Losing Me for You

While I thought I was being a supportive, loving, caring, and faithful partner, the truth is I was actually losing myself along the way.

It takes you slow, like water dripping in a cup you never thought will overflow. You tell yourself you will never be like that. You repeat to yourself these shifts are normal since you're in a healthy relationship, and you are simply growing and becoming accustom to your new relationship. Then one day, you wake up, and you're worse than that. You look in the mirror and see the same face, but an emptiness behind it. You don't even see the way back, or the way to go.

How did this happen? How did I let this happen? Did I really put my life on pause for two years because of one person? Was I really waiting for someone to pave my life for me?

Who is she? Who is this person I see in the mirror that I do not recognize anymore?

And who was I, before him? What are the things that made me, me?

I have become a shell of a person.

How does one begin to find themselves again? Does it start with creating a routine, or listing out the type of person they crave to be, or the things they want to achieve? Where to start?

Suddenly, there are so many things I want to do and be, how do I fit them all in my day? How do I stay consistent and not just let this die down within the first two days, like all the other routines I attempt to do?

The curtains have been lifted off my eyes and I realized what I have become. The sadness and disappointment settle in. The things that were once enjoyable to me, mean nothing to me, because I centered him too much in my life.

I still love him, we are still together, but I cannot continue spending my days waiting and daydreaming about the day we are finally reunited together and married. I am going to live my life until that day comes, and I am going to live my life the way I want.

On the phone, he will ask me, how was your day, what did you do today? It is the same answer everyday. I have nothing to talk to him about, because I do nothing during my day. The silence hums on the line while I scramble for something to say. He was my whole day. But there was me before him...

I used to read romance books. The spines of novels cracked open on my nightstand, pages waiting. Then I told myself, no romance book matches what I have, so I stopped reading altogether.

I used to go out with my friends, the clinking of glasses, our laughter echoing all throughout the cafe, the buzz of music in the background. Until I started going out with him and realizing I do not want to spend my time with anyone else but him, and nothing is as enjoyable as going out with him. So I cut back on going out with my friends.

I used to go to the gym, sneakers laced, headphones blasting my favorite songs. Then I would skip a day to see him, until I started skipping weeks and months.

I used to go to sleep early, wake up energized and give my 100% to everything I do, until I started sleeping late, just to spend a few more hours talking to him. My eyelids heavy, the glow of the phone screen burning into the dark.

I used to drive everywhere and anywhere, music up, windows down. Until he started driving me everywhere, and I got lazy and more anxious when it came to driving. My car sat quiet, collecting dust.

I used to always look my best going out. Lipstick uncapped, perfume in the air, clothes thrown all over my room. Until I started to only want to look good for him, so I stopped putting effort in my appearance when he is not there.

And now I am doing long distance, and I lost everything I once cared for. I lost my spark, I thought it was because I was away from him, but it's because of everything I did when I was with him. It was all the choices that I chose to make. He never asked me to do those things. In fact, he always encouraged me, and still does, to do my own things.

I am the one who gave him my all. I spent all of the past years waiting for our next step, but the truth is, his journey only just started. Which means there is a lot of waiting, and I am not willing to live the rest of my years as a shell of a person. I want to do my own thing, until he is ready, like he is doing his own thing.

Long distance is hard, but I am only making it harder on myself this way. And I begin to despise who I am, and miss my old self. My younger self, who was so independent. I thought the older I get, the better I would develop, and the more I would love myself. But the truth is, I do not like this version of myself. I see her sitting in the dim light, scrolling endlessly, waiting. And that has to change.