to restore that radiance?
1. Begin with energetic hygiene
Think of this as the spiritual equivalent of brushing your teeth. Daily practices like smudging your space with sage or palo santo, placing a bowl of salt near your bed, or taking salt baths help clear stagnant energy. Even more powerful? Whispering a simple phrase aloud: “I call back all my energy, cleansed and protected.” Don’t underestimate the power of intention—energy listens.
2. Create a ‘no entry without permission’ policy
Many of us are walking around with open-door auras. Anyone can come in, dump their baggage, and leave—especially in relationships where manipulation is masked as affection. It’s time to seal those doors. Visualise a golden bubble around you every morning. It’s a boundary. Say internally, “Only energy aligned with love and truth may enter.” If something doesn’t feel right, trust it.
3. Journal, burn, bury
This is one of the oldest rituals I know—and still the most profound. Write down everything you wish to release. Every “I’m not enough,” every “Why wasn’t I loved better?” Then burn it in a safe space (a fireproof bowl or an outdoor setting works well). As the paper turns to ash, say, “This no longer belongs to me.” Bury the ashes in soil to transmute the pain into new life. It’s not just about letting go—it’s about transmuting the energy into something fertile, something free.
4. Reconnect to source (whatever that means for you)
Whether it’s God, the universe, your higher self, or your ancestors—reach out. Speak out loud. Cry. Scream. Whisper. Spiritual toxicity often isolates us from our source of strength. Reconnection is like plugging your soul back into its charger. You don’t need the right words. Just honesty. That’s all the divine ever asked for.
5. Claim Joy again, guilt-free
There’s a strange guilt that comes with healing. Like if you laugh again, you’re betraying the pain. But hear this: your light doesn’t dim your integrity. It restores it. Blast your favourite song, wear something that makes you feel magnetic, flirt with life again. Joy is your rebellion. Joy is your homecoming.
I often say healing isn’t about going back to who you were before the damage. It’s about becoming someone who honours what they survived. Energy rituals are your toolbox for that journey. They aren’t just spiritual—they’re deeply practical. They remind you that you have the power to choose your frequency, your space, your sacred no.
And if you’re wondering, “Is it okay that I still miss them?” Yes, it is. Missing someone doesn’t mean you were wrong to leave. It means you’re human. But your light? Your light is worth everything.
For those still struggling to recognise what’s real and what’s manipulation cloaked in spiritual language, read Lust Isn’t Evil, It’s Misunderstood. It untangles the spiritual shame wrapped around desire and shows how our soul’s yearning can be pure, even when others distort it.
When should you consider a boundary breakthrough session?
Some of us were never taught how to say no. Others learned that boundaries were selfish. Many of us grew up in families where love came with strings, and silence was safer than the truth. So when people ask, “When should I book a session like this?” my answer is: the moment your peace feels like it’s on loan to someone else.
Let’s make it plain: boundaries aren’t walls to keep love out—they’re doors that decide who deserves to walk in.
Here’s when a Boundary Breakthrough Session can change everything:
-
You’re constantly drained after certain interactions, but still feel guilty about setting limits.
-
You’ve ended a toxic relationship, but fragments of their influence still linger in your body, your choices, your sleep.
-
You know something’s off spiritually, but you can’t articulate it—and it’s making you feel ‘crazy’.
-
You find yourself saying “yes” when your soul is screaming “no.”
-
You attract the same draining patterns in different people.
A session like this is strategy + soul work. It’s about co-creating a boundary blueprint that honours who you truly are. And if you’ve been stuck in spiritual relationships that promised transformation but only delivered trauma—this is your exodus plan.
Ready to restore your peace? Book your Boundary Breakthrough Session now. Your light’s been dimmed for long enough.
How do toxic relationships affect your spiritual journey?
There’s a kind of betrayal that doesn’t shout—it whispers through sleepless nights and silent screams in the mirror. It’s the kind where someone doesn’t just steal your heart—they siphon your soul.
Let me tell you about Shanu.
