The day I Lost My Soul

I am always amazed when people say that nobody—absolutely nobody—can harm you mentally unless you allow them to do so.

For a long time, I believed that too.

But it was not true for me.

I never imagined my life to be anything but simple and grounded. I was happy doing my own work, teaching my lovely students, and living quietly in my own rhythm. Those days still bring a soft smile to my face when I think of them.

Then I loved.

And love, when given without boundaries, has a way of emptying you before you even realize it.

What happens when you give a part of your heart to someone and they intentionally—or carelessly—crush it? Ambivert people carry a strange vulnerability. We don’t open up easily, but when we do, we give everything. Completely. Unfiltered. Whole.

And giving everything in a relationship comes with a high probability of getting hurt.

I made that mistake. I was all in. I never paused to reflect. I never questioned balance. I made him my life. My whole world began with him and ended with him. My thoughts revolved around him—what he liked to eat, what he liked to watch, what he liked to wear.

Somewhere in that journey, I forgot myself.

And that is where the real loss begins.

The real problem with some men is this: they want their women to be extraordinary, but the moment a woman starts investing energy into her own growth and self-care, it threatens their ego. Suddenly, her independence becomes “attitude.” Her healing becomes “distance.” Her glow becomes “too much.”

Because deep down, their so-called ego only wants to be taken care of—like a child.

What they often forget is that care and warmth are instinctively instilled in women. It is natural. It is sacred. But it is not meant to be exploited.

Take care of your woman, and she will turn your house into a home. Give her space to flourish, and she will fill your life with warmth. When a woman is mentally stable, emotionally secure, growing in her own aura, and glowing from within, love multiplies effortlessly.

But he did the opposite.

He made sure to kill every excitement I had, yet expected me to be everything at once—a perfect cook, a fantasy in bed, and a woman who looked like a celebrity at all times. But when you are not comfortable in your own skin, when you are not at peace, even simple tasks feel heavy.

This is not just my story.

It is the story of many women.

It is the story of a society where men are raised with a default sense of superiority and women are taught to adjust, endure, and disappear quietly.

The day I lost my soul was not the day I loved him.

It was the day I forgot myself while doing so.

And finding yourself again—that is the hardest, bravest journey of all.

Healing did not come overnight. It came in quiet moments—when I chose myself again, when I listened to my own voice after silencing it for so long, when I stopped apologizing for needing peace. I am learning that love should never cost you your identity, your joy, or your sense of self. Healing is remembering who you were before you shrank to fit someone else’s expectations. And every day I return to myself a little more, I don’t feel broken anymore—I feel reborn. 🍁