When You’re the Problem (But Also the Sweetheart)
When my ex-boyfriend-turned-bestie and I broke up, the group chat came alive with the classics. “He had red flags, babe!” “You deserve better!” And look, I love a loyal hype crew as much as the next overthinker, but I had to be honest. “Yeah,” I said, sipping my Savvy B that had been seasoned with my own tears, “I know. That’s why we broke up. But, I’m the red flag.” Cue the animated ellipses for several minutes as they kept trying to figure out what to say next.
See, we’re so used to painting our exes as the problem, the villain, the annoying army of ants that ruined our picnic. But sometimes, just sometimes, you are also an ant. And in this case, we were mutually attacking each others picnic. Yes, this is a weird analogy but we’re going with it. He had his faults, his trauma, sure, but I came in hot with a full suitcase of emotional baggage and a carry-on of control issues.
There was no cheating, no screaming matches, no big betrayal. Just two loving people holding up emotional magnifying glasses to each other, realising we both had things to work on. It wasn’t toxic. It was just two soft-hearted weirdos trying to hold each other’s trauma like it was a houseplant that Lulu* had half-eaten.
And it wasn’t that we didn’t love each other – it’s that we were loving each other while leaking chaos from every emotional seam. Sometimes the healthiest thing you can do for someone you adore is to step back and say, “I’ve got healing to do, and I don’t want to hurt you while I’m figuring it out.” That takes guts. And possibly three therapy sessions a week day.
*timeline: I didn’t actually adopt Lulu until a week after our breakup. He’s my emotional support chaos demon.
Romanticising Red Flags Is So Last Season
Here’s the truth: I can be intense. I fall hard, care deeply, and have a tiny (read: large) tendency to spiral when I feel unappreciated. I overthink, and rehearse conversations that haven’t happened. Also, I tend to poke at emotional wounds like they’re bubble wrap. And I used to think this meant I was just “passionate” or “deeply feeling.” Spoiler: it means I have some emotional regulation to work on.
It’s easy to romanticise our own chaos. We make it quirky, or frame it as mysterious. We tell ourselves the right person will understand it. But what if the right person is also quietly drowning in their own existential whirlpool, and now you’re both just swimming in circles, wearing Hello Kitty floaties, and avoiding the work?
That was us. No arguments, just quiet avoidance. He ghosted himself emotionally. I tried to carry it all. He was burnt out and numb. I was overstimulated and craving connection. On paper, we looked dreamy. In reality, we were playing emotional hide and seek with no finish line.
Healing Isn’t a Glow-Up, It’s a Detour
After the breakup, I didn’t start lifting weights or baking sourdough. I didn’t emerge from the ashes with a revenge body and a full roster of Hinge dates. Instead, I started therapy. I cried, drank tea, emotionally supported the South Australian wine industry, and occasionally remembered to eat a jaffle.
I said no to things I would’ve said yes to just to avoid being alone.
One night, I even stopped myself asking ChatGPT “how to help my ex-boyfriend-turned-bestie heal his trauma” while stress-eating Cheezels, because lbr – he can use ChatGPT himself.
I know we love a good makeover montage, but healing isn’t always a visible transformation. Sometimes it’s silent, and sometimes it’s saying “I need space” instead of “Let me fix you.” Sometimes it’s not texting your ex just because you feel lonely. And sometimes it’s realising that you weren’t the villain or the victim. You were just someone learning.
You Can Still Be Lovely and Messy
Here’s what nobody tells you: you can be a good person and still mess up. You can be kind and still be reactive. You can be self-aware and still have a long way to go. Being the red flag doesn’t mean you’re toxic. It means you’re human. A bit frayed around the edges, but willing to stitch yourself back together.
The thing is, I love deeply. And that love can sometimes come out sideways. Through anxiety, through jealousy, through over-checking in. Through trying to pre-empt every emotional outcome so I don’t get blindsided. That’s not love, that’s fear in fancy dress and 4-inch heels. But the fact that I can name it now? That’s growth.
I no longer see my red flags as permanent features. They’re more like little Post-it notes stuck all over the picture book of my life, helpfully shouting, “Oi! There’s unprocessed trauma here, babes!” They’re not the villain, they’re the narrator with a highlighter. Sure, sometimes they obscure the page a bit, but they’re just asking for a little attention, not permanent residence.
Once I take the time to gently peel them back and look underneath, I usually find a scared version of myself doing her best. And when I meet her with compassion instead of shame, the page softens. The story gets clearer. And I can move on to the next chapter, pen in hand, chaos tamed (for now).
When You Take Accountability, You Take Power
Blaming your ex is easy. Sitting in a wine-soaked pity puddle with your friends and listing all their faults? Therapeutic. But here’s the twist: sometimes your ex isn’t the villain. Sometimes they’re just another beautifully flawed human, doing their best, just like you. And defending them doesn’t mean you want them back – it just means you recognise that love, even when it ends, deserves respect.
But taking a long, honest look in the mirror and owning your part in the collapse? That’s real power. That’s the kind of accountability that builds emotional muscle.
When I owned up to being the red flag, I took the power back. I wasn’t waiting for an apology, or trying to control the narrative. I was saying, “Yes, I made mistakes, and I want to learn from them.” That kind of energy doesn’t just change how you date. It changes how you live.
The best relationships aren’t the ones where nobody ever gets it wrong. They’re the ones where both people can say, “I see where I messed up. I’m sorry. I’m trying.” But you have to be able to do that with yourself first. And for me, that started with admitting that I wasn’t just the heartbroken one. I was also the heartbreaker.
Emotional Maturity Isn’t Always Pretty
I wish I could tell you that I now have it all figured out. That I never text anyone when I’m sad, or that I don’t still get a little twitchy when I feel someone pulling away. But emotional maturity doesn’t mean perfection. It means awareness. It means saying, “Oh look, I’m doing the thing again,” and choosing differently.
And, it means letting someone take a breath instead of demanding answers, and soothing your own nervous system before projecting it onto someone else. It means recognising that sometimes, love needs space. And silence. And grace.
Being emotionally mature isn’t sexy. It’s not an Instagram quote or a cute meme. But it is gritty. It’s awkward. It’s being uncomfortable and showing up anyway. But I’ll take that over living on autopilot ever again.
Turns out the biggest walking red flag in my relationship was… me, in heels, holding a matcha latte and unresolved trauma.
Chaos Doesn’t Make You Unlovable
This is the big one. The lesson I had to learn and relearn. Just because you have healing to do, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love. Just because you’ve made mistakes, doesn’t mean you’re unworthy. And just because you were the red flag once, doesn’t mean you always will be.
We all carry something. Some of us just carry it louder. But chaos doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means you’re alive. And if you’re willing to sit with your mess, untangle the knots, and start choosing differently? That’s more powerful than any “perfect” relationship.
Love isn’t just for the healed. It’s for the healing. It’s for the people who keep showing up, who keep trying, who keep saying, “This is where I’m at, and I’m doing the best I can.”
So yes, maybe I was the red flag. But I was also the one who chose to wave it, examine it, and turn it into a banner of growth. And that, my friends, is a love story too.
We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity
If this post helped, inspired, or made you smile, you can support my work with a tea or tip over on Ko-fi. Every bit helps keep the chaos flowing.
Check Out My Other Forms
Discover more from Life & Style with Bry Jaimea
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
