When Enough is Enough

There comes a moment in life when you realize you can’t take it anymore—when the weight of pain, confusion, and broken promises becomes too heavy to carry. That moment is when enough is enough.

For five years, I was in a relationship that slowly drained me. What began with yelling turned into pushing, pushing turned into shoving, and shoving turned into control—taking away my possessions, my keys, my phone, my ability to walk away. The day it all ended, it all came crashing together. I was left in a tub, wiping away the blood from the bruises he created. When I looked in the mirror, I saw more than just physical wounds. I saw a woman who had been here before—not in the exact same situation, but in moments where I allowed my body, spirit, and mind to be demolished. And in that moment, I knew I had to walk away. Not just for my survival, but for my wholeness.

Looking back, I often ask myself: What was my association to love growing up? Was pain a way someone showed love, even unintentionally? Many of us were raised in homes where “love” and “hurt” lived side by side—where yelling was called discipline, where silence was a form of control, or where withholding affection taught us that we had to earn it. Those early lessons plant seeds. They whisper to us that love is conditional, that affection must be paid for with suffering, that loyalty means staying even when it breaks you. And if we don’t unlearn those messages, we can grow into adults who accept harm as normal, even as love.

But real love does not demand you lose yourself. Love should not hurt. Love should nurture, protect, and build you up. It should feel like a place where you can exhale, not hold your breath. Walking away from a toxic relationship is hard because it means walking away from the familiar—even when the familiar is pain. But it is also the first step toward rewriting your own definition of love.

Enough is enough when you decide it is. No one else can make that decision for you. And when you finally choose yourself, you reclaim everything that was taken from you—your voice, your worth, your spirit, your future.

Reflection Questions:

1. What was your association to love growing up?

2. Was pain ever presented as a way someone “showed” love in your family? If so, how has that shaped your adult relationships?

3. How do your early experiences with love influence what you tolerate today?

4. What would it look like to define love for yourself—without pain, without conditions?

5. When did you realize enough was enough, and how did that change you?