When your body keeps the score of toxic love

This is the piece I've avoided writing. Not because I don't have the words, but because it feels deeply personal to share. But if it helps even one person recognise the patterns, choose themselves, or understand the profound connection between emotional trauma and physical illness, then it's worth the vulnerability. The relationship we have with ourselves is the most important work we'll ever do.

When I first found a lump in my breast at 39, I was already immersed in the alternative health world, genuinely believing I could outsmart disease through perfect lifestyle habits and epigenetics. The irony of developing the very condition I had lectured about was not lost on me then, and it certainly isn't now.

The decade from 2014 to 2024 was a perfect storm of chronic stress and emotional trauma that my body absorbed like a sponge. In 2014, I moved to the Middle East for a job I was headhunted for, only to encounter a toxic work environment and a romantic relationship that created immense emotional turmoil.

When I left both situations, I transitioned into health coaching, speaking publicly about breast cancer prevention. I genuinely believed knowledge and perfect lifestyle habits could protect me from disease. Then I went back to the corporate world for a new role, where I encountered another challenging and toxic work environment and entered a romantic relationship that would prove even more destructive to my wellbeing.

Looking back, perhaps it's no coincidence that I developed multifocal breast cancer, multiple tumours in different areas, which is quite unusual. My body was responding to nearly a decade of chronic stress from multiple sources. A nervous system that was completely out of alignment and never had a chance to reset.

The body keeps the score

We often talk about the mind–body connection in abstract terms, but living it is another story. For years, I was caught in trauma responses: chronic reactivity, emotional dysregulation, and an exhausting cycle of being triggered into explosive anger like an erupting volcano. At times, my blood felt like it was boiling with all the anger I couldn't contain, and the stress was eating me alive from the inside out.

I kept finding myself in situations where my needs were dismissed and my compassion exploited. That relentless stress, the kind research now shows can disrupt the body’s ability to recognise and eliminate cancer cells, left my nervous system stuck in fight-or-flight and steadily eroded my immune defences.

My last relationship became emotionally abusive, undermining any sense of safety and leaving me with PTSD. My body couldn’t return to balance: sleep was broken, my immune system depleted, and inflammation constant. Living in that state of survival 24/7, I lost my health, my grounding, and in many ways, myself.

Then came another layer: the cancer treatments themselves. The ovarian suppression and aromatase inhibitors meant to prevent recurrence virtually eliminated my estrogen, a hormone that helps regulate the parasympathetic nervous system. With this natural regulator gone, my already traumatised system became even more trapped in fight-or-flight mode, making a safe, nurturing environment not just important but essential for healing.

What I’ve since learned is that the body can become addicted to stress. When the nervous system is constantly flooded with adrenaline and cortisol, it begins to crave those chemicals the way it craves sugar or caffeine. Chaos becomes familiar, even when it’s harmful. In that state, walking away can feel harder than staying, because your body has become conditioned to expect the very turmoil that’s making you ill.

Many doctors now acknowledge what researchers like Gabor Maté have been saying for years: emotional trauma and chronic stress are significant factors in cancer development. I had the BRCA2 mutation, the loaded gun, but those toxic relationships I kept returning to pulled the trigger. Even with genetic predisposition, cancer isn't inevitable; it needs the perfect cocktail of conditions. For me, that cocktail was a decade of chronic emotional stress that altered my body's ability to repair DNA and maintain immune surveillance.

Cancer forced me to see what I'd been ignoring: that you can eat as healthily as humanly possible, but if you don't live in a good place emotionally, it won't matter. The emotional stress will always find its way to the body.

The pattern recognition

The hardest part wasn't recognising that those relationships were toxic. The hardest part was asking myself why I kept choosing people as partners who waved red flags like they were directing traffic.

Nowadays, we are so quick to throw around the narcissist label, but I don't like that approach because it shifts the focus and responsibility away from us. We spend so much time analysing him. Is he a narcissist? Why won't he commit? Why won't he change? Why doesn't he see my worth? But we never ask the real questions:

Why did I choose to enter a relationship with someone who was emotionally unavailable from day one?

Why did I sacrifice my own needs to stay?

Why did I stay in a relationship that was literally making me sick?

It isn't about ignoring red flags. It's about why we choose people who wave them in the first place.

The truth I had to face was brutal: I was looking for love in all the wrong places. I was looking for men to complete me, to give me the validation I couldn't give myself. I kept choosing emotionally unavailable men and convincing myself I could change them, or that I didn't deserve better. I had such low self-esteem that I accepted relationships where my needs went unmet, with partners whose fear and avoidance replaced courage and commitment, instead of risking being alone.

What I've come to understand about love is that while chemistry can spark attraction, it isn't enough on its own. For years, I confused intensity and drama with love, when in reality they were just patterns of survival. Real love is different: it brings clarity, honesty, and safety. It's steady rather than chaotic, respectful rather than emotionally manipulative, and expansive rather than diminishing. Most of all, true love is unconditional; it creates space for growth, acceptance, and wholeness, helping you become more of yourself, not less.

I was looking for someone to fill the void where self-love should have been.

The cancer connection

Even my cancer diagnosis didn't shift the dynamic. If a relationship doesn't change in the face of a life-threatening illness, that's the clearest point of no return. But I stayed, because I hadn't yet learned to choose myself.