She’s 27. Five foot eight. A dazzling spirit with galaxy-sized dreams. From the outside? She looked like she had it all figured out. Shanu wanted to be a billionaire. Not for the flex—but for the freedom. “I want my name to mean something,” she once said. “Not just whispered in a room, but carved in legacy.”
She loved travelling—Santorini in summer, Leh in winter. Her Instagram was full of aesthetic cafés and candid laughter. She wore ambition like perfume—unapologetically bold, intoxicating. Shopping wasn’t vanity to her—it was expression. “Clothes are armour,” she’d joke. “Today I slay in silk, tomorrow I dominate in denim.”
Then she met him.
He was spiritual. Or so he said.
Talked about chakras and “divine unions,” quoted Rumi in DMs, taught her how to “raise her vibration.” At first, she felt like the universe had finally matched her frequency.
But slowly, the light began to dim.
First, he questioned her dreams. “Why do you want money? That’s ego, Shanu. Real spiritual women don’t chase status.” Then it was her travel. “Wandering is running. Why can’t you stay grounded—with me?”
He framed control as concern. And she mistook criticism for care.
He’d call her “unhealed” every time she asserted herself.
When she cried, he told her it was “low vibrational.” When she got angry—rightfully so—he told her she needed shadow work. What she really needed was freedom.
Eventually, Shanu stopped posting. Stopped shopping. Stopped travelling. Her laughter grew quieter. Her world shrank.
And worst of all?
She began apologising for who she used to be.
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispered during a session, tears making constellations on her cheeks. “It’s like... he made me believe my fire was a flaw.”
She was not broken—she was gaslit.
She was not dramatic—she was dismantled.
That’s the cruel genius of a toxic spiritual relationship: it convinces you that your trauma is your fault, and your healing must happen on their terms.
Shanu's anger wasn’t her enemy—it was her protector. As explored in Why Anger Comes After You Try to Be Too Nice, anger often visits when we’ve silenced ourselves too long. It’s not destruction—it’s direction. A sacred flame lighting the path out of darkness.
Shanu found her way back—not all at once, but breath by breath. She started small: wore red lipstick again. Blocked his number. Danced in her living room alone, like the universe was watching. Her dreams returned like old friends.
No, she’s not a billionaire yet. But she’s rich in something rarer: self-worth.
If you're reading this with trembling hands or blurry eyes, maybe it’s because you see yourself in her story. Maybe you are Shanu. Or maybe you are the friend watching a Shanu fade.
Don’t let your light flicker out for someone who says dimming it is “spiritual.”
What are the psychological impacts of energy-draining relationships?
There’s a particular exhaustion that no nap can cure.
It’s the exhaustion that creeps in when you’re constantly adjusting yourself to fit someone else’s version of “enough.” The exhaustion of always tiptoeing around another person’s moods while swallowing your own needs.
Energy-draining relationships aren’t just emotionally taxing—they can cause lasting psychological trauma.
Let’s talk about what that looks like behind closed doors.
1. You begin to question your reality
It’s called gaslighting, and it’s more than just a buzzword. In these kinds of relationships, you’re often told you're "too sensitive," "overreacting," or "imagining things." Over time, you start second-guessing your memories, your instincts, even your feelings. This erodes your confidence and leaves you emotionally paralysed. You become a shell—functional, but far from full.
2. You feel anxious, even when things Seem ‘Fine’
That’s the thing about trauma—it doesn’t care if the coast looks clear. Your body remembers what your mind tries to forget. The nervous system gets stuck in a loop of hypervigilance. You flinch when the phone rings. Your stomach drops when they sigh. You're constantly on alert, because your peace has never been predictable.
3. You start filling the void with numbness
Some people overwork. Others overeat. Many scroll endlessly through social media or binge-watch shows to avoid facing the silence. And more often than not, people fall into new relationships too quickly—not because they’ve healed, but because they're terrified of the emptiness.
But here’s the brutal truth: a new face won’t heal an old wound. That ache you feel isn’t always loneliness—it’s the echo of your unmet needs. Before you leap into the next connection, ask yourself—Are You in Love, or Just Filling a Void? That one question could save you years of heartache.
