I don’t want to accept my ex’s friend request.
And before the sapphic court of law tries to revoke my queer card for saying that out loud, hear me out. This isn’t about being petty.
She was a Pisces. A classic one. Fantasy-prone, romantic, an old soul with a deep ache in her eyes and a playlist for every possible moon phase. She felt like a dream you didn’t want to wake up from until you realized the dream was getting…weird. Like, “we’re throwing up together from alcohol poisoning on a Wednesday” weird. But also, like, “impromptu threesome at my neighbor’s house” weird. Life with her was a string of vivid, sensual scenes stitched together by poor decision-making and horny ambition.
We met at a queer party (obviously). Our relationship lasted four months — barely. A blink in lesbian time. But while it was brief, it was also one of the most fun, the most deliriously experimental. And if you had asked me during month two, I would’ve sworn we were twin flames, soulmates, trauma-bonded lesbians with matching playlists and matching trauma. Honestly, it was fun. She was fun. Spontaneous and wildly sensual. There was something electric about being with someone who made every moment feel like a performance art piece we didn’t rehearse for. Even the sex was like a fever dream — wild, consuming, borderline illegal. Then again, most of my sex-periences feel like that. We had sex everywhere. Okay, not everywhere, just all over our shared two-bedroom apartment. Our two roommates politely ignored the muffled moaning sounds.
She was also in a relationship when we met. Surprise! Lesbian timelines are lawless. And no, she did not mention it — at first. She said it was on the rocks, “basically over,” and I, being in my delusional rebound era, said: cool, just make sure it’s actually over before we go any deeper. She ended it. Supposedly. Maybe. Probably. I didn’t do a fact check. I just let myself fall into the delicious chaos. We made the best pork fry combo for dinner almost daily. We cried to hopeless romantic music. Danced.
But from the start, there were flags. Not fully red, but a fiery burnt orange.
She couldn’t put the bottle down. Some nights she’d sip whisky like it was water. Once, we drank so much we were vomiting side-by-side, and I had to take myself to the hospital — because she couldn’t. Cute turned concerning real quick.
And the anger. Oof. You know those people who try so hard to be chill, soft-spoken, poetic, and then suddenly they snap and you’re like “am I in danger?” That was her. A Pisces with an alcohol-fueled rage problem. When the banks broke, she melted down in public. Full-on crying, yelling, emotionally combusting in front of friends and strangers. Walked on the other side of the street all the way home. The romantic mystique started to crack. And under it was a human being who needed therapy. (Don’t we all, though?)
She had a compulsive need to rewatch the same sitcoms — Modern Family, Two Broke Girls, Big Bang Theory. I wish I was joking. My brain still plays random laugh tracks against my will. Somewhere in there, a migraine is hiding.
Still, she was thoughtful. She wanted to know me. She made me feel like I was a poem she hadn’t finished reading. I don’t think she meant harm. I think she was just…her. Intense, loving, messy. The kind of person who hugs you like she means it and texts you at 2 a.m. The kind of girl who looks you dead in the eyes and says “you feel like home” three weeks in.
Ultimately, I realized I wasn’t where I wanted to be — not just physically, but emotionally. It was her house. I didn’t have a space to retreat to, to recharge, or to process the way I needed to.
That’s a truth I didn’t want to face. That this was a rebound that overstayed its welcome. That I was trying to replace grief with sensation. That sometimes, intensity is just pain wearing a sexy outfit.
So, we broke up. Well, I broke up with her. She took it gracefully — if you consider sleeping with my neighbor within days “graceful.” Which, honestly? Fair play. We were both young, sad, hot, and trying our best with our worst instincts.
Now, years later, she’s hovering again. In the digital bushes. A pending friend request. A ghost in my inbox.
And part of me wants to click accept. Just to see. Just to say I’m mature. Just to prove it doesn’t affect me anymore. But then I remember how slippery that slope is. How quickly a casual like turns into a DM. How quickly a “haha remember this?” turns into “do you still think about me?”
Of course I do.
