When We Abandon Ourselves (and Don’t Even Know It

There are quiet ways we lose ourselves.

Not all at once. Not dramatically. Just a slow, subtle drift.

We say yes when something in our body says no.

We smile and nod when our heart wants to speak. We keep peace by silencing ourselves — again.

And after a while, we forget what we wanted in the first place.

This is self-abandonment.

It doesn't always look loud or obvious. Sometimes it looks like competence, like being the “easy one,” the dependable one, the one who never makes a fuss.

It looks like over giving or overachieving.

It feels like ignoring the knot in your stomach that tells you something is off — because you don’t want to rock the boat.

Because you were taught that your role is to keep everyone else comfortable. Because maybe, deep down, you believed that being loved meant being less of yourself.

But here’s the truth — self-abandonment is not sustainable.

Eventually, something inside you will whisper: “What about me?”

Then maybe it will get louder: “I can’t keep doing this.”

And finally, your body will speak — through tiredness, irritation, burnout, anxiety, disconnection, illness — asking you to come back.

To listen. To stay.

And coming back to yourself? That’s not selfish. That’s sacred.

It doesn’t happen overnight. It's a practice of remembering, of listening more closely to your needs, your no’s, your longings, of choosing to matter to you.

Self-abandonment is learned.

But so is self-honouring.

And it’s never too late to come home.

If this speaks to you — if you’ve been the one holding everyone else together, forgetting what it feels like to be held yourself — I want you to know you’re not alone.

You’re not too much. You're not behind. And you’re not broken.

You're just remembering how to belong to yourself again.

And that’s a beautiful place to begin.