i manifested an abusive relationship

i manifested an abusive relationship because i was a people-pleasing bitch.
i didn’t have real self-love.

and look —
i believe in radical principles of life.
radical accountability.
radical compassion.
radical curiosity.
radical truth-telling.

but here’s how i actually practice them.

when something happens, i assume i have some accountability to take.
not because i caused it —
but because my choices matter.
my thresholds matter.
what i tolerate matters.

i try to extend as much compassion as i can — to myself and others —
limited only by my nervous system, my ego,
and how much pain i’m still digesting.

i stay curious about why i did the stupid thing
instead of immediately crucifying myself.

and i tell the truth.
especially to myself.
at least as much as i can see it without being totally blinded by my own bullshit.

this past year i “manifested” an abusive relationship.

and no — not in the spiritual bypass way.
i don’t believe we manifest other people’s harmful behaviour.
if you’ve been abused, you didn’t make someone hurt you.
their trauma did.
their pathology did.
their unexamined shit did.

what i did manifest was my endurance of it.

the red flags were there from the beginning.
the love-bombing.
the volatility.
the tone-policing.
the boundary violations.
the entitlement.
the gaslighting.
the verbal tirades.
the devaluation.
the DARVO.
the coercive control.
the blame-shifting.
the projection.
the character assassination.
and eventually — the smear campaign.

i didn’t stay because i was clueless.
i stayed because my worth was unconsciously tied to how well i could love someone.
regulate them.
save them.

i mistook empathy for obligation.
i mistook endurance for virtue.
i mistook self-abandonment for depth.

when my value depended on being a “good” partner,
disrespect didn’t feel like a dealbreaker —
it felt like something to work through.
understand.
compassion my way out of.

and here’s the ugly, liberating truth:
the abuse felt familiar.

it matched how i already treated myself.
some part of me thought this was just… love.
that love meant enduring.

i didn’t just tolerate the abuse.
i reorganized myself around surviving it.

my nervous system read intensity as intimacy.
my attachment system read volatility as passion.
my ego read being needed as being valuable.

so when chaos showed up, i didn’t think danger.
i thought depth.

when my boundaries were crossed, i didn’t name it.
i contextualized it.
explained it.
gave it a backstory.

i gave her endless stories.
endless reasons.
anything to explain away what was happening.

people-pleasing isn’t about being nice.
it’s about control.

it’s the belief that if i’m loving enough, calm enough, evolved enough,
i can prevent harm.

and that belief will keep you in situations
that are quietly destroying you
while convincing you that staying is noble.

the hardest part wasn’t admitting i had low self-worth.
the hardest part was realizing my definition of love required self-erasure.

i thought compassion meant tolerating mistreatment.
i thought accountability meant endlessly interrogating myself.
i thought growth meant staying curious while being disrespected.

so i kept asking:
what’s my part?
what’s my shadow?
how can i show up better?

meanwhile — their behaviour didn’t change.

that’s not radical accountability.
that’s one-sided responsibility dressed up as spiritual enlightenment.

here’s another ugly truth:
abusive people don’t need you to be perfect.
they need you to be pliable.

they don’t look for people with no boundaries.
they look for people who override them.

and i was very good at overriding myself.
at self-abandonment.

i told myself i was being evolved.
what i was actually being was afraid.

afraid to leave without a moral justification.
afraid to believe my discomfort was reason enough.
afraid to accept that love doesn’t require endurance as proof.

so yes — i “manifested” an abusive relationship
in the sense that i practiced the skill of staying when i should’ve left.

that’s the accountability.

but here’s the compassion:
that pattern was learned.
it was adaptive once.
it made sense in a world where love felt conditional
and safety felt earned.

and here’s the curiosity:
what part of me thought chaos was normal?
what part of me confused being chosen with being worthy?
what part of me thought love had to hurt to be real?

and here’s the truth — finally:
i don’t want to be someone who can survive abuse anymore.
i want to be someone who finds it intolerable.

not dramatic.
not bitter.
just unavailable.

self-respect isn’t loud.
it doesn’t argue.
it doesn’t convince.
it leaves.

that’s the manifestation i’m interested in now.

anyways —
that’s how i manifested an abusive relationship.
and why i never will again.

so thanks.
and i genuinely pray you see a clinical psychiatrist.