I think about her sometimes. I wonder if she’s sober now. I wonder if she’s dating someone who also likes rewatching Two Broke Girls until the serotonin kicks in. I hope she’s soft and safe and not crying in public anymore. But that doesn’t mean I want her inside my life.
Because here’s the real deal: I’m in a relationship now. Not without its dips and wobbles, but grounded. Real. It’s not an erotic novella, but it’s steady, and I like that.
There’s a kind of ex you can be friends with. The kind that left peacefully. The kind you ran into three years later and genuinely wished well. This is not that.
This is the kind of ex that makes your current girlfriend raise an eyebrow when her name pops up. The kind of ex who might send a text in the middle of the night. The kind who lives on nostalgia and little openings. And once you crack that door, she’s in. Like glitter.
I don’t want her watching my stories. I don’t want her seeing the version of me I am now — the version who survived, evolved, softened in some places and hardened in others.
She made me wheeze-laugh mid-thrust and taught me things about my body I’m still unpacking in therapy. But that doesn’t mean she needs access to my life.
She was a season. A fever dream. A glitter bomb of an experience. And I’m grateful. I am. But also: I’m not accepting that friend request.
She can live in purgatory. Where she belongs.
May she heal. May she thrive. May she find someone who will rewatch those shows with her.
Just…not me.
I have come too far to let nostalgia be the backdoor to my peace.
There’s this myth that queers should always stay friends after a breakup. Queer love is beautiful, and queer breakups are messy.
Queer boundaries? Those are sacred.
Well said. Thank you.
Absolutely, and thank you for taking the time to read.
“…sometimes, intensity is just pain wearing a sexy outfit.”
Brava. I should probably tattoo this on my wrist as a warning. To both myself, and others!
Right?! Honestly, I wrote it as a reminder to stop confusing chaos with chemistry. Tattoo it, stitch it on a pillow, write it in the stars. We deserve peace that doesn’t scream.
Love how reading this piece feels like gossiping about an ex together in the most sophisticated way <3
omg such a good way to put it
OMG! That is exactly the vibe I was going for, sophisticated tea with just the right touch of emotional healing. 💅💔 Thank you for reading!
Sorry, but this gossip doesn’t feel sophisticated.
It feels self-important, self-righteous, and desperate for validation.
Not to mention childish.
If Carlo felt intimidated or frighted by her ex, leaving is fine.
Similarly, being a woman who is angry is also fine.
Being not-compatible is fine.
But writing a personal piece on a queer website, targeting an ex, who did not cause pointed and deliberate damage, seems unnecessary and attention seeking.
As far as we are aware, Carlo’s ex did not have a diagnosis, social supports, mental health supports.
If they did, then the damage would be more worthy of being dragged.
I will all caps for emphasis.
IF A PERSON DOESN’T KNOW WHAT IS WRONG, IT’S DIFFICULT TO GET HELP FOR THAT PROBLEM.
IF A PERSON DOES KNOW WHAT IS WRONG, THEY ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR HARM ONTO OTHERS BECAUSE OF THE FAILURE TO MANAGE THEIR SITUATION. IT’S ABUSE/NEGLIGENCE.
These two situations ARE NOT THE SAME, and WILL NEVER BE THE SAME.
They are not comparable. Anyone with half a brain could recognize this.
Publishing a piece like this on social media might lead to the person who has no mental health support/safety nets to experience more severe symptoms and potentially develop new ones.
If you want the person to get help, help them.
If you want to leave, leave them.
But don’t continue to do more harm to someone who is written up to be ‘unstable and in need of help’, instead of ‘they’re getting help, but they fail to do the hard and necessary work to heal and be a good partner.’
Carlo adds harm and hides behind “processing and self-healing”.
Wishing them well, with the additional backhand of ‘but I won’t help you. In fact, I’ll fan the flames,” is morally bankrupt.
You all are just that ready and willing to jump on the train to Carlo’s self-righteous, desperate, validation-seeking pity party, huh?
Even though her ex is part of the community and may use the website.
I guess social media really will be the downfall of humanity after all.
SMH I thought women, especially those in the lesbian community, were better than this.
Sorry to learn that I was wrong.
Queer boundaries ARE sacred.
