How many times a day do you abandon yourself without even noticing?
Not in a spectacular way — not by slamming the door on your dreams or making a decision that changes your whole life. I mean those small, almost invisible moments when you leave yourself a little.
You say yes when something deep inside says no. You accept one more request when you are already tired. You change what you wanted to say to avoid displeasing someone, or you lower your price before anyone has even told you it was too high.
There are also all the times you postpone your project because other people’s needs always seem more urgent than yours. You explain at length a decision that may never have needed justifying.
You know what you desire, yet you are still waiting for someone to confirm you have the right to want it. And quietly, without really noticing, you abandon yourself a little.
Self-abandonment doesn’t always look the way we imagine
For a long time, I would probably have associated self-abandonment with something much bigger — completely giving up on yourself, living a life you don’t want, or staying in a situation that suffocates you. Over time, I understood it could be far more subtle.
Self-abandonment can hide in the way we love, in the way we give, in our desire to be a good person — and even in our need to help.
It can slip into our fear of disappointing, our longing to be understood, or our habit of avoiding conflict.
You can be a strong, independent, conscious, generous woman, committed to her evolution, and still keep abandoning yourself in certain places.
I know this because I have been there, and because I am still working on it today. The difference is that I abandon myself far less than before. Above all, I recognize much faster the moments when I start leaving myself.
I believe that is where a real shift happened for me.
When being loved becomes more important than staying true to yourself
Behind many forms of self-abandonment hides a very simple question: if I truly choose myself, will I still be loved?
That question can take many forms. If I say no, will I disappoint someone? If I ask for what I really want, will I be seen as demanding? If I stop being always available, will others think I no longer love them? If I state my price without justifying it, will I be judged?
For many of us, these situations touch something much deeper than an everyday choice. We sometimes learned, consciously or not, to associate love with what we could give.
With our kindness, our availability, our ability to understand, to help, to accommodate and to adapt.
So when the moment comes to choose ourselves, a part of us can experience it as a risk.
The risk of displeasing, of disappointing, of being judged — or even of losing a relationship, a place, a form of security. And sometimes, rather than take that risk, we unconsciously prefer to lose a little of ourselves.
When someone chooses herself — and it shakes us
Recently, life placed me in front of a mirror I didn’t expect.
I came to live with my mother, among other reasons to be present for her and take care of her. Then she made a choice that was hers to make. She chose to love herself, to open her heart to a love story and to welcome something that did her good. She chose to be happy.
And I will be transparent: at first, a part of me felt abandoned.
That feeling surprised me, because I wondered why I was experiencing the situation this way. Why did her choosing something good for herself awaken in me this sense of being left behind? I had to stop and look at what was really happening inside me.
With a little distance, I understood that my mother wasn’t necessarily abandoning me. She was choosing her life. She dared to live and welcome what she desired, without telling herself that at a certain age, with certain responsibilities or in certain circumstances, she no longer had the right to want something else.
The more I looked at the situation differently, the more what had first hurt me became a mirror.
The question was no longer only: why do I feel abandoned? The real question became: am I truly living what I desire?
Not what I should want, not only what is reasonable or fits the responsibilities I have taken on — but what I truly desire.
That experience brought me straight back to myself.
Choosing yourself doesn’t mean choosing against others
This is probably one of the most important things this situation reminded me of.
Choosing yourself doesn’t mean rejecting others. Saying no doesn’t mean lacking love. Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean others no longer matter, and setting a boundary doesn’t mean becoming selfish.
We can love someone deeply without abandoning ourselves for them. We can support others without carrying their lives. We can be generous without exhausting ourselves, and present without being constantly available.
We can also care for someone without making that responsibility our entire identity.
Life sometimes brings us responsibilities. Some are chosen; others are imposed on us.
We want to be there for those we love, and that can be deeply beautiful. But there is a difference between being present and disappearing, between loving and forgetting yourself, between supporting and abandoning yourself.
Choosing yourself despite your responsibilities doesn’t mean fleeing them. It means learning to no longer lose yourself inside them.
That realization gave me a lot to reflect on.
My mother had the right to choose what was good for her — and so did I. My responsibilities didn’t disappear, and neither did my love for her. But that doesn’t mean I must stop living my own life.
What if the abandonment sometimes came from the role we took on?
There is something subtler I began to observe.
Sometimes we become so used to being the one who helps, the one who supports, the one who organizes, the one others can count on, that we end up defining ourselves through that role.
We become necessary — and in a way, that can even reassure us. We know who we are when someone needs us.
But what happens when that person starts choosing herself differently? When she no longer needs us in the same way, or makes a choice that no longer places us at the centre of her daily life?
It can awaken a void. Not necessarily because we want to control the other, but because her choice suddenly forces us to look at ourselves.
Who am I when I am not only the one who takes care?
What do I want?
What does me good?
What have I put off until later?
What have I stopped desiring because I thought it was no longer the time?
And that may be where the return to yourself truly begins.
I no longer try to never abandon myself
For a long time, I might have believed the goal was to one day reach a state where I would never abandon myself again. I no longer think that way.
I am still human. I still sometimes say yes too quickly, want to do a little too much, question myself, or feel the old reflex to accommodate. I can still feel the urge to over-explain a decision simply so it will be better received.
The difference is that I see it sooner. I feel more quickly when I start leaving myself, and I come back to myself earlier.
I believe that is where a large part of alignment lies.
Alignment may not be never abandoning yourself again — but becoming unable to stay away from yourself for long.
That idea carries much more meaning for me today.
Coming back to yourself doesn’t mean changing everything overnight. It can simply mean recognizing that something no longer suits you. Admitting you need rest. Speaking a truth you were holding back. Keeping a price without immediately lowering it, or making room again for a dream you had set aside.
Recognizing the small abandonments
Perhaps self-abandonment isn’t hiding in one huge decision today. Perhaps it’s simply hiding in a conversation, in a price you hesitate to announce, in an invitation you don’t really want to accept, in an idea you hold back or a boundary you don’t dare express.
It can also hide in that little sentence we say so often: “It’s no big deal.” When deep down, something in us knows very well that it matters.
These small moments often end up shaping a whole way of living. So instead of waiting until we are completely exhausted or completely lost, perhaps we can learn to recognize earlier the places where we begin to leave ourselves.
Asking yourself the right questions
Today, I simply invite you to observe yourself for one day. Not to judge yourself or correct each of your reactions, but simply to become more aware of your own inner movements.
You may be surprised by what comes up. Choosing yourself doesn’t always begin with a great revelation — sometimes it begins simply by recognizing a need you had set aside.
It can begin with a no, a pause, a price you don’t reduce, an opinion you don’t take back, an hour you keep for yourself, or a desire you finally start taking seriously again.
It can also be the decision to keep loving others without leaving yourself.
And perhaps, deep down, learning to receive, to slow down, to create a more abundant life and to be fully yourself begins exactly there: in this ability to come back to yourself, again and again, without closing your heart and without believing that love requires your disappearance.
Because loving others should never ask us to stop loving ourselves.
And sometimes, choosing yourself simply means deciding to stay present in your own life.