Three weeks after he blocked me on everything, I caught myself driving past his apartment. Again. The same apartment where he screamed at me for “breathing too loud” during his video games. He made me sleep on the couch because I “ruined his mood” by asking how his day went. But there I was, 11:47 PM, sitting in my car like some kind of emotional masochist, missing toxic ex behavior that nearly destroyed me. What kind of broken person misses their abuser?
The Wreckage: When Missing Toxic Ex Becomes Your New Normal
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about toxic relationship feelings — they don’t follow logic. Your brain knows he was poisoned. Your friends have the receipts. Hell, you probably have a Notes app full of screenshots documenting every cruel thing he said. But your heart? Your heart is still back there, replaying the three good days out of 365 bad ones. A woman once told me she missed her ex so much she’d call him from blocked numbers just to hear him hang up on her. “I know he was terrible,” she whispered. “But the silence without him feels worse than the chaos with him.” That line haunted me for weeks.
Because that’s exactly what missing toxic love feels like — choosing familiar pain over unfamiliar peace. You miss the version of him that existed for maybe 10% of your relationship. The one who brought you coffee that one Tuesday. Who held you when you cried about your mom. Who made you feel chosen for exactly 47 minutes before he remembered he preferred you broken. Your nervous system got addicted to the cycle. The fight, the silence, the love-bombing, the repeat. Now that the chaos is gone, your body doesn’t know how to exist in calm.
It’s like your emotional system is going through withdrawal. The cruel part? Everyone expects you to be relieved. “Good riddance,” they say. “You’re so much better off.” And you nod and smile because you know they’re right. But inside, you’re drowning in a grief nobody understands. How do you explain that you miss someone who made you feel worthless? How do you say you’d rather have toxic love than no love at all?
You find yourself scrolling through old photos, analyzing every text for hidden meaning. You remember his laugh more than his cruelty. You catch yourself defending him to friends who witnessed your tears. Except he was. The good moments weren’t the real him breaking through — they were the bait. The intermittent reinforcement that kept you hooked like a slot machine that occasionally pays out. But your trauma-bonded heart doesn’t care about psychology. It just knows it’s lonely now. And lonely feels scarier than being slowly destroyed by someone who at least knew your middle name.
The Reflection: Why Longing for a Toxic Ex Doesn’t Mean You’re Weak
Listen to me. Your emotional abuse isn’t pathetic. They’re not proof you’re broken beyond repair. They’re proof you’re human. You’re not missing him. You’re missing the person you believed he could become. The potential you saw buried under all that toxicity. The love you convinced yourself was hidden behind the walls he built from your tears.
You’re also missing the version of yourself that still had hope. Before you learned that love isn’t supposed to require you to shrink. Before you discovered that the right person doesn’t need you to be smaller to feel bigger. Here’s what’s really happening when toxic relationship feelings won’t let go:
Your attachment system is confused as hell. For months or years, this person was your primary source of both comfort and threat. Your nervous system learned to seek safety from the same person who destroyed it. It’s like being hungry and only knowing one restaurant — even though that restaurant keeps serving you poison. Your body remembers being fed there. It doesn’t remember the food was killing you.
The missing isn’t about him.It’s about the hope you had to bury in order to survive. And grieving hope feels a lot like dying. But here’s the truth they don’t put on Instagram quotes: Missing toxic ex experiences means your capacity for love is still intact. A dead heart doesn’t ache. A heart that’s given up doesn’t long for someone, even someone wrong. Your pain is proof you’re still soft in a world that tried to make you hard.
The shame you feel about these feelings? That’s just your inner critic, sounding a lot like his voice, telling you that wanting love makes you weak. It doesn’t.
Wanting love makes you human. Choosing the wrong love makes you human too. You’re not broken. You’re just learning the difference between attachment and love. Between need and want. Between settling and choosing. Real healing doesn’t mean you’ll never miss him. It means you’ll miss him without needing him back. You’ll remember the good without forgetting the cost. You’ll honor what you learned without returning to school.
The missing will fade, but not like you think. It won’t disappear one day like morning fog. It’ll shrink gradually, like an old scar that only aches when it rains. And someday — I promise you this — you’ll meet someone who loves you without conditions, without drama, without making you earn basic respect. And you’ll realize the difference between toxic love and real love isn’t the intensity. It’s the peace. No, I can’t promise the missing stops tomorrow. These emotional abuse feelings are stubborn like that. But I can promise you this: You’re not pathetic for feeling them. You’re not weak for surviving him. And this chapter where you find yourself missing someone who once hurt you?
It’s not the end of your story. It’s just the unexpected turn in the story right before everything starts to heal.
Why Do I Still Miss My Toxic Ex?
1. Why do I miss someone who does not care for me and who hurt me so much?
Because trauma bonds feel like love. Your brain got trained to associate pain with closeness, chaos with connection. When that cycle ends, even if it was harmful, the silence feels unbearable. You’re not missing the abuse — you’re missing the illusion of safety that existed in between.
2. Does this mean I’m weak or broken?
No. It means you’re human. Longing for love — even in the wrong place — is proof that your heart hasn’t shut down. You’re not broken. You’re healing from a relationship that asked you to betray your own needs just to survive.
3. Everyone tells me I should be relieved he’s gone. Why don’t I feel that?
Because relief and grief can coexist. You are relieved — somewhere deep down — but grief is louder right now. You’re not just mourning him; you’re mourning the dream of what you thought it could be, the version of him you fell for, the version of you that still believed it was love.
4. What is trauma bonding, and is that what I’m feeling?
Yes. Trauma bonding happens when abuse is paired with moments of kindness or affection. It’s like an emotional slot machine — the unpredictable “good moments” hook you, even when you know the bad far outweighs the good. It’s not your fault.
5. Why do I feel lonelier now than I did when I was with him?
Because at least then you were occupied. Now there’s silence — space for grief, truth, and memory to echo. And loneliness is louder when it’s peaceful, because you’re no longer distracted by trying to survive.
6. Will I ever stop missing him?
Yes, but not all at once. The ache doesn’t vanish — it softens. Like a scar that doesn’t hurt until the weather changes. One day, you’ll remember the good without forgetting the cost. And the missing won’t control you anymore.
7. Is it normal to feel ashamed for still loving him?
Totally normal. But that shame? It’s not yours. It’s a byproduct of gaslighting, emotional manipulation, and the unrealistic expectations people place on survivors Love and harm can coexist — but healing means learning they shouldn’t.
8. I keep thinking about the “good version” of him. Was that real?
Parts of it were. But mostly, it was the bait. The love-bombing. The emotional crumbs that kept you hooked. The kindness was never consistent — that’s why you doubted yourself. Real love doesn’t confuse you. Real love doesn’t ask you to bleed just to prove you’re worthy.
9. Why does healing feel worse than staying in the toxic relationship?
Because healing asks you to feel everything — the loss, the disappointment, the truth. Toxic relationships numb you with chaos. Healing leaves you raw. But this pain has a purpose. It leads somewhere better. Toxic love just spins you in circles.
10. How do I know I’m making progress?
If you’re asking these questions, you already are. Every moment you sit with the discomfort instead of texting him, every time you cry without reaching for the old drug, every breath you take without his name on your lips — that’s progress. Healing is messy, nonlinear, and incredibly brave
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