Isn’t it strange that when we’re in the middle of a toxic life, we don’t always see it for what it is? We go through the motions — for months, sometimes even years — convincing ourselves that this is normal, this is fun, this is living. And then, when we finally step away, the strangest thing happens: we miss it.
I know that sounds backwards. Why would anyone miss a life that was slowly destroying them? But I’ve been there.
The Pull of the Familiar
For almost a year, I found myself longing for my old life. I missed the people who were in it, the routines, the chaos, even the version of myself I thought I was back then.
But when I look closer at that life, I see what it really was.
That life saw me lying to the people I loved.
That life told me I was having a good time while I was quietly self-medicating just to get through the days.
That life surrounded me with friends who were really enemies.
That life made me miserable. It made me want to die.
So why did I miss it so much?
Because it was familiar.
Sometimes, even misery feels safer than the unknown. The human heart has a strange way of clinging to what it knows, even when what it knows is pain.
Looking Back with Clearer Eyes
Now, nearly a year on, I can see things differently. The fog has lifted. I don’t miss that life in the same way anymore.
I used to be surrounded by people I called my closest friends — people who would talk about me behind my back without hesitation. I used to find myself in rooms where the only encouragement I got was to drink more, take more, spiral more. Not that I needed encouragement — I was drowning all on my own.
Back then, I kept convincing myself I was happy. I smiled, I played along, I told myself this was the life I wanted. But in reality, I was on a steady, slippery descent toward rock bottom.
Choosing Something Different
And now?
Now, my circle is small but genuine. I am surrounded by people who don’t take advantage, who don’t expect anything in return, who simply care. That difference is everything.
I am finally the mum I always wanted to be — not perfect, not polished, but present. Honest. Alive.
I will never be perfect, and I don’t want to be. What matters is that I know who I am now. I know I have a good heart. And most importantly, I know the difference between toxic and healthy, between familiar and safe, between drowning and breathing.
For Anyone Who’s Still Missing It
If you’re reading this and you’re still in that place — still missing the life that hurt you — I want you to know this: you’re not crazy. You’re not weak. You’re not going backwards.
You’re grieving.
It’s normal to miss what was familiar, even if it nearly destroyed you. It’s part of healing. The trick is not to confuse missing it with needing it back. With time, the grip loosens. The fog clears. The ache quiets.
And when it does, you’ll find something better waiting for you. You’ll find yourself.
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