This is just a stunning piece. I was nodding in agreement and recognition the whole way through.
This part stopped me cold:
“And the anger. Oof. You know those people who try so hard to be chill, soft-spoken, poetic, and then suddenly they snap and you’re like “am I in danger?” That was her.”
I was kind of like that in my 20s, unfortunately. I so wanted to be chill and poetic (I am not) and I’d just ignore my emotions and rage until they exploded in messy, scary meltdowns. 30+ years and a lot of therapy and hard work (and some dumb luck) later, I barely recognize that person.
This comment has been removed as it is in violation of Autostraddle’s Comment Policy. Repeat or egregious offenders will be banned.
I don’t see why my last comment was banned.
Could the moderator who removed my comment please share with me exactly what the problem was with my post so I can avoid the misstep in the future? Thanks.
It is very possible to be chill, poetic, and angry.
And anyone can be harassed, abused, and mistreated to the point of anger meltdowns given enough time and exposure.
I’m glad that you had the time, space, and opportunity to put in the difficult work of healing, cleo.
People who tend to be poetic are easily misunderstood.
People, especially women and afab folks, who display the emotion anger, are easily misunderstood.
Thanks a lot patriarchy and shit societal norms.
Using social media as a weapon of violence instead of a social connector is a problem.
Is it possible that is what Carlo is doing in this personal piece?
Her narrative frames herself as a victim, and her ex as the abuser.
But as far as I can tell, her ex is someone who needs mental health assistance and may very well not know what problems they are wresting with, and thus might not know the best way to handle them.
Sure, that can ‘look’ unstable and can lead to relationship complications, but ‘you can’t know what you don’t know’.
It isn’t neglectful abuse unless at the time Carlo and the ex were together, the ex could identify and name the mental health diagnoses (ideally after seeing a professional), decide to not put in the work to heal, and THEN indirectly cause harm in the process.
If the ex did have diagnoses at the time, I apologize to Carlo for my misreading and misunderstanding. I can only work with the knowledge offered in the piece.
Carlo decided to leave her ex, which is fine.
Carlo could have left this conversation with her therapist or close friends.
Offering the writing in the form of an article on a queer-run website does unfortunately fall into the category of women who put down other women to gain attention, sympathy, and ‘social media victim self-righteous points’.
At this point, I do not believe Carlo is processing her trauma. She is seeking validation, which regrettably will throw a vulnerable population of readers under the bus.
I don’t want to say writing a piece processing the relationship is inherently wrong, but I do object to the framing of Carlo’s writing, or more specifically the put-down of her ex.
Having mental illnesses that are undiagnosed is something many young queer people may live with, experience, and identify with. This is a common reality.
And unfortunately the relationships and even friendships they are participants in will be more complicated because they don’t know how to manage their symptoms or understand what they are dealing with.
I couldn’t blame anyone who identifies with the ex, or as an expressive angry women/queer in general, for reading this personal piece and deciding, “Wow, I thought this was my community but clearly it is not. Maybe I’d be better of leaving.”
Processing failed relationships is great, and I understand the urge to talk shit about your ex to a therapist or close circle of friends. Social media is not the place for this.
And especially not autostraddle, which seems to be an attempt at community building, not community dividing.
Maybe I’m stupid but I just don’t get the amount of validation and support Carlo is getting in the comments.
Don’t accept your ex’s friend request, fine.
I have exes that I never wish to speak to again. I’d leave the state or file for an order of protection first. I get it.
But don’t take a shit on your ex on a center-stage autostraddle personal piece to make yourself feel superior and farm in validation in the comments. This narcissistic behavior illustrates the human decay due to social media. What is acceptable and passable online content is shifting for the worse.
Autostraddle should be better than this.
Hi there,
I appreciate you taking the time to engage with the piece. I hear that it brought up strong feelings for you, and I want to respond with clarity and care.
To be clear, this essay wasn’t written to cancel or vilify anyone. It was a personal reflection about the emotional complexity of boundaries—especially in the aftermath of a relationship that had its highs and lows. I didn’t name my ex, I didn’t diagnose them, and I certainly didn’t mock them. What I did was speak to a moment of unresolved tension—honestly, and yes, poetically. That isn’t cruelty. That’s storytelling.
