Until just a few years ago, I wouldn’t even introduce myself with my properly pronounced name because I didn’t want to make other people uncomfortable if they said it wrong. 

I stayed in friendships with people who were being just plain mean and unkind to me. 

Yea, I was a pretty intense people-pleaser. And very codependent. That translated into my romantic relationships, too, until I finally woke up and realized that I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I’ll share my story along with how I got through it, and what life is like for me now on the other side. My aim in sharing this is that my story can give you some hope if you or someone you love is also struggling.

I was always putting on a mask

I stayed in abusive and toxic relationships where I had to be someone who wasn’t me. I had to put on a mask. And not completely a fake mask, because it was a part of me, but it was required that I could ONLY be that. Not the other elements of my personality that are also true and real. 

I had to be not too sensitive. And not have too many emotions. If I did, I’d be mocked. I couldn’t bring up little things that bothered me, or it’d be used as an attack on my character. In the end, I was always somehow the one in the wrong. So I didn’t even bring up anything that was hurting me anymore, because my partner couldn’t take any responsibility themself, so it’d just be pushed back on me, ten-fold. 

Taking on way too much responsibility

It got to the point where I went to couples therapy, alone. When the therapist said, “Well, it takes two to really make this work,” I was in such denial of how much over-responsibility I was taking that I replied, “Yea, but I think if I clean up all of my stuff that’ll fix things, so where should we start?” 

In other words, I was the Problem. 

What I realize now is there’s also a really sneaky control and power in saying that. Because if I am 100% of the problem, then I also have the complete power to fix it. But really, neither was true.

I couldn’t let go

What I couldn’t do at the time was let go. I couldn’t let go of this belief of what a successful relationship is—one that lasts, regardless of what the “lasting” part actually looks like day to day. 

I couldn’t let go of this belief I had of myself being a terrible partner, and an even worse lover. 

I believed all the things my partner would say about me. That I’m stupid. That I’m not funny. That I’m not attractive. Those stopped being just “things they said” and in my mind became “truths about Jolié.” 

Internalizing the abuse

Eventually, I didn’t need them to tell me anymore because I believed it all myself, and I’d remind myself of those self-degrading things all the time. That’s what got me to stay in the relationship. 

Because if I really was all those things, I should just be grateful to have someone that’s willing to put up with it and be in a relationship with me, right?

Because if I left, or if they left me, I’d be lost, and there’s no way anyone else would want anything to do with me as a potential date, never mind as their girlfriend, right? 

This was as good as it was gonna get for me, so I might as well just suck it up and deal with it. Look at the bright side, at least they’re not physically abusive, right? 

Yep. That’s how the tape played out in my mind.

So I stayed. I shrunk myself more and more on a daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly basis, until at the end, I didn’t know who I was anymore. It’s that slow boil. That slow burn. And boy, was my self-worth burned to a crisp.

Ending the relationship: the hardest & best thing that happened

Needless to say, that relationship ended. It’s wild to think how that was my life just 4 years ago.

The end of that relationship, at the time, was the worst and hardest thing I’d ever been through. I thought my life was over. I couldn’t get out of bed. I was losing weight because I couldn’t eat. My body was shaking with anxiety from the moment I opened my eyes in the morning.

I’d never felt that kind of heartbreak before. And that confusion of not even knowing who I was or what I was doing with my life. 

Related video: What Heartbreak Is Like, in Simple Terms

Digging deep and asking for help

The end of that relationship— and the deep pain it caused— forced me to dig deep and develop a sense of self that I’m not sure I ever would have developed otherwise. It forced me to open up to trustworthy people in my life in a more vulnerable way than ever before.

I couldn't put myself back together on my own–I didn’t even know what I was putting back together anymore. I needed support, and I was broken enough that my pride, ego, or my fear didn’t get in the way. I asked for help. From a therapist. From my friends. From my recovery support network. 

It took time and a lot of work, a lot of tears and painful realizations, but when I look at myself then versus now, I can’t believe it. It’s night and day. 

Now I can see that breakup as when the next chapter of my life really started.

Related article: What it’s Really Like to Start Over (Some Hope from the Future)

What things are like after starting over

So much of who you see me as today would’ve never existed if not for that part of my journey. It’s wild, and it’s a part of my story that I’m grateful to have healed from. I don’t look back with anger and resentment anymore. I’ve processed it. I’ve learned from it. I’ve forgiven myself, and now I’m on to bigger and brighter things for my life. 

It’s to a point now where it’s wild to think that pleasing people and codependency aren’t my biggest challenges anymore.

Comfortable being alone

Since then, I’ve developed enough self-worth and self-acceptance that I’m so okay on my own and so comfortable with my own company. And I’ve also been able to experience other loving relationships and connections that show me that I’m not the same person I was back then, and that there is hope for healthy, authentic relationships even after years of being that codependent, people-pleaser that I was.

Related article: I Fell in Love (Love Letter)

If you’re struggling, I’m here for you

I’m still a work in progress. But the journey has been so worth it.

It’s beautiful because now I’m on the other side and can share my story that might resonate with someone still stuck, with this nagging pit in their chest that something is off, but not knowing whether they can do anything about it. 

Hey, you. I get it. I’ve been there. I see you. I know it’s hard. And I believe in you. The most beautiful part of your story hasn’t even been written yet.

Today, I coach people on how to have more authentic relationships—with themselves and with others. If you resonate with any of my story and would like some support, just reach out and let’s chat.