You Call It Love—But It’s Really Self-Abandonment
She doesn’t think of it as a pattern.
She just knows she tends to give a little more than she gets.
She over-explains. Over-apologizes. Tries harder than she should have to.
She doesn’t speak up when something hurts—not because she doesn’t feel it, but because she doesn’t want to upset anyone. She tells herself she’s just being understanding. That it’s not worth the conflict. That she’s too sensitive anyway.
What she doesn’t always see is that these patterns are often tied to anxiety in relationships, unprocessed grief, and the kind of quiet relational trauma that doesn’t leave visible scars—but still shapes how she shows up for love.
She’s not needy—she’s disconnected from her own needs.
What looks like “chill” or “easygoing” is often the result of years spent learning how to make herself small.
To be palatable.
To not be a problem.
She learned early that connection required performance. That closeness came with conditions. That love could be lost if she made too much noise.
So she made herself convenient.
And now, she doesn’t know how to ask for anything without guilt.
She feels safest when she’s giving—and terrified when she needs.
This isn’t love.
It’s a trauma response dressed up as emotional maturity.
She’s not setting boundaries—she’s managing other people’s reactions.
She says yes when she means no.
She avoids the hard conversations.
She walks on eggshells—calling it empathy.
She over-explains—calling it communication.
She shuts down—calling it calm.
But underneath all of it is fear.
Fear of being misunderstood.
Fear of being too much.
Fear of being left.
This isn’t conflict avoidance. It’s nervous system self-protection.
The relationships feel one-sided because they are.
She’s the listener. The giver. The one who holds space and holds back.
And while she’s showing up fully for everyone else, no one is really showing up for her.
When she’s hurt, she rationalizes.
When she’s tired, she pushes through.
When she needs support, she isolates—because vulnerability has never felt safe.
And the most painful part?
She often feels invisible in the very relationships she works hardest to maintain.
This isn’t just an unhealthy dynamic—it’s emotional self-neglect.
But it’s not her fault.
These patterns didn’t come out of nowhere. They were shaped by experiences where her feelings weren’t welcomed, her voice wasn’t heard, or her safety depended on keeping the peace.
What she calls “love” is often a performance of worthiness.
What she calls “strength” is often silence in disguise.
What she calls “healthy” is often just familiar.
What Does an Unhealthy Relationship Actually Look Like? (Psychoeducation)
Unhealthy relationships aren’t always dramatic. Sometimes, they’re quiet. Normal. Even “functional” on the outside. But they leave you feeling emotionally drained, disconnected, or like you have to earn love.
Common signs include:
Saying yes when you want to say no
Guilt when you need space or express feelings
Fear of being “too much”
Doing all the emotional labor
Feeling like you can’t truly rest in your relationships
These aren’t flaws—they’re patterns of relational trauma.
And they can be unlearned.
It makes sense. But it can change.
Trauma therapy helps unlearn the belief that love must be earned through emotional labor.
Anxiety therapy helps release the urge to manage everyone else’s comfort.
Grief therapy allows space for the sadness you were never allowed to name.
At Mental Lift, I offer trauma-informed virtual therapy for women in North Carolina, Texas, South Carolina, and Florida. I help high-functioning women stop carrying the emotional weight of their relationships—so they can finally come home to themselves.
You Don’t Have to Earn Support
You’ve spent enough time being the one who adjusts, appeases, and disappears to keep connection.
You don’t have to keep proving your worth through silence.
If you’re ready to stop abandoning yourself in the name of love, I’d be honored to walk with you.
Schedule your free consultation now
Something to Bring Into Session (or Your Journal)
Where in my life do I consistently give more than I receive—and why do I allow it?
When was the last time I asked for emotional support without justifying or apologizing for it?
Do I believe I’m worthy of love when I’m not performing, fixing, or overextending?
What would it feel like to stop abandoning myself in the name of keeping the peace?
You don’t have to answer perfectly. Just begin.