Transitioning Back To Myself After Losing My Spirit In An Unhealthy Relationship
Relationships require compromise, but what happens when you realise you are the only one doing this?
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The lessons we learn from previous relationships aren’t always immediate. It’s taken me a long time to untangle this one and see it clearly for what it was.
“Well, I love you, and I think we would have a very happy life together.”
That’s what my ex said when I told him I was moving out. Look closely. He didn’t seek reassurance that I still loved him, nor did he query how he could make me happy. In fact, he didn’t ask why I wanted to break up.
His reaction to my words was indicative of how it felt being in a relationship with him.
There was no curiosity as to how we had got here and why I was feeling like this, nor was there a willingness to offer up any changes to persuade me to stay.
I’m not sure if his not asking if there was someone else speaks more to my loyalty than to his opinion of himself.
In those hazy days that exist in the immediate aftermath of a relationship breakup, where one person is sleeping in the spare room, and you feel like sudden strangers, my now ex-boyfriend said to me,
You’ll never meet anyone as good as me!
Stupidly, I agreed with him; guilt will do that to a person. I felt guilty for having the audacity to finally put my needs before his.
I still reflect on these words, enlightened by my freedom from his clutches and horrified that anyone would say such a thing.
The truth is, he wasn’t heartbroken by the end of our relationship. He was merely inconvenienced.
In the years that preceded this breakup, I raised several relationship issues, and he just swatted them away, minimised my feelings, and remained closed off to growing together as a couple. And still, I stayed. Because as the scapegoat child of a narcissistic father, this treatment was my normal.
I was used to my needs not mattering. There was a peculiar safety and familiarity in his inability to see and value me.
I now realise he didn’t have the emotional intelligence or social skills to recognise me as a separate entity from him. He was the star of the show and I was his supporting act.
Growing up as an only child, he was placed on a pedestal by an overbearing and disillusioned mother who thought she’d given birth to Christ himself. From a young age, he was taught that his thoughts and feelings took precedence. He was invincible to any accountability for relationship or interpersonal problems.
It wasn’t that he was arrogant. He was beyond arrogant. I actually envy this level of confidence. Years of research and reading and untangling myself through therapy have me questioning whether his behaviour was indicative of someone with a narcissistic personality disorder, just like my father. Or was he just selfish and emotionally dumb?
His reaction to our break-up is indicative of our relationship.
It took me a year to find the courage to leave this one-sided and unhealthy relationship. And then I spent a decade finding my way back to me.
I always thought of myself as a strong person—someone who didn’t suffer fools easily. But my spirit became increasingly translucent during the wasted years in this relationship. By the time of my escape, my identity had almost faded entirely.
How did I allow myself to become an ornament in someone else's life?
My soul screamed at me to get out; I didn’t listen. Eventually, my body went on strike, and for a short time in this relationship, I was mute. Yes, that’s right. I couldn’t speak.
I fell deeper inside myself like a feather in the wind, making its way to the ground. I felt my words trapped in my soul with no means of escape. I wanted out. Specific words wanted out. But I couldn’t muster the strength to express my needs. And all other words were meaningless. And so I said nothing.
The irony of my silent stage is not lost on me. As a little girl, I was put on “silence” several times by my father. During these times, my father forbade me to speak or make noise. He stole my voice. Perhaps my body remembered the sensation of irrelevance and disempowerment and mirrored the silence from my childhood.
For over five years, I compromised my wants and needs to keep the peace and go with the flow. But the person I became - spat out of the conveyor belt of this relationship - was unidentifiable in every way.
Being single did not scare me. Yes, single people are an overlooked and invisible sector of society, but I was already invisible in my relationship. It felt good to be invisible on my terms.
Every day of newfound freedom inflated my soul that little bit more. I reconnected with myself and reviewed my values.
It was rejuvenating to discover who I was and what made me happy.
Eleven years ago, I started my journey to live as authentically as possible. No more feeling trapped and gasping for air.
Relationship captivity crushed my spirit and clipped my wings. But time is a healer, and I now stand tall with outspread arms, taking up space and being unapologetic for it.
Living authentically isn’t always easy. It involves embracing our oddities and quirks and being that person others whisper about. But there’s also a reassuring peace that comes with being true to yourself.
Since breaking free from my shackles, I’ve opened myself to true love.
My husband adores me for all that I am and all that I’m not. He encourages my growth and validates my feelings. With his help, I’ve found a deep inner strength to show up in the world exactly as I am.
I have found a best friend and husband in one.
You deserve happiness and joy. You deserve laughter and safety. Don’t waste time with anyone who can’t see your worth. Believe me, it’s lonelier to be in an unhappy relationship than it is to be single.
Thanks for reading
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You can also find my writings and musings on Medium, where I write about well-being, feminism & personal growth. I also own the publication Life Without Children.
Ali, You've grown so much in the last 11 years. You've become a light for others trapped in unhealthy relationships. It does take time to untangle our complicated psychology, but you have shown us what's possible.
Your personal history of relationship including your own recounting of family narcissism is true for many men and women.... especially today.
We all come from some measure of dysfunctional family. Some better. Some worse.
Including that story of recovery is always part of our own return to the authentic self we were born with and is so often taken away from us.
So many people cannot or will not make that resolution leap in their lifetimes because it often means alienation from the very people who were supposed to love us in the beginning. It takes Jesus Like strength and compassion to love them knowing it will not come back to us...but that we Understand them (another word for love though not spoken the same way) is powerful medicine for our own souls an those of our children. Namaste. Thomas