“You Don’t Get to Rewrite My Story: I Choose Who I Am”

Some people will tell on themselves.

They’ll admit in direct and subtle ways… that they chose to be toxic.

That they knew they were hurting others. That they saw the damage they caused and kept going anyway.

That they never intended to be good. Never wanted to be accountable. That they didn’t care who they destroyed as long as they didn’t have to look in the mirror.

Which is exactly what happened to me, multiple times.

After the first discard in September 2019, I was told:

“You are stupid for loving me.”

In a drunken text in June 2020, they admitted:

“I know I’m not a good and righteous man. I ruined my marriage. I ruined my kids. I’m afraid there’s no hope for me.”

Even as late as January this year…just before the final discard and the full reveal of their narcissistic identity, they looked me in the eye and said:

“I chose to be toxic when I was 18… and I stayed that way for 20 years.”

Also telling me:

“You didn’t deserve what I did to you”, while promising yet again to do better. (Which is a classic hoover attempt… especially considering the carnage that came next.)

And even after all those confessions…

They still tried to twist the story.

To paint me as the unstable one.

To weaponize my love and call it weakness.

To take my identity and smear it with their shadows.

That’s what broke something in me.

Because I didn’t choose that.

I didn’t choose cycles of harm.

I didn’t choose manipulation.

I didn’t choose to become the villain in someone else’s deflection.

I KNOW who I am… because I CHOSE it too!

I chose love.

I chose tenderness, when it wasn’t returned.

I chose grace, even when I was gaslit.

I chose hope, when everyone else said walk away.

I chose to believe in redemption…because that’s who I am.

And I won’t be shamed for that.

You want to tell on yourself? Fine.

But you don’t get to tell my story for me.

I am not the problem you refused to face in yourself.

I am not your scapegoat, your excuse, your justification, or your rewrite.

You chose toxic.

I chose light.

And you don’t get to rewrite my story.

You don’t get to erase the truth I lived.

You don’t get to redefine my name.

You don’t get to twist my compassion into pathology just because you never understood it.

Let me be absolutely clear:

I choose who I am.

And I chose strength.

I chose healing.

I chose boundaries that you couldn’t manipulate.

I chose to break the cycle you were still clinging to.

I chose to protect the little girl inside me that you tried to silence.

And she is the one who drew this line.

So if you’re reading this and someone tried to project their pain onto you—

If someone looked at your love and called it broken—

If someone tried to tear down everything you built within yourself to survive—

Let this be your reminder:

You are not who they say you are.

You are who you chose to become.

And they don’t get to write your ending.

Your story is sacred.

Your name is yours.

Your identity is not up for debate.

They don’t get to rewrite you. Ever.

They choose their story… you write yours!