The Truth About Losing Yourself in Love (And How to Come Back)

There are many ways we start to lose ourselves.

Sometimes it’s subtle. We get caught up in the busyness of doing everything for everyone else. We silence our opinions to keep the peace. We perform, serve, and give, but slowly, almost unconsciously, we begin to disappear.

Sometimes it’s more destructive. We stay quiet because speaking up feels dangerous. We convince ourselves that love requires sacrifice, and slowly, that sacrifice turns into erasure.

And sometimes, it’s a combination of all of the above.

I know what it feels like to disappear in a relationship

It didn’t happen all at once. It happened slowly, over 22 years.

In my first marriage, I became a version of myself that no longer had a voice. Every time I tried to express how I felt, it was turned against me. My words were twisted. My emotions were dismissed.

Over time, I stopped speaking, not because I had nothing to say but because I no longer believed my voice was safe or welcome.

I kept the peace. I protected the image. I protected him.

I kept smiling for the world. I convinced everyone, including myself, that things were fine.

But behind the scenes, I was disappearing.

I wasn’t just quiet; I was numb.

I shut down emotionally. I lost the ability to communicate confidently. And with each passing year, I slipped further and further away from who I used to be.

The moment everything changed

There wasn’t one clear warning sign that told me I was losing myself. It was a gradual, quiet erosion.

But the turning point came when my ex-husband told our son he was no longer welcome in our home.

The words, the threats, and the emotional violence in that moment opened my eyes.

I realised that not only was my son no longer safe, but once he moved out, I might not be either.

That moment forced me to confront what I had been denying for years. I had spent two decades shrinking, silencing, and sacrificing so much of myself that I barely recognised the woman I had become.

Even then, it was only after I physically moved out that I began to understand the full extent of what had happened.

A friend, one of the few who dared to tell me the truth, started pointing out the patterns I had normalised. Slowly, I allowed myself to see them too.

I had not only lost my voice. I had lost my identity.

And what shocked me most was how angry, hurt, and disappointed I was with myself for allowing it to go on for so long.

What I’ve learned about love and connection

In that season, I learned some things I will never forget:

• You cannot change another person, no matter how much you love them.
• You cannot perform your way into peace.
• And if someone is not willing to grow, reflect, or take responsibility, you will lose yourself trying to carry what isn’t yours to fix.
• Connection cannot thrive in the absence of safety.
• And real love, mutual, honest, anchored love, will never require you to disappear.

What’s different now

Today, in my second marriage, things are different.

That doesn’t mean there hasn’t been disconnection or disappointment.

There have been seasons of emotional distance and unmet expectations. I’ve felt the pain of that as well.

But this time, I haven’t disappeared.

This time, I speak up. I don’t hide or silence myself. I don’t protect others at my expense.

The difference is that my husband listens and is willing to do the work alongside me. We’re healing together, not repeating old cycles.

The difference isn’t that it’s perfect. The difference is that I’m still showing up as me.

How I came back to myself

Coming back didn’t happen overnight.

It wasn’t a single moment; it was a process. A rebuilding. A return.

Here’s what that looked like for me:

• I permitted myself to feel again.
• I started writing, praying, and reflecting; honestly.
• I sat with the truth, even when it hurt.
• I reconnected with parts of myself I had long buried: my voice, dreams and joy.
• I stopped silencing my needs.
• And I started speaking up, not with blame, but with clarity.

I learned that healing wasn’t about becoming who I used to be.

It was about becoming who I was always meant to be but never had the safety to express.

That’s how you come back.

One honest moment at a time.

One brave boundary at a time.

One deep breath at a time.

If you’re quietly disappearing

If you feel like you’ve lost your voice, spark, or sense of self…

If you’ve been surviving instead of living, constantly giving, fading...

If you’ve been holding everything together for so long, but feel like you’re falling apart inside...

Please hear me:

You are not broken. You are not the problem. And you are not too far gone.

You don’t have to keep disappearing to be loved.

And you don’t have to stay disconnected from yourself to hold someone else close.

The most important relationship you will ever have is the one you have with you.

And when that relationship begins to heal, it changes everything.

How you speak up, how you love, how you live.

The relationship you have with yourself sets the tone for every other one.

So if you’re ready to come back to yourself, even just a little, that is more than enough.

Because you are still here.

And that’s your starting point.

Final thought

There are many reasons we lose ourselves: abuse, exhaustion, disappointment, performance, or simply giving too much for too long.

But no matter the reason, one truth remains:

No relationship can thrive if you’re disappearing in it. And no connection can sustain itself if the cost is your identity.

You can come back.

You deserve to come back.

Not because you need to prove anything, but because you matter.

Because you are worth coming back for.

Cheering for you always. Talk again soon

Belinda Basson

P.S. If this resonated with you, I invite you to sign up for my newsletter for more stories, tips, and inspiration. Don’t let the world define you; let’s ReDefine together.