Image of me
I used to think staying made me strong, I stayed through the late replies I explained away, the apologies that sounded rehearsed, the silence that felt louder than words. I stayed when my friends raised eyebrows and when my own heart whispered, this isn’t right. But I called it love, i called it patience and I called it loyalty.
There were red flags, yes but I renamed them. His inconsistency became “he’s just busy.” His lack of effort became “he’s going through a lot.” And every time I swallowed my feelings instead of speaking up, I told myself I was choosing peace over conflict that I'm a quiet girl
Truth is, I wasn’t choosing peace, I was abandoning myself.
I thought I was doing the noble thing like being the understanding woman, wife material, as they will always say, the one who doesn’t complain, the one who stays when things get hard. I wore that identity like a badge of honor, not realizing it was slowly draining me. I became quieter, smaller, less sure of who I was without him.
And one day, I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize the woman staring back.
She was tired, not just physically, but deeply emotionally exhausted from pouring into something that gave little in return.
That was the day it hit me: staying too long doesn’t prove love. Sometimes, it only proves you’ve forgotten your worth.
Here's the reality check...
Staying where you are constantly drained comes with a price many women don’t see until it’s too late. It chips away at your self-esteem, making you question your value. It normalizes disrespect, turning red flags into routine.
It silences your voice until you no longer know how to speak up for yourself.
You lose time, energy, and sometimes even your identity.
It drains your confidence, you begin to question yourself, your worth, your voice, your needs. It teaches you to tolerate less than you deserve and calls it normal. It replaces your peace with anxiety and your clarity with confusion.
And the most dangerous part? You get used to it.
But here’s the truth: walking away is not failure. It is alignment.
You can leave with loyalty because loyalty should include yourself. You can leave with dignity without drama, without revenge, without noise. And you will still be relevant because your value was never tied to who you stayed with, but to who you are.
Standing up doesn’t always mean fighting, sometimes, it means choosing yourself quietly. Walking away doesn’t mean you didn’t love it means you finally loved yourself enough to see through it
And that is where your power begins.