4. You stop trusting yourself
Maybe the worst part of toxic spiritual relationships is how they convince you that your intuition is broken. You once trusted your gut. But now? Now you question everything. You seek validation for decisions you used to make instinctively. Your inner voice? It whispers now. Sometimes it goes silent altogether.
But you need to know this: your intuition isn’t gone—it’s just been drowned out. Beneath the noise of their manipulation, your wisdom still lives. It's waiting for the day you finally listen.
5. You lose your spark
This isn’t poetic. It’s neurological. Prolonged exposure to stress and manipulation actually changes your brain. Your dopamine levels shift. You feel joy less intensely. Colours fade. Music doesn’t move you. Laughter feels distant. You stop taking selfies, stop celebrating little wins, stop daydreaming about the future.
But here’s where the healing begins: when you realise the spark isn’t dead. It’s just buried under rubble. And like fire under ash, it only takes a breath—your breath—to fan it back to life.
So if you’ve been feeling broken, know this:
You're not broken. You’re buried.
Under years of someone else’s guilt, blame, and projections.
And your liberation doesn’t have to be graceful. Sometimes, healing looks like rage. Sometimes it looks like shaking hands as you block their number. Sometimes it looks like ugly crying in a parking lot because you finally left.
Whatever it looks like—honour it. Honour you.
Your nervous system will need time. Your heart will need rewiring. But one day, you’ll laugh again and mean it. You’ll look in the mirror and see yourself.
And it’ll hurt. Because you’ll realise how long she was gone.
But mostly?
It’ll feel like coming home.
How can one rebuild after leaving a toxic relationship?
The end of a toxic relationship doesn’t always feel like freedom. Sometimes, it feels like grief. Not just for the person—but for the version of yourself that tolerated being mistreated, misunderstood, and slowly erased.
Let’s be honest: healing doesn’t begin with spa days and affirmations. Healing begins with emptiness.
It’s waking up and not having their name on your screen—and suddenly not knowing what to do with the silence. It’s eating alone. Sleeping alone. Crying into a hoodie that still smells like them.
And it’s realising: you miss the idea of them more than the reality.
Because the reality? That was full of apology-shaped apologies that meant nothing. You got used to “I’m sorry” without change. And that’s where the trauma nested.
If you’ve ever been in that place—let me introduce you to this beautiful piece: The Weight of Apologies: A Tale of Love. It explores how empty apologies can weigh heavier than silence—and how real love should never require you to shrink.
So where do you go from here?
1. Start with a sacred cleanse
Not just your space—your mind. Your social media. Your text history. Delete. Unfollow. Archive. Light a candle, say goodbye. It doesn’t matter if they meant well. What matters is that you mean well—to yourself.
2. Rebuild your inner dialogue
After long-term emotional manipulation, your inner voice might sound suspiciously like theirs. Critical. Dismissive. Cold. It's time to reintroduce yourself to kindness.
Try this: every time you think “I’m so stupid,” follow it up with, “Wait, would I say that to a friend?” If not—rewrite it. “I made a mistake. But I’m learning.” This isn’t toxic positivity—it’s neural reprogramming.
3. Reclaim your joy bit by bit
Don’t pressure yourself to do it all at once. Go back to the café you avoided. Put that song back on your playlist. Paint your nails red again. Buy the outfit they said was “too much.” Travel solo. Post the photo. You’re not performing for validation anymore—you are remembering who you were before someone told you who to be.
4. Let new people in—But slowly
You’ll be tempted to replace the pain with company. But real healing is about discernment, not distraction. Learn the difference between chemistry and compatibility. Between charm and character. Between someone who understands your wounds and someone who plans to exploit them.
5. Keep a “Proof of progress” journal
Every time you do something bold—speak up, cry without shame, say no without guilt—write it down. Healing is slow, and sometimes you’ll forget how far you’ve come. Your journal becomes your mirror, reflecting strength you can’t always see in real-time.
6. Forgive yourself for not leaving sooner
This is big. Stop punishing yourself for what you didn’t know when you were just trying to survive. You stayed because you hoped. Because you loved. Because you believed. That’s not weakness—that’s humanity. And now that you’ve walked away?
That’s power.
