I saw a story on TikTok that genuinely broke my heart.

A woman opened up about how she was drowning in her marriage because of the physical and emotional abuse she had endured. As she shared her experience, something she said stayed with me long after I finished watching.

According to her, abusive relationships rarely begin with any signs of abuse. They often begin like a beautiful love story. There is affection, attention, sweet promises, and the feeling that you have finally found someone who sees you, chooses you, and wants to protect you.

Then, gradually, something changes.

The control begins to disguise itself as love. Jealousy becomes proof that someone cares. Constant monitoring is presented as protection. Hurtful words are dismissed as anger, and apologies make you believe that the person you fell in love with is still there, somewhere beneath all the pain.

Before you realise what is happening, you may find yourself making excuses for behaviour that once would have been unacceptable to you.

And perhaps the scariest part is what happens next.

You begin to question yourself. You wonder whether you are too sensitive, too demanding, or too difficult to love. You start believing that if you could only communicate better, become more patient, stop upsetting your partner, or learn to do things differently, perhaps the person hurting you would finally treat you with the love and tenderness you have been desperately hoping for.

So instead of asking why someone keeps hurting you, you start asking what is wrong with you.

You try harder. You apologise more. You silence your feelings to avoid another argument. You become careful about what you say and how you say it. Little by little, you begin adjusting yourself to keep the relationship together, hoping that one day your efforts will be enough.

And somewhere along the way, you may lose sight of the woman you were before all this began.

I kept thinking about that woman and how many others might recognise parts of their own stories in hers. Not every painful relationship follows the same pattern, and nobody should have to endure abuse to prove their love. But when you are emotionally invested in someone, recognising that the relationship has become harmful can be painfully complicated.

Sometimes, you are not simply holding on to the person. You are holding on to the memories, the promises, the future you imagined, and the hope that things will return to the way they used to be.

You remember how beautiful everything felt at the beginning, and you keep trying to find your way back to that version of the relationship.

But what happens when, in trying so hard to make someone love you the way you deserve to be loved, you begin to lose the person you used to be?

That is the woman I want us to talk about today. The woman who keeps changing herself, not because she has stopped knowing her worth, but because she has started believing that being loved depends on getting everything right.

And perhaps, somewhere in her story, you might recognise a woman you once knew, a friend you worry about, or even a part of yourself you have been trying to find again.

When You Start Walking on Eggshells in Your Own Home

There is something deeply exhausting about never knowing which version of your partner you will meet when you walk through the door.

On some days, everything feels fine. You laugh together, share a meal, and almost convince yourself that perhaps the difficult period has passed. You begin to relax.

Then something small happens. A question you ask is misunderstood. A meal does not turn out the way your partner expects. You spend money on something you needed, or you express an opinion they do not agree with.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changes.

You are accused of being disrespectful, ungrateful, or argumentative. Perhaps there is shouting, days of silence, or another painful argument that leaves you wondering how something so ordinary became such a big problem.

Eventually, you learn to anticipate these moments.

You rehearse conversations in your head before having them. You carefully choose your words. You avoid mentioning certain subjects because you already know how the discussion might end.

You may even find yourself monitoring your partner’s mood before deciding whether it is safe to express your own feelings.

At first, you might tell yourself that you are simply being considerate. After all, every relationship requires compromise.

But there is a difference between being considerate of someone you love and being afraid of their reaction.

Compromise allows both people to have a voice. Fear teaches one person to become smaller so the other can remain comfortable.

If you have reached the point where you cannot express yourself freely without worrying about punishment, intimidation, or humiliation, please do not dismiss your feelings as ordinary relationship struggles.

You deserve to feel safe in your own home.

The Exhaustion of Always Trying to Be Enough

Perhaps you have become the woman who apologises first, even when you are still trying to understand what went wrong.

You explain your intentions repeatedly. You send long messages hoping that if you find the right words, your partner will finally understand how much they have hurt you.

You try to be more affectionate, more patient, more accommodating, and less demanding.

When those changes do not work, you search for something else to improve about yourself.

