Tag: mental health

The Hoover: When the Past Tries to Suck You Back In

You ever notice how right when you’re finally starting to breathe again — when your skin’s clearing, your soul’s defogging, and your playlist is full of “I’m finding myself” bangers — BOOM.
Your past pops up like a broken vacuum trying to “hoover” you back in.

Yup. The dreaded Hoover.

Who knew the term for an abusive ex’s comeback attempt would sound like something you plug into the wall and cuss at on cleaning day? But honestly… that fits. Because a hoover isn’t here for your good. It’s here to suck the life out of you, the peace out of you, and the progress right out of your hands.

And for a long time, I fell for it.
Not because I was weak — but because I’m loyal. I wanted love so badly I kept hoping the future I imagined would magically show up if I tried harder, loved deeper, or held on longer.

Spoiler alert:
It didn’t.

Why They Hoover

Let’s be real: a hoover is NEVER about their love for you.
It’s about regaining control, attention, and the convenience you used to give them.
It’s a “Hey… I noticed you stopped suffering over me. Mind if I ruin that real quick?” kind of energy.

They sense your strength rising.
They feel their grip loosening.
And suddenly they’re popping up like, “Hey stranger…”
(Yeah, stay a stranger.)

What the Hoover Feels Like

A mix of:

Anger that they think they can stroll back in like you’re on layaway

Sadness for the dream you had

Loneliness whispering, “Maybe just respond…”

A tiny bit of “Damn, I must really be THAT girl if he noticed I’m gone.”

Look — all those feelings are human. None of them mean you’re slipping backward. It just means you’re healing, and healing isn’t neat. It’s dusty, messy, uneven, and looks suspiciously like progress.

How I Handle It Now

I won’t lie — blocking him sucked. It hurt. It made the loneliness louder.
But choosing myself was the only way to stop the cycle.

I had to look in the mirror and say, “Okay, maybe I hate being alone… but I hate being used more.”

And the truth?
I wasn’t still in love with him.
I was just scared of the empty space he used to fill.

Now I’m filling that space with:

Real connections

Peace

Growth

A future that doesn’t depend on someone who walked away

And yes, a little extra sass, because I earned it

The New Rule

If the past comes knocking, it can keep knocking until its knuckles fall off.

I’m not a revolving door.
I’m not a project.
I’m not a cure for someone’s boredom.

And I’m sure as hell not a vacuum bag to be emptied and refilled whenever someone feels like it.

The Bottom Line

The hoover only works if you unplug yourself from your worth.

But you?
You’re plugged into something better now — clarity, strength, and a future where your heart is cherished, not drained.

And even on the lonely days, even on the days you miss the idea of who someone could’ve been… you’re still choosing the version of you who survives, grows, and rises.

That’s the version who wins.

0

“Don’t you know you are being abused?”

“Don’t you know you’re being abused?”

That question was asked to me four years ago, and it still lingers in my mind. At the time, my answer was a very loud and honest “No.”

Why hadn’t I seen the signs? The red flags?

That one question sent me spiraling into my own head, questioning everything I thought I knew about my relationship—and myself. I had never been hit. No bruises. No broken bones. No hospital visits. No made-up stories to hide the truth.

But here’s the thing: psychological, emotional, and verbal abuse can leave scars that no one can see—and sometimes those wounds run deeper than any physical injury.

Realizing I was being abused wasn’t a single moment of clarity. It was a slow, painful awakening.

Second-guessing myself.

Rationalizing his behavior.

Making excuses for him.

Believing things would get better if I just tried harder.


It was an endless loop of confusion.

Now, four years later, the fog has finally lifted. It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t easy, and it was never “fun.” But the healing was necessary—and it saved me.

For those who have never experienced this kind of relationship, it’s easy to ask, “Why didn’t you just leave?”

Here’s why:
If you drop a frog into boiling water, it will jump out immediately. But if you place that frog in cool water and slowly turn up the heat, it will stay until it’s too late.

Abuse works the same way. It starts subtly. The person isn’t cruel from day one—they ease into it, slowly turning up the heat until you don’t recognize the danger you’re in. By the time you do, your sense of reality has been twisted, your self-worth chipped away, and your mind trained to adapt to the pain.