Rebuilding isn’t about becoming who you were before—it’s about becoming someone wiser, wilder, more rooted in truth.
And here’s the most sacred truth of all:
You were always enough. Even when they made you forget.
What role does self-worth play in maintaining healthy boundaries?
Boundaries aren’t just about saying no.
They’re about saying yes—to peace, to dignity, to your worth.
But here’s the hard truth: when you don’t believe you deserve better, you’ll keep accepting less. And self-worth? That’s not some cute affirmation on a vision board. It’s the core wiring of your soul. It’s how you teach the world to treat you.
Many of us grew up without models of healthy boundaries. We saw our mothers tolerate, our fathers silence their emotions, our elders call endurance “strength.” So we inherited this idea that love meant sacrifice—sometimes of everything, including ourselves.
But love without respect is not love. It’s obligation in disguise.
The vicious cycle of low self-worth
If you’ve been in a toxic relationship, you already know this cycle:
-
You give too much.
-
You get too little.
-
You blame yourself.
-
You try harder.
-
You burn out.
-
You apologise for having needs.
-
Repeat.
And somewhere in the middle of this loop, your soul starts whispering, “This isn’t love. This is survival.”
But breaking that cycle means looking in the mirror and meeting your own eyes with compassion—not criticism. It means finally saying, “I’m not hard to love. They were just unequipped to love deeply.”
Boundary-setting as self-honouring
Setting boundaries isn’t confrontation—it’s clarity. It’s telling someone: “This is where I end, and you begin.” It’s not about rejection—it’s about protection. Of your time. Your energy. Your essence.
If you're struggling with loneliness while maintaining these boundaries, you're not alone. Truth is, loneliness is often the first side-effect of healing. You lose the noise. The drama. The attention. But in that quiet? You find yourself again.
It’s a modern epidemic: being surrounded and still feeling unseen. If that hits home, take a moment to read An Epidemic of Loneliness: Why Are We So Disconnected?. You’ll realise you’re not broken. You’re brave—for choosing real over familiar.
Building self-worth brick by brick
You don’t wake up one day suddenly overflowing with self-love. It’s not a leap—it’s a ladder. And every “no” you say, every moment you choose yourself, every boundary you protect—it’s a rung.
Try this:
-
Start each morning with a mirror affirmation. Not just “I love you”—but “I see you. I honour you. I’m proud of how far you’ve come.”
-
Write a letter to your younger self. Apologise for every time you doubted her worth.
-
Surround yourself with people who don’t just tolerate you—but celebrate you.
Because the right people won’t make you shrink to fit their comfort.
They’ll expand with you.
They’ll water your growth.
They’ll remind you that you don’t have to dim your light to be loved.
And most importantly?
They’ll never make you question your worth in the first place.
How can you support others in toxic relationships without losing yourself?
It’s one of the hardest positions to be in: watching someone you love slowly disappear inside a relationship that’s draining the life from them.
They’re not who they used to be. Their light is dimmer. Their laughter has an echo of doubt. They cancel plans, stop dressing up, apologise for things they never used to. And you, the witness, the friend, the sibling, the colleague—you feel helpless.
But here’s the thing: you can hold space without holding their pain.
1. Start by listening Without fixing
They don’t need your solutions. They need your presence. Toxic relationships already flood them with noise—criticism, confusion, coercion. What they’re starving for is silence that listens, a gaze that doesn’t judge, a voice that says, “I believe you.”
So when they say “I’m fine,” look deeper. Ask gently: “Are you really? Because I miss the way you used to light up.”
Sometimes, that’s all it takes to crack open the cage they’re locked in.
2. Avoid shaming them
Please, don’t say things like:
-
“Why don’t you just leave?”
-
“You’re smarter than this.”
-
“If I were you, I’d never put up with that.”
Because when you say that, what they hear is: “You’re weak. You’re stupid. You deserve this.”
They’re already hearing that from the one hurting them. Don’t echo the abuser’s voice, even accidentally.
Instead say:
-
“I’m here when you’re ready.”
-
“You don’t deserve this.”
-
“I know it’s not easy. I’m not going anywhere.”