I understand that for some readers, especially those who have lived with undiagnosed mental illness, it can feel painful to see themselves in the role of “the unstable ex.” But personal narrative isn’t propaganda. It’s not meant to speak for everyone—it’s meant to speak truthfully from someone. In this case, me.
And while I hold compassion for people navigating mental health struggles, that compassion doesn’t cancel out the harm they may cause. Mental illness and accountability can coexist. Saying that someone’s behavior was difficult or hurtful isn’t the same as denying their humanity—it’s acknowledging my own.
To call someone, me, “narcissistic” for sharing my side of the story, particularly in a queer space that explicitly exists for queer storytelling, feels like a misread of both the piece and the purpose of platforms like this one. Autostraddle has always been a home for messy, vulnerable, complex queer stories—including the ones where we’re still figuring things out.
At the heart of this piece was something soft and true: sometimes, an ex tries to come back into your life—and you have to say no, even if part of you still cares. That’s not hate. That’s a boundary. And in writing this, I was honoring mine.
Carlo, no. I am calling your behavior regarding your personal piece narcissistic for your framing, the fact that your ‘sacred boundary’ is putting down a subset of individuals in the community, and the fact that you are not holding yourself accountable in the personal piece.
It is cruel to paint yourself as a victim, cry about your ex’s lack of accountability, all while demonstrating a lack of accountability yourself. Autostraddle can and should do better.
The storytelling and narrative is placing you, center-stage, as a did-no-harm angel, while poking fun at your ex, who might not have even recognized that her coping mechanisms are harmful and masking mental health issues. (Or she might not care if the problematic coping mechanisms are achieving success at managing mental health symptoms- a common reason people don’t seek help earlier.)
I agree accountability is important and can coexist with mental illness, but it’s glaringly obvious and understandable that this is limited for your ex at this time. You seem to be aware of this fact in the piece.
As you say, what ‘brought up strong feelings’ for me is your lack of accountability, Carlo.
Let me be clear. You’re allowed to be upset at yourself for getting swept up by you problematic ex, about your poor boundaries at the time, and about the pain your unhealed ex inflicted. You’re allowed to be a storyteller and grow from a bad experience, and learn what better boundaries look like for you.
But let’s be real- your ex needed help and you didn’t have the capacity to help, and maybe your ex didn’t want your help or anyone’s help.
The damage your ex caused wasn’t deliberate. If your ex was an addict, like you suggest, and didn’t have these safety systems in place, then that awareness of harm or potential harm is not likely to be intact. It wasn’t a failing of your ex for ignoring their treatment plan, or not following through with their healing work if these safety nets do not exist.
This wasn’t your situation, Carlo. You can be a ‘soft storyteller’, but omitting that your boundaries were so bad, that you made the active choice to date someone who uses a copious amount of drugs/alcohol to deal with stressors, and then go so far to participate in the drugging with them, is a significant part of the relationship problem. It’s difficult to say exactly how much responsibility and ownership of the relationship malfunction is on you, but the choice of dating an addict not in recovery, and drugging with them, feels like it’s around half, 50%.
Not discussing your poor boundaries reveals a lack of accountability to yourself and your audience.
Ignoring this nuance and putting 100% of your blame on your ex is not soft or true. It’s a partial truth. The framing that comes with is alienating to others who are on the other half of the relationship malfunction. If you’re going to use your storyteller center-stage to highlight ‘sacred queer boundaries’ you need to be honest about your own shortcomings in the mess.
Having bad boundaries? Check.
Worked on them? Check.
Even if you, like me, were explicitly abused by your ex, who claimed their diagnosis was healing, yet made little effort to work on their mental health, proceeded to sexually assault me, all while they pretend that their diagnosis was healing and that a pill will magically fix their faults and replace the rigorous work of difficult healing and therapy, 5-15% of the blame is still mine.
I know that I am stupid for believing this individual was actually healing, delusional for thinking I could take my healer role into the relationship by helping them heal, and an idiot whose boundaries were simply not good enough.
