Can we normalize celebrating the good?

Too often, we focus on the negatives when looking back on past relationships—the frustrations, the incompatibilities, the moments of conflict. It’s easy to slip into a narrative where an ex becomes a collection of grievances rather than a complex, multifaceted person who, at one point, played a meaningful role in our lives.

I’ve had relationships that tested my patience. One of my exes openly admitted to having racist views early on, and despite my hope that he’d grow beyond them, he chose not to change. Another couldn’t sleep without the TV on, despite knowing it was harming his sleep quality. I could list plenty of things that frustrated me in past relationships, and my exes could likely do the same about me.

But where does dwelling on those frustrations get me? I made the choice to leave those relationships behind. I have no interest in fixing those men or rekindling anything with them—not even their “new and improved” versions. So why focus on their flaws?

I believe toxic monogamous culture plays a role in this. We often feel the need to highlight how awful our exes were to reinforce that our current partner is “the one,” our favorite, the perfect choice. We rewrite history to make it seem as though past relationships were just mistakes, as if love itself wasn’t present at all. But does it really have to be that way?

Someone important to me once said, “You will be grateful for them. I can’t tell you when or why, but you’ll see.” And she was right. I didn’t actively seek gratitude, but over time, I found it. I am grateful for each of my exes—for the lessons they taught me, but also for the love they gave, the tenderness we shared, the kindness they showed me and my son. The sweet messages, the favorite meals they cooked, the vacations, the spontaneous acts of care… The list is infinite. Even the most difficult relationship had moments worth remembering. He may have harbored beliefs I could never accept, but he wasn’t entirely defined by them. He raised compassionate children, served others selflessly, and offered me some of the most tender moments of my life.

Neuroplasticity tells us that the brain is like a muscle—it can be trained. The same way runners condition their shins to withstand impact, we can condition our minds to shift from resentment to gratitude. And that kind of rewiring is powerful. Holding onto frustration serves no purpose when I’ve already let go of the relationship. Gratitude, on the other hand, gives me peace. It allows me to honor the good without needing to relive the bad.

This, I think, is the highest form of learning—not just recognizing growth, but embodying it. And it feels so much better than sitting in the anger I once carried.