Why I Won’t Be “Grateful” for Toxic Breakups Anymore

Do we really need to put a positive spin on mistreatment?

“And every time I scratch my nails down someone else’s back, I hope you feel it. Well, can you feel it?”

Remember that? The “angry girl” music of the 90s, as it was called? (Of course, we had to be sure to use the word “girl” to make sure that we didn’t accidentally validate the full emotional spectrum of grown women.)

When that song first hit the radio, I was healing from a miscarriage and a physically and emotionally abusive relationship. I took solace in Alanis Morissette’s words.

I listened to Tori Amos’ Precious Things on a loop.

I want to smash the faces Of those beautiful boys Those Christian boys So you can make me cum That doesn’t make you Jesus

Of course, these women weren’t the first angry female singers on the scene. They were the products of those who came before, like Billie Holiday, whose life was taken because of her dedication to singing the truth. Their blades were sharpened by these early artists, and they knew just where to strike to make the killing blow.

And then, as the next generation came onto the scene, they brought with them a subtle shift. Their focus changed. They weren’t so much calling out inappropriate and unacceptable behavior, social inequities, or abuse.

No, they were “thanking” their abusers, instead, in a strange ritual of trying to put a positive spin on the situation and “take back their power.”

I recently created a set of photos of myself howling for my latest project. Howling in rage. Howling in ecstasy. The two, in my opinion, must be wed if a woman is to be whole.

In order to help me channel my emotions during this photo shoot, I had my “angry woman” (I refuse to say “angry girl”) playlist blasting.

One of my favorite songs on that playlist is Fighter by Christina Aguilera. I adore its driving beat and how much it helps me connect with my anger in the most sensual way.

However, as I moved my body through these howling poses, my mind became distracted by the lyrics.

After all of the stealing and cheating you probably think that I hold resentment for you But uh uh, oh no, you’re wrong ’Cause if it wasn’t for all that you tried to do, I wouldn’t know Just how capable I am to pull through So I wanna say thank you ’Cause it Makes me that much stronger Makes me work a little bit harder It makes me that much wiser So thanks for making me a fighter Made me learn a little bit faster Made my skin a little bit thicker Makes me that much smarter So thanks for making me a fighter

Everything in my body, so finely tuned in that moment by my anger and ecstasy, flared at these words. No, no, no, no, no.

What happened to “‘And I’m here, to remind you / Of the mess you left when you went away”?

After my long-term partner ended our relationship to pursue his new one, I spent months reading every spiritual self-help book I could find.

They said the same thing over and over. Anger wouldn’t get me anywhere. Accountability was really just “blaming” in disguise. Radical responsibility was the only way to change and grow. If you recognize you are the only problem, then you are completely empowered to change everything.

Even my friends, who weren’t reading the same books, seemed to echo that advice. They reminded me that love is the only thing that matters. If I loved him once, I should forgive him because that’s what love does.

They told me if I aligned with the spiritual power of love, things would be set right. It would be as if this nightmare had never happened. My ex would realize what he had done and act quickly to correct the pain he had caused. Maybe he would realize what he had lost in giving me up and would come back to me.

Really, this was such a gift, they reminded me. Through this pain, through his abandonment, through his betrayal, I would learn how strong I really was. I’d be able to make a better life for myself — one that would probably make him so jealous, he’d be clawing his way back to me.

All I needed was to stay in a place of love and gratitude.

I immersed myself in this practice of radical responsibility, radical forgiveness, and radical gratitude. At 38, and with a master’s degree, somehow, this seemed like the smartest course of action. Forgive him, despite his egregious behavior and total refusal to take responsibility for any of it. And be open to reconciling, even after seven years of him putting our relationship on the back burner — so much so that he’d found someone else to put on his front burner.

It didn’t occur to me at the time what a far cry this breakup response was to the first one I’d had, about twenty years earlier, back when I leaned on Tori Amos and Alanis Morissette to get me through. Back then, my friends had joined me in a battle cry, taking on all the fierce energy of Angela Bassett in Waiting to Exhale. “Get your shit…get your shit…and get out!”