This is owning accountability- not escaping it, or writing my way around it.
Overall, I agree with you on this- I am not letting any ex who sexually assaulted me or domestically abused me back into my life. I don’t care if they’ve healed or not anymore. It’s a forever boundary- a ‘sacred queer boundary’ if you will.
But my healing teaches me that I made choices that put me in that situation. I’ve owned it. It’s disappointing. Sure, the majority of the blame is on domestic abusers and those who sexually assault others who will roll over, cry, and play the victim if it was ever said to their face.
The majority of the fault is theirs.
But not all of it.
I’m going out of my way to write this to hold you accountable, Carlo.
If you want to talk about accountability, you need to show that you are capable of it yourself. If you’re going to go off and write about something ‘true and real’, keep it honest, or ‘the heart of the piece’ becomes something of a half-truth, not fully true, not fully real.
If you can’t look in the mirror and be honest, I’m not convinced that you’re writing from a place of healing.
It is incredibly harmful, completely unacceptable even, to suggest that survivors are to blame for the harm they experience. That kind of thinking protects abusers and silences people who’ve already been hurt. To accuse me of lacking accountability while implying I’m responsible for someone else’s abusive behavior is not only unfair, it’s beyond the realm of comprehension.
I didn’t write this to assign 100% blame to my ex. I shared a personal boundary I had to set after realizing I could no longer stay in a dynamic that was hurting me. That moment of clarity was my accountability to myself.
You’re also assuming I offered no support or care, which simply isn’t true. But personal essays aren’t full transcripts of a relationship, they’re glimpses. It’s okay to disagree, but it’s not okay to distort my story into something it’s not.
This doesn’t feel like a dialogue. It feels like an accusation dressed as concern, and I won’t continue defending my safety or intentions here.
Wishing you clarity and peace.
Thank you so much for this, truly. I felt a little nervous sharing that line, but your response reminds me why I did. So many of us were taught to suppress, smooth over, perform calm when what we really needed was permission to feel. The chill, poetic mask gets heavy after a while.
I really admire your reflection and the journey you’ve taken. It means a lot to hear that this resonated with you, especially from someone who’s done, and still doing the work and lived through the messiness with tenderness and honesty.
And yes, queer boundaries are sacred. Thank you for seeing that in the piece, and for holding space for it here. 💜
Carlo, no. I’m saying your personal piece, your story, is the distortion because your lack of accountability to your own life choices. I’m talking about your accountability to yourself (and to your readers because you’ve gone and published this work.) (continued dialogue from cloe’s chain)
You are in no way accountable for you ex’s poor behavior, but you always are accountable for your choices.
You decided to date an addict. That was a bad life decision.
You are not being accountable and honest with yourself about the responsibility of your choices in the failed relationship.
It also needs to be said that writing this personal piece in itself is NOT a boundary.
Not accepting your ex’s friend request IS the boundary.
Carlo, it is clear that you are a gifted writer. But throwing around therapy buzzwords and self-help talk doesn’t mean that you’re as healed as you insistently pretend to be.
It means that you’re a writer. And all the writing I’m seeing from you right now is writing form a place of hurt. You’re an unhealed person, who happens to have a way with words.
You are correct. This is an accusation. You are an unhealed person pretending to be a healed person that writing from a place of healing.
You demand accountability from others and fail to show that you are capable of accountability yourself.
You could decide to make our back and forth a dialogue, but instead you decided to end the conversation because you felt threatened. I am not threatening you or your safety. I am pointing to truth, and you simply don’t like it because it doesn’t align with your narrative. Maybe you don’t like it because it will force you to learn and grow.
This is *probably* why my first comment of the chain got deleted. Maybe it was an accident.
But it feels like it has more to do with Carlo’s need for validation, and need to end, or censor the voices of people who don’t share her view.
What I’m saying isn’t inherently hateful or harmful. But if it feels like an attack to you, Carlo, I encourage you to continue going to therapy and doing the work.
There is a way to write ‘ex’s friend request forever stays in purgatory’ from a true place of healing, and this personal piece is not it.
