The Versions of Me I Gave Away in Love

Love, Relationships & Loss series

I’ve given away pieces of myself in love. Not all at once, not always knowingly, but enough that sometimes I barely recognize the woman I am when I look back.

There’s the version that smiled through hurt because I didn’t want to rock the boat. The version that apologized for things I didn’t do, just to keep peace. The version that silenced her needs so someone else’s could take the spotlight. The version that bent herself into shapes that didn’t fit, thinking love was about sacrifice, about molding, about losing edges to make someone else comfortable.

I wonder if he ever noticed. I wonder if he knew—or cared—how much of me he held without permission.

And yet, I did it willingly, or so I thought. I traded pieces for affection, for approval, for the hope that love could be something I could earn. Pieces of me, given away like currency, hoping it would buy connection, safety, devotion.

Now I see it differently. The versions I gave away weren’t lost—they were borrowed. I can take them back. I can reclaim them. I can remind myself: I am whole, even after giving, even after sacrificing, even after the love I thought I needed faded or changed.

Love is not meant to hollow me out. And the versions of me I gave away? They are still here. Waiting. Ready to come home.