Somehow, “Burn all his clothes in the driveway!” became “This is the best thing that could’ve happened to you!”

It’s been seven years since he left. He never once contacted me in all this time. He married the other woman and they divorced a couple years ago.

Last year, my brother discovered that my ex had emailed him an apology. They had been best friends and when my ex left me, his instructions from both his pastor and his new girlfriend were to cut out my entire family and make a clean break of it.

I always knew his love for my brother was real so it didn’t surprise me that that’s who he chose to reach out to. At the end of the email was an insufficient, one-sentence, secondhand apology of the “Tell your sister…” variety.

Funnily enough, by the time that email came to light, I didn’t care about apologies anymore. I didn’t care about forgiveness or leaning into the kind of love that can “fix everything.”

And I sure as hell had long gotten past the phase in which I hoped he would someday come back to me. Or more to the point, I had finally come to realize that I didn’t want him anymore.

In fact, I wish I had stopped wanting him the first time he cheated on me. And more importantly, I wish there hadn’t been a single person in my life who had enthusiastically encouraged me to forgive his infidelity. Or the other transgressions that had followed.

And I wish when he left there hadn’t been a single person who told me to put a positive spin on it. That I was becoming beautifully battle-hardened from all these relationships that had ended in betrayal and/or abandonment. That it was making me stronger and wiser. That it would help me become the kind of woman I wanted to be.

Even recently, I think I’ve been guilty of pulling these kinds of PR tricks on myself. You’ll find it from time to time in my writing.

But after staring into the lens of my own camera, contorting my body into silent howls while listening to Christina proclaim, “‘Cause if it wasn’t for all of your torture, I wouldn’t know how to be this way now, and never back down,” I realized we need to get back to the purity and truth of female rage.

How strong is a woman?

Of course, there’s no way to actually answer this question. And in fact, cultural biases based in sexism and misogyny will make it even harder to answer.

There are many who would say women are weak.

And yet, we are so strong. Our bodies birth babies. We run families and manage jobs. We work harder for less pay. We perform more than our fair share of housework and parenting. We face discrimination in every setting. And we have to perform the impossible task of trying to walk that perfect balance between all the Feminine dualities our culture created in order to disempower us (a little bit of whore, a little bit of virgin, a little bit of sweet, a little bit of sass…).

So while I can’t quantify or clearly define a woman’s strength, I can say with certainty, as a woman, that the word “strong” isn’t really sufficient in terms of describing our power.

Do we need a male partner’s disrespect and abuse to forge this strength? Fuck no, we don’t. Do we need a man’s lies, gaslighting, and manipulation to enhance our strength? Do we need to be mistreated in relationship after relationship to finally get society’s permission for us to “never back down?”

When you really think about this, isn’t it absolutely crazy? And speaking of gaslighting and manipulation…isn’t that what this is?

Why should women find it empowering to thank their exes who treated them so poorly because that mistreatment made them stronger? Imagine how much stronger we’d be if we hadn’t endured that mistreatment in the first place. How about that? How about instead of throwing toxic positivity-inspired thank yous onto these dumpster fire breakups, we create a culture that respects women, instead, in a way that prevents this kind of mistreatment from happening at all?

Embracing pain as a catalyst of personal growth is a very patriarchal concept — especially if that also happens to come with a free pass for a man’s bad behavior.

What if we stopped playing by the rules of pain? Can you imagine how much the world would change if we stopped asking women to believe they were lucky to have been deceived, manipulated, and disrespected? If we acknowledged the truth, instead, that women already are strong and that our power and independence don’t need to be forged by a lover’s mistreatment?

So forgive me if I opt out of this one. I’m going to pull a Beyoncé and grab the nearest baseball bat, thank you very much. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.)

I know I might have said in the past how grateful I was that my ex left the way he did because it made me who I am. Allow me to rewrite my own history. To make a major edit.

I was angry that he treated me so poorly after seven years together. Yes, angry! Though ultimately, I am glad for what happened because I’m free of that unloving relationship now.

But you see, I always was the woman I was meant to be. And I never needed a man’s mistreatment to get me there.

© Yael Wolfe 2022

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