What’s most harmful here is the implication that being abused is somehow the consequence of poor decision-making. People don’t knowingly walk into abusive dynamics and then become to blame when they’re harmed. That’s not just a misreading of my essay — it’s a dangerous narrative. Most people don’t get into relationships knowing their partner is an addict or an abuser. I certainly didn’t. That only became clear after we’d moved in together.
I never claimed to be above accountability. In fact, I explicitly wrote that we all deserve therapy (“Don’t we all, though?”) — myself included — and that I left the relationship when I realized I had failed myself by staying in something that no longer felt safe. That is accountability. Not performance.
Writing about pain doesn’t mean I’m unhealed. It means I’m honest. It means I’m making meaning from my experiences. That doesn’t require your approval, or your permission.
Also, I don’t run this site, I have no power to censor you, and no reason to. My boundary was not accepting a friend request. That’s my right, and it’s part of my healing. I shared that, not to advise anyone, but to name my own line.
And while I won’t defend myself to someone determined to misunderstand me, I will remind you: survivors don’t owe you perfection, or politeness, or a version of healing that makes you more comfortable.
I’m not interested in a back-and-forth where the only acceptable outcome is your comfort with my process.
Thank you for engaging with my work and for complimenting my writing. I appreciate your passionate regard for this specific piece. It’s an honour to be in dialogue, even in disagreement. 🙏🏾
Even when you don’t know you’re entering an abusive dynamic, part of the healing work is figuring out why you are attracted to people who abuse, and unlearn that unconscious attraction. You had bad boundaries and you refuse to acknowledge or name it. Therapy helps with this. It’s very difficult to do without support. This is the accountability that is specifically tailored to you and your trauma. Leaving the relationship was the correct decision, but it’s not accountability. While everyone probably DOES need therapy, this blanket statement shouldn’t be mistaken for personal accountability.
You write about your pain, but don’t acknowledge your own shortcomings in the situation. That’s inherently dishonest and comings from lack of healing, Carlo. It’s not painting an full picture of what happened, just the picture you wish for the public to see. That’s performance.
The boundary was not accepting the friend request from your ex. This decision was enforcing your boundary.
Accepting the friend request would be betraying your own boundary that you set for yourself.
Unfortunately for us both, I understand you well enough.
I am domestic abuse survivor.
And I am a social worker.
I’m not asking for perfection, politeness, or comfort from you. I’m curious as to what exactly I’ve said to make you think that I’m demanding any of these qualities of you right now?
What does it say about you and your expectations of yourself and others that perfection, politeness, and comfort are unconsciously expected?
I don’t expect or ask for comfort from you.
I’m expecting you to walk the walk when you talk the talk.
You demean your ex for their lack of accountability, in a personal article where you demonstrate the lack of your own accountability.
That’s a problem.
I don’t have a problem with your skill as a writer, but I do have a problem with your framing and ‘process’ when your ‘process’ gives you a pass to not hold yourself to standards you expect from others.
That’s a lack of integrity.
It is not undermining your humanity. It’s not undermining your right to ‘tell’ your side of the story’.
You have been projecting onto me the idea that I don’t want to have a back and forth conversation. And yet you’re the one who constantly makes effort to end the discussion. I’ve had to go out of my way to keep the conversation going.
Funny how that works well when you’re correct. But you’re not right here, Carlo.
I hope you heal and learn from this experience.
Maybe take some time and read through the back and forth again.
It should be helpful for you and your healing journey.
Thank you for sharing your perspective. I’m genuinely sorry you experienced domestic abuse, no one deserves that, ever. Not even if they’ve struggled with attraction patterns. Abuse is wrong, full stop.
Abusers are often manipulative; they mimic safe, loving partners until the mask falls off. I refuse to blame survivors or suggest that evaluating their attractions is a prerequisite for healing. Therapy requires a deeply delicate, supportive process, not judgment based on what someone should have seen coming.
This essay reflects me as someone who made mistakes, learned from them, and is now actively refusing access to someone who once caused harm. That’s growth, not performance.
I hear your call for accountability, and I recognize how personal this topic is for you. But I also stand by my boundaries, my healing process, and my right to frame my story on my own terms.