This is where cancer became my teacher instead of my enemy. Cancer forced me to face what I'd been running from: I didn't love myself enough to demand better.

Your body is always listening to your emotional state. When you're constantly in survival mode, angry, resentful, hypervigilant, that energy has to go somewhere. For me, it went to my breast tissue. My body was screaming that something needed to change, and I kept turning up the volume on everything except the message it was trying to send me.

The inability to express my authentic needs, the chronic state of being untrue to myself in that relationship, these weren't just emotional problems. They were biological stressors that disrupted my hormonal balance and immune function. I was pouring all my energy into survival mode instead of the cellular repair and immune vigilance my body needed.

The relationship wasn't just emotionally draining, it was physically depleting my immune system, disrupting my sleep, flooding my body with stress hormones, and keeping me in a chronic state of inflammation. I was pouring all my energy into being angry at someone who was never going to change, instead of channelling that energy into healing.

The radical choice

The transformation didn't happen overnight, but it started with one radical decision: I was going to finally walk away from the toxic relationship and choose myself, fiercely and completely.

I learnt that self-care isn't bubble baths and face masks. It's radical boundary setting. It's refusing to stay in situations that deplete you. It's protecting your energy like it's sacred, because it is.

I pulled myself out of that toxic relationship, one I knew deep down was over the moment my diagnosis revealed just how unsupported I really was. Still, as an expat abroad without family nearby, I leaned on what help was available to get through appointments, decisions and surgery. For that practical support, I remain grateful, but I also knew I had to walk away to truly heal, and I did the hardest thing:

I stayed single long enough to actually heal and transform. Not just to 'get over' the relationship, but to examine every pattern that had led me there in the first place.

I did that with the help of an exceptional therapist who helped me reframe my past toxic relationships from an empowering perspective. Instead of seeing myself as a victim of what was done to me, I learnt to see these experiences as powerful teachers to understand my patterns of self-abandonment and low self-esteem and that showed me exactly what I don't want and guided me towards what I truly deserve.

This shift required taking full accountability for my choices and patterns, which was incredibly liberating because it meant I had the power to choose differently moving forward.

I learnt that if you truly love yourself and know who you are, there's no way you would ever enter a relationship with someone who doesn't treat you right. When you have that foundation of self-love, you can spot emotional unavailability from a mile away, and more importantly, you won't stick around trying to fix it.

The loving rebellion

Now? I'm crystal clear about my boundaries, what I want, and what I deserve. I’ve learnt to treat my time, energy, and wellbeing as non-negotiable priorities. But I've also truly forgiven the people from my past, and myself, and I wish them well. This forgiveness isn't about reconciliation or excusing behaviour, it's about freeing myself from carrying the weight of resentment. I can now see these experiences for what they truly were: profound teachers that gave me tremendous wisdom and the strength to transform myself completely.

The truth is, it wasn’t just one relationship that broke me down. It was years of toxic workplaces, unhealthy dynamics, and the chronic stress of living in fight-or-flight. All of it combined to throw my body into misalignment, disrupting my hormones, immune system, and ability to repair itself. That accumulation of stress created the conditions where cancer could take hold.

The choice is always yours

Earlier this year, I celebrated my three-year post-surgery all-clear milestone. In a way, cancer became my greatest teacher, pushing me to confront my self-worth and learn what it means to truly love myself.

Cancer was my body’s way of screaming that something needed to change, not just my lifestyle, but my entire relationship with myself. And here’s the truth nobody wants to hear: if you don’t address the underlying emotional trauma, cancer often comes back, just like toxic relationship patterns.

But you don’t have to wait for your body to start screaming to make different choices. Emotional trauma takes many forms beyond romantic relationships. It might be the unresolved grief from losing a loved one, growing up with a difficult or emotionally unavailable parent, workplace bullying, betrayal by a trusted friend, or chronic financial stress. The source doesn’t matter as much as recognising when unprocessed emotional pain is keeping you in survival mode and quietly affecting your physical health.

Ask yourself:

·       Where in your life are you accepting treatment that doesn’t serve you?

·       What relationships are draining your energy instead of replenishing it?

·       What patterns are you repeating that keep you in survival mode instead of allowing you to thrive?

A partner should always be the beautiful addition to your already fulfilling life, not the foundation holding it up. Anyone who won’t examine themselves, can’t take feedback, or refuses to deal with their own trauma will poison your relationship and potentially your health.

Investing energy differently

For me, cancer and toxic love were not separate stories. They were two sides of the same message: until I chose myself, my body and my life would keep reminding me that something needed to change.

Now, instead of pouring all my energy into toxic situations that will never change, I invest it in healing, self-care, and giving back. Over the past year, this looked like daily meditation, daily exercise, Joe Dispenza retreats, spending time in nature, yoga to get back into my body, nourishing food, journaling, therapy, volunteering for cancer organisations, and working with my employer to create systemic change around cancer support.

That shift doesn’t just protect my health, it gives me purpose, clarity, and joy that no toxic dynamic ever could.

Relationships are the greatest lessons in life, where we experience the most growth and receive the most profound wisdom. The past doesn’t define us; it simply gives us the knowledge and courage we need to choose differently.

The question is: What are you going to choose today?

Related posts: What if cancer isn’t the enemy but the messenger? - Rethinking cancer language: a mini-series, Part 4