I Needed to Lose You to Find Me ; I Needed to Hate You to Love Me

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

There’s a strange magic in letting go. It feels like ripping off a Band-Aid you’ve worn for so long it became part of your skin. But the pain is what reminds you that you’re alive, and it’s only when the wound breathes that it begins to heal.

For people like me — people pleasers, emotional acrobats — losing someone feels like losing the sun. You orbit them, basking in their warmth, hoping your sacrifices will keep the light shining. You give until there’s nothing left, reshaping yourself into shadows to fit their needs. And yet, even as you disappear in their glow, they never seem to notice how dim you’ve become. And if it’s meant that with losing you, I can gain the peace of mind I’ve been searching for all of this time. Then, I’d rather do it. With an open heart, I won’t let you used me again.

It wasn’t always this way. There was a time I believed in balance, in reciprocity, in love that didn’t come with strings attached. But somewhere along the line, I mistook self-sacrifice for affection, and boundaries became blurry lines drawn in water. I learned to read every subtle shift in tone, to anticipate needs before they were spoken, to become a mirror for someone else’s desires.

Being a people pleaser is like being a chameleon in a room full of changing lights. You’re constantly shifting, adapting, becoming what you think they need. But in all that morphing, you lose sight of your true colors. And when the person you’ve bent over backward for walks away? It feels like you’re standing naked in the dark, unsure of who you were before them.

This wasn’t just about love; it was about friendships, too. The friends I thought would be there forever, the ones I stayed up late comforting, cheering on, pouring my energy into without hesitation. Friendships where I gave and gave, but when it came time for reciprocity, there was silence. It’s a harsh truth to face, realizing that some friendships only thrive because one person does all the work. And when you stop being the bridge, the connection crumbles.

But losing you — whether you were a lover or a friend — that was the breaking point. It wasn’t just losing a relationship; it was losing the illusion that pleasing you would ever be enough. It was standing in front of the empty space where your approval used to be and realizing that I had never filled my own cup.

At first, the silence was unbearable. Like the static noise of an empty house, the kind that makes you ache for company even when it’s toxic. But slowly, in that stillness, I started hearing something else. A whisper I hadn’t heard in years — my own voice.

Finding myself wasn’t some grand revelation. It wasn’t a phoenix rising from the ashes or a lightning bolt of clarity. It was small moments: saying no without apologizing, standing firm when someone tried to push me, looking in the mirror and asking, “What do you want?”

And as I began to answer that question, piece by piece, the person I had buried beneath years of people-pleasing began to resurface. I started recognizing my own needs as valid, my desires as worthy. I learned that loving myself wasn’t selfish; it was survival.

Losing you was painful, yes. But in that pain, I found a freedom I didn’t know I needed. You were the weight holding me underwater, and in letting go, I finally learned to swim.

Now, I no longer twist myself into knots to fit someone else’s expectations. I’ve stopped chasing people who make me feel like I’m too much and not enough all at once. I’ve learned that the right people will embrace me as I am, not as I can mold myself to be.

Try to lock me in this cage
I won’t just lay me down and die
I will take these broken wings
And watch me burn across the sky
And it echoes saying I...
Won’t be silenced
Though you wanna see me tremble when you try it
All I know is I won’t go speechless
Speechless
Cause I’ll breathe
When they try to suffocate me
Don’t you underestimate me
Cause I know that I won’t go speechless
All I know is I won’t go speechless

Speechless by Naomi Scott

• So thank you for leaving, for showing me the cracks in my foundation, for giving me the push I needed to rebuild. I needed to lose you to find me — and the person I’ve found is stronger, braver, and more whole than I ever thought possible. Because sometimes, losing someone isn’t the end of a chapter; it’s the start of a new book. And this one? It’s mine to write.

Now, I’m only pleasing people who deserve me, who never make me feel neglected, who give me the feedback I need. I never changed, I just recognized my self-worth and prioritized myself more. And I am grateful for that. I’m no longer a person who’s easily being manipulated.