I Loved Him More Than Myself — And That Was the Problem

The Kind Of Love That Swallows You Whole

I thought the only thing to do was love him with all of my being. The movies, the books, the ballads — they all informed me this is how it had to be. So I gave him all of it. Every moment, every thought, every breath.

Initially, it was like getting into the hottest, most beautiful dream. He was my everything, my anchor, the reason for my pounding heart in the morning and the calm that soothed me in the evening.

But somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

When Love Turns Into Self-Erasure

It insidiously crept up on me, so slowly I didn’t even notice.

I started modeling after him — his interests my interests, his dreams my dreams. I canceled appointments to be around for him, stopped doing what I wanted because I didn’t want anything coming between me and being his woman. And each time that he was smiling, I was reassured. That must mean that I was doing love right, did it not?

And then the little things would sting.

When he’d make decisions without me. When I’d compromise and he wouldn’t even care. When I’d give and give until I felt spent, and yet still worried it wasn’t enough.

That’s when I realized: I was giving from an empty cup.

The Red Flags I Ignored (Because I Thought Love Meant Sacrifice)

I convinced myself that love was everything about him, first. That if I simply loved him enough, then all would be right with the world.

So, I suppressed the signs:

My own desires came second. If he had a bad day, I was there to be supportive. If I had one, I didn’t want to “bother” him.
I adapted to him. My taste in music, my wardrobe, my way of life — slowly changed to suit his taste.
I got nervous when he withdrew. If he was aloof, I panicked. Had I done something amiss? Did I need to work harder?
I lost my voice. Choices that were once second nature — what to eat, what to watch, where to go — became a waiting game for his opinion.

I told myself this was simply how love was. That to love someone was to be selfless. That maybe someday, he’d love me in return.

But I was wrong.

Self-Love Is Not Selfish — It’s Necessary

The day I realized I’d lost myself, it was not dramatic. There wasn’t a tearful fight, no final straw. Just a moment of realization.

I sat alone in a café, staring at my unruffled cup, scrolling through my messages, waiting for him to reply. And I was. hollow.

Not because he hadn’t replied. But because I didn’t know who I was without him.

And that’s when it struck me: Love shouldn’t ever come at the expense of leaving yourself behind.

I had mixed up devotion with destruction. I had thought love was about giving everything, but real love doesn’t require you to disappear.

So, I started small.

I took back my hobbies. Books I used to love, music I had forgotten — I brought them back into my life.
I set boundaries. Saying no felt foreign at first, but it became the strongest word in my vocabulary.
I spent time alone. Not sitting around, wondering — just enjoying my own company.
I remembered that I was alive. Not as his woman, but as me.

The Love That Never Leaves You

It wasn’t easy to leave. Loving myself after neglecting myself for so long felt strange, like a new language. But gradually, I started remembering the person I was before he entered my life.

And she was lovable, too.

The truth is, the most important relationship you’ll ever have is the one with yourself. Because when love is real, it won’t make you shrink — you’ll expand.

And the next time, I’ll love differently. Not by losing myself but by standing at someone’s side as myself.

Because the right person won’t ask you to be less. The right person will love you for everything that you already are.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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