Maybe you should lose weight. Perhaps you should earn more money. You wonder whether you have become boring, whether you are not doing enough around the house, or whether another woman would know how to make your partner happier.

The goalposts keep moving, but you keep running.

And because you love this person, you may not immediately recognise how much of your life has become centred on proving that you deserve decent treatment.

Let me tell you something, gently.

You can be imperfect and still deserve respect. You can make mistakes and still deserve to be spoken to without cruelty. You can disagree with someone without deserving threats, humiliation, or violence.

No relationship is perfect, and there are times when we genuinely need to reflect on our own behaviour. But healthy self-reflection is not the same as accepting responsibility for another person’s decision to hurt you.

You are not required to become a flawless woman before someone treats you with kindness.

Love should not feel like an examination you keep failing, no matter how hard you study.

Why You Keep Hoping the Old Version of Them Will Return

This is the part that can be difficult for people looking from the outside to understand.

Someone might ask, “If this person makes you so unhappy, why don’t you just leave?”

It sounds straightforward when you are not the one living through it.

But relationships are rarely experienced as one long, uninterrupted moment of pain. There may be good memories, shared responsibilities, children, financial commitments, family expectations, and years of building a life together.

You may remember how your partner cared for you when you first met. Perhaps they supported you through a difficult season or made you feel seen at a time when you desperately needed connection.

You remember the laughter, the promises, and the future you planned together.

When things become painful, you hope those moments will return.

Then comes an apology. Your partner promises to change, and for a while, things seem better. You allow yourself to hope again.

When the hurt returns, you may wonder whether you simply need to be more patient.

This cycle can make it difficult to decide what to do, especially when you are emotionally attached to the person who is also causing you pain.

If this sounds familiar, you may find comfort in reading When a Relationship Hurts but Leaving Feels Impossible. Sometimes, understanding why leaving feels so complicated is an important step towards recognising what you need.

Please remember that you do not have to prove that a relationship is painful enough to deserve support. And you do not have to wait until things become worse before taking your concerns seriously.

The Loneliness of Losing Yourself While Staying Together

One of the saddest things about losing yourself in a relationship is that other people may not notice.

You still attend family gatherings. You post photographs together. You may sit beside your partner at social events, smiling while everyone assumes that your marriage is fine.

From the outside, you look like a woman who has everything together.

But nobody sees the tears you wipe away before getting out of bed. Nobody knows how carefully you choose your words at home or how often you swallow your feelings to prevent another argument.

Perhaps you have stopped confiding in friends because you are tired of explaining why you are still there. Maybe you feel embarrassed that things have not changed despite all the conversations you have had.

So you become quieter about your struggles.

You tell people that marriage requires patience. You say every couple has problems. You convince yourself that other women are going through worse things and that perhaps you should simply be grateful for what you have.

Meanwhile, your own unhappiness remains unspoken.

There is a particular kind of grief in mourning a relationship while still living inside it. You can miss the person your partner used to be, the woman you were before things changed, and the life you once believed you would have together.

I explored a related experience in The Silent Grief of Staying in an Unhappy Marriage: The Pain Nobody Sees.

Sometimes, the loneliness is not about having nobody beside you. It is about feeling that you cannot safely bring your whole self into the relationship.

And that is a heavy thing for any woman to carry alone.

You Are Allowed to Want More Than the Absence of an Argument

When a relationship becomes emotionally exhausting, your expectations can quietly change.

You stop asking whether you are happy and start asking whether today was peaceful.

You feel relieved when your partner does not shout. You celebrate a day without criticism. You interpret ordinary kindness as evidence that things are finally improving.

Of course, peace matters in every relationship. But peace should mean more than getting through another day without upsetting someone.

You deserve to be able to disagree without being threatened. You deserve to express sadness without being mocked. You deserve to maintain friendships, have personal interests and make ordinary decisions without fear.

You deserve affection that does not come with conditions designed to control you.

The World Health Organization recognises intimate partner violence as including physical aggression, sexual coercion, psychological abuse and controlling behaviours. You can learn more from its fact sheet on violence against women.

