Dear Ex, Thank You for Screwing Up—You Made Me a Legend

Dear Ex,

Thank You for Screwing Up—You Made Me a Legend

You always said I was “too much.”

Too emotional.

Too loud.

Too ambitious.

Too complicated.

Too opinionated.

Too… me.

So first off—thank you. Because being “too much” for you turned out to be just enough for greatness. And spoiler alert: I love complicated now. Complicated people build empires. Simple ones just scroll through Instagram and text their exes at 2 a.m. (You up? No, I’m legendary, actually.)

Let’s rewind, shall we?

The Red Flags I Mistook for Fireworks

Remember that time you gaslit me into thinking I was the problem for asking if you could maybe not flirt with my best friend at our anniversary dinner?

Or when I cried because I was exhausted and burnt out from working 12-hour shifts and cleaning up your emotional messes—and you told me to “smile more”? Iconic. Really. I should’ve framed that quote and sold it as anti-motivation wall art.

You made me question my self-worth, my sanity, my ability to ever love again.

But then I remembered something important:

I existed before you. And I was already a masterpiece.

You Were My Rock Bottom. Thanks for the View from Up Here.

You breaking me? Best. Thing. Ever.

Because once I hit rock bottom, I found something you never could give me:

Me.

Fully unfiltered, gloriously imperfect, and unapologetically loud-as-hell me.

I started going to therapy.

I got a better job.

I changed my number (don’t bother trying it, by the way).

I even started laughing again—like the real, ugly-laugh kind.

The kind that scares the dog and makes strangers wonder if you’re okay. (I am. Thriving, actually.)

And speaking of thriving…

I Owe My Glow-Up to Your Breakdown

Do you even know how hot rage-fueled healing can be?

I went from “crying on the bathroom floor while googling ‘how to make him love me’” to “sipping champagne in satin pajamas while blocking your number.” It's called character development, babe. Look it up.

You know what else I learned?

I don’t need someone to complete me. I need someone who doesn’t drain my phone battery and my soul.

I don’t have to shrink to make others comfortable.

I will never, ever, settle for half-assed love again. Especially not from someone whose idea of romance was splitting the bill on Valentine’s Day—at Applebee’s.

The Final Mic Drop

So here’s to you, my emotionally unavailable, commitment-phobic ex.

You taught me how not to be loved.

You taught me what healing really looks like.

You showed me the power of walking away—barefoot, mascara running, with a suitcase full of dignity.

Now I dance to Beyoncé in the kitchen like it’s my birthright.

I write love letters to myself.

I dream bigger. Laugh harder. Live louder.

And guess what? I’m too much for everyone now—and proud of it.

If I ever see you again, I’ll thank you.

Not with words. But with the look of someone who escaped the storm, built a castle, and never looked back.

So go ahead. Tell people I was “crazy.”

I’ll be over here—signing books, launching businesses, and loving someone who actually gets it (spoiler: it’s me).

Thanks for screwing up.

You made me a legend.

Sincerely,

Your Favorite “Mistake”

💋