I really hope you are lying about being a social working, because victim blaming rhetoric like yours gets abuse victims fuckinh killed.
Thank you, I like to believe I am counter-culture too.
No, I am not joking.
I have a masters degree in social work.
I am a survivor of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and an attempt of murder at the hands of people I’ve trusted.
My healing has informed me that I tend to be too trusting and am often drawn to qualities of people who mistreat me.
It’s taken a lot of work and therapy to recognize that this happens AT ALL. Especially since this pattern has been happening since early childhood.
I’m not excusing abuse in any way.
Nor am I trying to blame the victim for the abuse.
Everyone is responsible for their own actions at the end of the day. The perpetrator is responsible for the abuse, of course.
And at the same time, Carlo is responsible for Carlo’s actions and behaviors.
I am explicitly pointing out that a healed person would not write a personal piece like this without acknowledging what drew them to their abuser.
This unconscious pattern is the dysfunction that Carla brought to the failed relationship. And the insufficient boundaries. It’s a tragedy. And again, the abuse- action of another- is not her fault. But unlearning the pattern, or being aware of it and when it is kicking in is Carla’s responsibility.
Until Carla can do this, there’s a high probability that abuse will happen again in some other relationship in some way or another.
And I’ll let you in on a secret.
The secret to healing lies in Carla’s agency, in inspecting the relationship and identifying and owning the pieces of dysfunction she brought to the failed relationship. That’s the healing work. Carla can’t control or manipulate other people- that would be abusive.
It Carla can change her behaviors and actions going forward.
Once she actually heals, she won’t have the need to write a person piece like this because she’s held herself accountable. I’ll say it again.
The point of this piece isn’t Carlo’s healing or processing. She has a need to feel validated and better about herself.
Unfortunately, taking to social media and farming for sympathy and validation is not healing. This personal piece was not written by a healed person.
Using social media this way feels wrong to me. Seeking validation isn’t a replacement for healing. It might make you feel better for a little while, but in the long run it’s not going to be enough.
If you are like me, it’s possible that you have a developmental disability or two and cooccurring mental health problems that makes healing and identifying your own dysfunctions and attraction to people who treat you poorly more challenging. Life is really a crap shoot in that way.
I know I’m not a dumb person, but it really feels dumb how sometimes life doesn’t bother to give you lemons, but everyone acts like you should have them and why isn’t it lemonade yet? You know?
Don’t be like me and fail to better recognize these patterns until sexual assault or domestic violence happens because your partner is selfish and doesn’t care about you, or worse until an attempt is made on your life.
The crusading social worker strikes again. I’m pretty sure they wrote a similarly over-the-top response to a question about a bad kisser recently, but under a different name. The tendency to wildly pathologise is too similar. Each to their own I guess, but hell, some opinions are best left unread.
Oh sorry I didn’t realize we were in the precense of some omniscient all powerful person who can never be wrong and whose superior intellect we must all bend to (sarcasm, in case you’re also too thick to tell that).
In all seriousness, your delusions of grandeur, insistent ignorance, and refusal to empathize with anyone else’s perspective is vile and dangerous. I genuinely hope you have no contact with or influence on vulnerable people, you will get then killed.
I can see you’re hurting, but your comments here are all really odd and antagonistic, and seem to fundamentally misunderstand what writers do, what personal essays are and what social media is. This isn’t a restorative justice session or court of law or therapy, and Carlo not writing about certain things doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Not all writing is about everything.
Also the idea that you can only write critically about your ex if they are a proven abuser is wild! Sometimes I write angry poems about my exes just because it’s a Friday.
Anyway, I thought it was great.
What is going on in this comments section y’all😭
this is beautiful and thoughtful piece that stuck with me in the days after reading it. thank you ♥️ i returned to read it again and was shocked to see the comments — this is a piece under the FIRST PERSON tag not a manifesto on what Types of People are always right & wrong and frankly it feels disingenuous to not see that from clearly personal piece. thank you for your writing Carlo, so sorry this is the response for real. looking forward to reading more of your writing in the future