Understanding these patterns does not mean you have to label every disagreement as abuse. It means recognising that repeated intimidation, humiliation, coercion and control are not simply the price of being in a relationship.

You can love someone and still acknowledge that their behaviour is hurting you.

You can appreciate the good memories without pretending the painful ones never happened.

And you can wish things were different without making yourself responsible for changing another person’s behaviour.

Finding Your Way Back to the Woman You Were

Perhaps you have read this far and realised how much of yourself you have been putting aside.

Maybe you cannot remember the last time you did something simply because it made you happy. Perhaps your friendships have faded, your confidence has weakened, or you have become so accustomed to questioning yourself that making even a small decision feels difficult.

Please do not turn this realisation into another reason to criticise yourself.

You were trying to make something important to you work. You were hoping for love, security and a future with someone you cared about.

There is no shame in having hope.

Finding your way back to yourself does not mean you must suddenly become fearless or make every difficult decision overnight. It can begin with allowing yourself to acknowledge what you feel without immediately dismissing it.

You might start by asking yourself a few honest questions.

What have I stopped doing because my partner disapproves?

When did I begin feeling afraid to express my needs?

Who could I speak to honestly without being judged?

What would feeling safe, respected, and emotionally supported look like for me?

You do not have to answer every question today. Sometimes, simply allowing yourself to ask them is a beginning.

If you feel safe doing so, reconnect with someone you trust. Consider speaking privately with a domestic abuse support service or a qualified professional who understands abusive relationships.

If you are experiencing abuse, remember that making a safety plan can be important, particularly if your partner monitors your phone, finances, or movements. You do not have to confront your partner or announce your plans before seeking help.

If you are in the UK, the National Domestic Abuse Helpline offers free, confidential support to women experiencing domestic abuse. You can seek advice even if you are unsure what to call your experience.

If you are in immediate danger, contact emergency services.

Most importantly, understand that reclaiming yourself does not depend on whether your partner finally recognises your worth. You do not need their permission to acknowledge your pain, seek support, or begin thinking about your own well-being.

Your safety comes first, and you deserve support that respects your circumstances and choices.

You Were Never Supposed to Disappear to Be Loved

I keep thinking about the woman whose story I watched on TikTok.

I do not know every detail of her life, and I cannot pretend to understand everything she has endured. But her words reminded me how easily the desire to preserve a relationship can become tangled up with the belief that we must keep changing ourselves to deserve love.

Perhaps you know that feeling.

Perhaps you have spent years trying to become the woman your partner wants, hoping that one day you will finally get it right.

Perhaps you have apologised for your feelings, hidden your disappointments, and convinced yourself that asking for kindness is asking for too much.

If that is where you find yourself today, I want you to pause for a moment.

You are allowed to grow. You are allowed to recognise your mistakes and work on yourself. Every one of us has room to become a better person.

But growth should not require you to abandon your dignity, silence your voice, or accept abuse.

You do not have to earn the right to feel safe. You do not have to become more beautiful, more successful, more patient, or more accommodating to justify being treated with respect.

And you do not have to hate someone before you acknowledge that a relationship is hurting you.

Sometimes, the hardest part is accepting that the love you remember and the reality you are living with are no longer the same.

That realisation can bring sadness, confusion, and fear. It can also be the beginning of asking what you need, what you deserve, and what a healthier future might look like.

I cannot promise that finding yourself again will be easy. I cannot tell you what decision to make about your relationship, because I do not know your circumstances.

But I hope you will stop measuring your worth by how successfully you can keep another person happy.

The woman you were before the relationship mattered. The woman you have become matters, too. And the woman you are still becoming deserves a life in which she does not have to disappear to keep someone beside her.

You can love someone deeply without making yourself responsible for teaching them how to love you without hurting you.

And if you have been losing yourself in the process of trying to be loved, perhaps the next chapter of your story can begin with a gentler question:

What would it look like to start choosing myself, too?

Not out of bitterness. Not because you have given up on love.

But because you are a person, too, and your life deserves care, tenderness, safety, and room to breathe.

With love,

Nneka Linda

My Psyche and Yours