On average, a survivor will leave an abuser seven times before it sticks.

So, if you know someone in an abusive relationship—be patient. Be kind. Don’t shame them for not leaving sooner. Just listen. Support them. Believe them.

They will see it—when their mind is ready, not when you think they should.

0

When the Silence Isn’t Quiet

Some days, the loneliness is loud. Deafening, even.

I wake up, and there’s no one reaching out. No texts. No missed calls. Just the four walls of this apartment and the weight of another long day. No car to escape with, nowhere to go even if I did. My thoughts race, my chest tightens, and anxiety sets in before my feet even hit the floor.

Sleep—sleep is the only peace I get sometimes. The only escape from the echo of isolation.

It’s strange, how I actually look forward to going to work. Not because I love it, but because it gets me out. Around people. Out of my own head. Out of the silence.

So I write. I pray. I clean. I put on music until the wrong song shatters whatever calm I managed to build. I keep the TV on for background noise just to feel like someone else is in the room. And I try not to cry.

Starting this blog has been a leap of faith. A small act of hope that maybe—just maybe—someone out there will read my words and feel seen. Or maybe someone will see me and want to connect. So far? Nothing. But still I write.

It’s not him I miss. Let me be clear about that. It’s not him. It’s the feeling I had when I believed in the illusion. When I thought I had found my forever person. I was happy then. I was silly. In love. Hopeful. I miss her—the version of me who felt safe and loved. I miss being in love. Because when I love, I love big. All in. With everything I’ve got.

But now, I’m learning to turn that love inward. To fall in love with the woman I am. Because I am a good person. I’m loyal, forgiving, weird in the best ways, smart, funny, and honestly—some days I look pretty damn good. I know I’d make an amazing wife, friend, and partner. I know what I bring to the table. And I refuse to let anyone make me question my worth again.

The truth is, the real blessing is that I am no longer with him.

And still—I hold out hope. For love. For connection. For someone who sees me, really sees me, and stays.

So I’ll leave you with the words of Andra Day, because they echo in my soul:

“I’ll rise up, In spite of the ache.
I’ll rise up, And I’ll do it a thousand times again.
When the silence isn’t quiet
And it feels like it’s getting hard to breathe
And I know you feel like dying. But I promise we’ll take the world to its feet And move mountains”

0

“WHAT NOW?” – The aftermath of letting go

I’ve been doing everything I can to make the right choices — to care for myself, to offer myself grace, and to be kind to the voice inside that’s quietly been trying to guide me. I’m learning to release the people, the ideas, the dreams that no longer align with the woman I’m becoming.

I’ve walked away from people I never imagined losing. That kind of grief doesn’t come with a manual. It’s raw. It’s exhausting. But it’s also part of the healing.

For a long time, I fought hard against the direction my life had taken — a direction I didn’t ask for and never wanted. Panic attacks stole my breath. There were nights I curled up on the floor, shaking, crying, afraid of everything and nothing all at once. My thoughts raced. My heart ached with a pain I couldn’t explain — like something had been ripped from the very center of my chest.

The future I once pictured? Gone. Just like that. And in its place was a terrifying blank space. I didn’t know how to rebuild. I didn’t even know where to begin.

All I could ask myself was, “What now?“

But here’s the thing: walking away from that toxic space, as painful as it was, cracked me wide open to something I never saw coming — freedom. The pain, the heartache, the disappointment — it all pushed me to a powerful realization: my future is mine now. Wide open. Untamed. Full of possibility.

It’s been almost a year of no contact. I rarely think about him anymore. And when I do, it’s with clarity, not longing. The lies, the manipulation, the control — they no longer hold power over me. That part of my life is over.

I’m finally starting to recognize myself again — and maybe, even discover someone new. Someone stronger. Someone softer. Someone rebuilding, not out of fear, but out of fierce hope.

I’m not who I was. But I’m not lost.
I’m becoming.

Have you had your own “what now” moment?
Drop a comment or share your story — I’d love to hear where you are in your journey. Whether you’re just beginning to let go or standing strong in your new chapter, you’re not alone. Let’s remind each other: healing is messy, but it’s also magic. 💛

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