3. Share stories, not warnings
Rather than preaching or pointing fingers, offer stories. Yours, if applicable. Or others’. When people hear, “This happened to me too,” it makes their pain less isolating. It makes the exit feel possible. It turns survival into solidarity.
4. Give them resources, not ultimatums
Send them articles like this one. Leave a book on their table. Suggest a boundary workshop. Mention therapy as an option without pushing it. Leave breadcrumbs of healing on their path—they’ll follow them when they’re ready.
You can even gently say:
“I read something today that reminded me of what you’re going through. It made me cry. Want me to send it to you?”
That small offer could change everything.
5. Protect yourself too
Here’s what no one tells you: supporting someone in a toxic relationship can become emotionally toxic for you. Their constant breakdowns, their pullbacks, their silence, their pain—it becomes yours. And if you don’t have boundaries of your own, you’ll drown trying to save someone else.
Remember: you’re the lifeboat, not the ocean. You can offer support, but you can’t swim for them. They must choose the shore.
6. Celebrate their micro-courage
Did they speak up for themselves today? Did they block his number? Did they go to therapy? Did they finally say “I’m tired”?
Celebrate the hell out of that.
Because sometimes, the smallest act of rebellion feels like a revolution.
And your voice, cheering them on, might be the first kind one they’ve heard in weeks.
Here’s what I know for sure: nobody walks away because you told them to. They walk away because something inside them finally believes they’re worth more.
So be the mirror.
Be the reminder.
Be the quiet voice that says, “You deserve love that doesn’t hurt.”
How do cultural and societal norms influence perceptions of toxicity?
We grow up soaked in stories.
Stories that tell us love means sacrifice. That women must endure, that men must protect, that pain is passion, and silence is strength. These aren’t just beliefs—they're cultural viruses passed down in the name of tradition, duty, or “what will people say?”
And they shape how we respond to toxic relationships.
“Every relationship has problems” Isn’t a free pass for abuse
We have all heard it—at weddings, during family interventions, in teary late-night conversations: “No relationship is perfect.”
But there’s a difference between imperfection and oppression.
One forgets to do the dishes.
The other chips away at your soul and calls it love.
Cultural conditioning often teaches us to value loyalty over sanity. Especially in communities where appearances matter more than emotional safety, people (especially women) are encouraged to stay, tolerate, endure—even when their spirit is breaking.
You’ll hear phrases like:
-
“You’ll ruin the family name.”
-
“What will your in-laws think?”
-
“No man is perfect. Adjust.”
Adjust? For what? For emotional neglect? For subtle control? For gaslighting?
No thank you.
Why we mistake control for care
Many cultures praise self-sacrifice and shame self-expression. So when someone tells you not to wear that, not to post that, not to speak that—it is framed as love.
“I’m just looking out for you.”
But control isn’t care—it’s camouflage.
Real love doesn’t feel like censorship. It feels like expansion. You grow more into yourself—not less.
Why people stay silent
In societies where mental health is taboo, or spiritual pain is minimised, people stay silent.
A woman might suffer for years, dismissed by elders who tell her to “pray harder.”
A man might stay in a manipulative relationship, ashamed to speak up because vulnerability is mistaken for weakness.
A non-binary person might endure spiritual invalidation daily, ridiculed by those who weaponise religion against identity.
So they suffer in silence.
Until silence becomes sickness.
Breaking the cycle means breaking the rules
Here’s the truth they don’t want you to hear:
You can love your culture and still question it.
You can respect your elders and still reject their outdated ideologies.
You can honour your ancestry and still carve a path that doesn’t include generational trauma.
You can be both rooted and rebellious.
The cycle only breaks when someone is brave enough to say, “This ends with me.”
That someone might be you.
What resources are available for those seeking help?
There comes a point in every healing journey where you realise: you can't do this alone anymore.
And you shouldn't have to.
The wounds caused by toxic spiritual relationships aren’t always visible—but they are real. And they deserve real support, not just spiritual bypassing or well-meaning but shallow advice. Thankfully, there’s an expanding web of resources for people reclaiming their light after emotional erosion.
