In the early days of our relationship, she sent me a song.
She didn’t say much. Just “listen to this when you’re on your own… it’s how I feel about you.”
So I did.
And what I heard wasn’t just a love song. It was loneliness. It was someone who had already been hurt. Someone who didn’t feel whole on their own. Someone who believed they needed another person to feel safe, complete… grounded.
At the time, I remember thinking:
I understand this. I can be that person for her.
I thought I was stepping into something meaningful. Protecting. Supporting. Showing her what love should feel like.
But what I didn’t realise then is this:
When someone is still trying to heal from their past, love doesn’t always land the way you think it will.
When the Music Changes
As time went on, something shifted.
The warmth became distance.
The closeness became questions.
The connection became confusion.
And somewhere in that change… I changed too.
Towards the end of the relationship, I sent her a song back.
But this time, it wasn’t about her.
It was about me.
It was everything I couldn’t say out loud.
The anxiety.
The overthinking.
The feeling that I was slipping… not just losing her, but losing myself.
Because that’s what it felt like.
Like the walls were closing in.
Like my mind was running faster than I could control.
Like I was becoming someone I didn’t recognise.
The Things We Don’t Say
Looking back now, the biggest mistake wasn’t the songs.
It was the silence around them.
I never explained what I was feeling.
I never said “I’m struggling.”
I never said “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”
Because deep down, I didn’t think it would matter.
I thought she had her own battles.
I thought I needed to stay strong.
I thought I just had to hold it together.
So I did what a lot of people do in relationships like this…
I carried it.
Quietly.
How You Lose Yourself Without Realising
I started that relationship as a secure person.
Confident. Grounded. Clear on who I was.
And I came out of it anxious.
Overthinking everything.
Second-guessing myself.
Trying to fix things that were never mine to fix.
That shift doesn’t happen overnight.
It happens slowly.
Call by call.
Conversation by conversation.
Moment by moment where you choose their needs over your own… until you don’t recognise yourself anymore.
What Those Songs Taught Me
When I hear those songs now, they don’t just remind me of her.
They show me the timeline of what happened.
One song was about who she was when I met her.
The other was about who I became trying to love her.
And that’s the part people don’t talk about enough:
You can go into a relationship trying to save someone…
…and end up losing yourself in the process.
Why This Matters
If you recognise yourself in this, you’re not alone.
A lot of people walk into relationships thinking love will heal everything.
But love isn’t supposed to cost you your identity.
It’s not supposed to leave you anxious, confused, or questioning your worth.
And it’s definitely not supposed to turn you into someone you don’t recognise.
If You’re Trying to Make Sense of It
This is exactly why I started writing.
Not from theory. Not from textbooks. But from living it.
Books like The Narcissist Handbook, A Fine Line Between Love and Hate, and They Became The Chapter. You Became The Author are there for people who’ve been through this and are trying to understand what actually happened.
Because when you’re in it, it’s confusing.
When you’re out of it, it still doesn’t always make sense.
But once you start joining the dots, something changes.
You stop blaming yourself.
You start seeing the patterns.
And slowly… you find your way back to who you were before it all began.
The Truth Most People Learn Too Late
Sometimes the biggest lesson isn’t about them.
It’s about you.
About how far you were willing to go.
How much you were willing to carry.
How long you stayed when something didn’t feel right.
And most importantly…
How you rebuild after it’s over.
Because you can.
Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.