It Didn’t Happen Overnight, But I Did Wake Up One Day and Go “Nah”
I used to be that girl. The one with her life semi-together. Fresh mani. Glowing skin. Ten-step skincare routine followed religiously. I walked for fun, ate salads for pleasure, and genuinely liked myself most of the time. But somewhere between the chaos of grief, stress, betrayal, and burnout, I slowly stopped showing up. Not for anyone else. For me. And once I stopped, I didn’t even notice I was missing.
For years, I abandoned myself in the name of survival. I wanted peace so badly I mistook it for silence. I let people treat me badly because I thought if I didn’t fight back, they’d leave me alone. Spoiler: they didn’t. I stopped doing my hair, stopped putting effort into outfits, stopped caring what my body needed. I started drinking more, eating whatever was easiest, and letting my standards dissolve into a puddle of “meh” on the floor. I wasn’t depressed. I was just… vacant.
Then one day, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognise myself. Not because of my weight or my skin or the third-day hair in a bun. But because I could see it. That I was gone. And something in me cracked. Not a dramatic, movie-scene sob. More like a firm, slightly disgusted, internal, “Okay babe. What are we doing?”
Trauma Isn’t an Excuse, But It Explains a Lot
I’ve been through it. You probably have too. And when life keeps punching you in the face with grief, betrayal, isolation, or just a series of unfortunate events, something starts to give. For me, it was the part of me that believed I deserved good things. That believed I was worth caring for. That voice went real quiet for a while.
I thought I was keeping the peace by not reacting. I told myself it was maturity. Growth. Choosing calm. But really, I was swallowing rage, abandoning boundaries, and calling it wisdom. I let people walk all over me. I let them talk down to me. I let people stay in my life long past their welcome because I was terrified of being seen as “difficult” or “too much.” Sound familiar?
Turns out, constantly trying to keep the peace isn’t peaceful when the price is you. I wasn’t regulated. I was repressed. I was so obsessed with being chill, being kind, being forgiving, that I forgot how to protect myself. And eventually, I didn’t need anyone else to abandon me. I was doing it just fine on my own.
The Power Wasn’t Gone. I Just Hadn’t Used It In a While
The first thing I did when I realised I was abandoning myself? I sat down with a matcha latte and made a list of everything I used to love about my life. Not the big things. The little ones. Like how I always had fresh bedsheets and a vase of flowers on the table. How I used to blast music while doing my makeup, even if it was just for a trip to the post office.
Then I picked one. Just one. I started doing my makeup again. Nothing dramatic. I coloured in my eyebrows, popped on some mascara, and dusted a bit of shimmer across my cheeks. Just enough to remind my reflection that I still existed. And something shifted. My face didn’t transform, but I swear my energy did. I remembered what it felt like to enjoy myself in the mirror. And once I felt that spark, I wanted more.
So I kept choosing me in little ways. I put on perfume. I said no to a dinner I didn’t want to go to. I unfollowed that person who made me feel like I was never doing enough. It was like dusting off a throne I forgot was mine. I didn’t need to reinvent myself. I just had to return to myself.
Not Gonna Lie, It Took a Bit of Delusion
Real talk? I had to fake it a bit at first. I had to pretend I was the kind of person who had her life together, even while eating cereal for dinner in a dressing gown and crying over nothing in particular. I played the part. I acted as if I was powerful. Cared for. Worthy. Even when I didn’t believe it yet.
But that’s the thing about self-respect. You don’t wait until you feel it. You practise it. You choose it. You do it. And eventually, it clicks. The delusion becomes reality. Your nervous system catches up. And suddenly you’re that girl again. Or at least a version of her who’s a little wiser, a little less tolerant of crap, and a lot more hydrated.
People say healing isn’t linear. But I disagree. Healing is circular. You keep returning to yourself, over and over, until it sticks. You try, and fall off, and try again. It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence. And I’m more present in my life now than I’ve ever been. Mostly because I actually like being in it again.
What Self-Love Looks Like For Me Now
I still eat granola for dinner sometimes. I still cry randomly. I still have days where I want to crawl into bed and pretend I’m not falling apart. But I also floss. I go for walks. I drink water. I answer texts that matter. I light incense not for a vibe, but because I deserve nice things, even when I’m alone.
Self-love, for me, looks like boundaries. It looks like saying no without explanation. It looks like getting my brows done even if no one else will notice. It looks like treating myself like someone I love, not someone I tolerate. I stopped abandoning myself because I finally understood that no one was coming to save me. That wasn’t depressing. It was empowering.
And yeah, sometimes I still hear the old voices. The ones that tell me I’m too much, or not enough, or that I should shrink to fit. But now I’ve got new voices too. Ones that say, “We don’t do that anymore.” Ones that say, “She deserves better.” Ones that say, “Babe, remember who you are.”
If you’re reading this and realising you’ve been abandoning yourself too, I promise: it’s not too late to come home. You are allowed to be your own rescue mission. Your own safe place. Your own damn hero. Start small. Start today. Just start.
We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity
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