Here’s where to begin.
1. Therapists who understand spiritual abuse
Not all therapists are trained to recognise the unique patterns of spiritual manipulation. Seek trauma-informed professionals who specialise in:
-
Narcissistic abuse
-
Codependency
-
Religious/spiritual trauma
-
Boundaries and inner child work
2. Books that become Friends on Dark days
Books can become bridges—between confusion and clarity, pain and power.
Here are a few soul-saving reads:
-
“The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk — on how trauma lives in the body.
-
“Attached” by Amir Levine & Rachel Heller — to understand your patterns in relationships.
-
“Set Boundaries, Find Peace” by Nedra Glover Tawwab — a masterclass in boundary-building.
3. Online support groups and forums
Sometimes the best therapy is knowing you’re not alone.
Join safe spaces like:
-
Reddit’s r/raisedbynarcissists or r/ExChristian
-
Facebook groups focused on healing from toxic relationships
-
Spiritual trauma recovery spaces on Discord
Reading others’ stories helps name your pain. Sharing your own begins the alchemy.
4. Energy healers and coaches
When you’re ready to do the soul work—releasing shame, restoring your vibration, rebalancing your system—seek out trained coaches and energy practitioners. But be cautious: not everyone who calls themselves a healer is safe.
Check reviews. Ask for testimonials. Trust your gut.
You may want to begin with a Boundary Breakthrough Session. It’s not about just cutting people off—it’s about remembering who you are beneath the scars.
5. Content that heals, not just entertains
Start curating your feed. Unfollow people who glorify hustle over healing. Block those who romanticise toxicity.
And follow those who speak your language of liberation.
Begin with:
-
Tushar Mangl’s blog: www.tusharmangl.com
-
Instagram: @TusharMangl
-
YouTube Channel: Tushar Mangl
Sometimes, the right post at the right time feels like a lifeline.
Healing doesn’t happen in isolation.
It happens in community. In safe containers. In conversations that hold your pain without trying to silence it.
And most of all?
It happens when you choose you. Again and again.
Is it time to walk away?
Maybe you’re still holding on. Maybe you're still praying they’ll change. That they'll see your pain, honour your love, respect your boundaries.
But let me say what you already know in your bones:
Love should never cost you your light.
The right relationship won’t exhaust your nervous system or make you choose between peace and passion. The right person won’t confuse control with care or call your clarity “confusion.”
You deserve a connection where you can breathe freely, laugh loudly, cry without shame, and grow wildly. Where your soul doesn’t feel like it's wearing handcuffs.
So if you’re asking yourself whether to walk away...
That question is your answer.
Walk away. Not in bitterness—but in honour. Not in haste—but in truth.
Walk away not because they don’t deserve love—but because you do.
And if no one’s told you this lately: I see your pain. I honour your bravery. And your light? It’s not gone.
It’s just waiting for you to choose it.
📞 Ready to reclaim your boundaries?
FAQs
1. How do I know if my relationship is spiritually toxic?
Look for subtle control masked as “concern,” manipulation cloaked in “growth,” and the constant feeling that you’re never “healed enough” to deserve love. If the relationship drains more than it restores—you already know.
2. Why do I miss someone who hurt me?
Because trauma bonds mimic love. Your nervous system got addicted to the highs and lows. Missing them isn’t weakness—it’s withdrawal. Healing will help you differentiate love from survival.
3. Can someone change if they’re truly sorry?
Yes—but only if they take accountability without deflection, seek help, and consistently show growth. Words mean nothing without aligned actions. You are not required to wait around for potential.
4. What if I feel lonely after leaving them?
That loneliness is sacred space—where you meet yourself again. Fill it with self-respect, community, ritual, and joy. The temporary ache is nothing compared to the long-term agony of staying small.
5. How do I build back my self-worth?
Start with your boundaries. Practice daily rituals. Keep promises to yourself. Surround yourself with mirrors, not critics. Rebuild with compassion—because you’ve always been worthy. Even when you forgot.
Note: For more inspiring insights, subscribe to the YouTube Channel at Tushar Mangl or follow on Instagram at @TusharMangl
Comments