You Can Love Someone Without Losing Yourself

THE TUWC JOURNAL · JENNIFER MATTHEWS

Have you ever finished a day feeling absolutely exhausted, even though you haven’t done anything particularly unusual?

You’ve answered everybody’s questions, helped somebody through a difficult moment, changed your plans to accommodate someone else and probably said “It’s fine” more times than you can remember. Yet when you finally sit down, you realise you haven’t had a single moment to yourself.

That’s something I want us to look at, because loving people and losing ourselves in the process are two very different things.

It often starts with something so small we don’t notice

We tend to imagine self-abandonment as some enormous sacrifice. But more often, it’s a series of tiny decisions. We don’t say what we actually think. We agree when we’re already tired. We give away the last hour we had planned for ourselves. We tell ourselves we’ll get around to our own needs later.

Here’s something interesting to consider: sometimes we aren’t even responding to an actual request. We’re responding to what we imagine somebody might need, expect or be upset about. We volunteer before they ask, then feel resentful because nobody noticed what it cost us.

That is worth recognising. The problem may not be that everybody is demanding too much. Sometimes we’ve become so practised at anticipating other people’s feelings that we no longer wait to find out what they really need.

Helping, rescuing and carrying

There are three very different things we can do when somebody we love is struggling.

• Helping: “I have time this afternoon. Would it help if I did that with you?”
• Rescuing: “I’ll fix this immediately because I can’t bear to see you upset.”
• Carrying: “If I don’t keep managing this, everything will fall apart, and it’ll somehow be my responsibility.”

Of course there are times when people genuinely need substantial support. Children, people who are unwell and those facing a crisis may need more than a little help. The question isn’t whether we should care. It’s whether we’ve quietly taken on responsibilities that actually belong to another capable adult.

For example, you can listen to an adult family member talk about a difficult day without solving the problem for them. You can offer help without making yourself available every minute. And you can be kind to somebody who is disappointed without changing your decision purely to make the disappointment disappear.

The difference between a request and an expectation you’ve invented

Here’s a little exercise that can be surprisingly revealing. Think about the last thing you did for somebody that left you feeling resentful. Now ask: Did they actually ask me to do it?

Sometimes the answer is no. We saw a problem, imagined the consequences of not stepping in and volunteered ourselves. We then felt hurt because nobody recognised the sacrifice. That’s a pattern we can interrupt without becoming less caring.

Try sorting your commitments into three groups: asked of me, offered freely by me and assumed by me. The third group is often where the greatest opportunities for change appear.

It doesn’t mean every unspoken responsibility is unreasonable. Families share responsibilities, and some needs are obvious. But it’s useful to notice when you’re treating a prediction about somebody else’s reaction as though it were a firm obligation.

The resentment test

Resentment isn’t proof that another person has behaved badly. Sometimes it tells us that we’ve agreed to something without being honest about our limits.

Ask yourself: “If nobody thanked me, would I still freely choose to do this?” If the answer is no, consider whether you need to ask for support, negotiate a fairer arrangement or stop offering what you can’t comfortably give.

And here’s the part we often overlook: changing a pattern may mean tolerating a little awkwardness while everybody learns the new arrangement. You can be respectful without immediately rushing to remove that awkwardness.

The hidden cost of keeping the peace

Sometimes what we call “keeping the peace” is really postponing an uncomfortable conversation. We agree today, feel resentful tomorrow, and eventually become so tired that we react much more strongly than we intended.

Real peace needs honesty. If your yes is costing you sleep, time, money or your own sense of choice, it’s worth asking whether that yes was freely given.

Try distinguishing between discomfort and danger. Somebody being briefly unhappy with your answer may be uncomfortable, but it isn’t automatically dangerous. If there is intimidation, threats or abuse, however, safety and outside support come first; boundary-setting alone may not be enough.

A practical exercise: the ten-second return

The next time somebody asks something of you, try this before answering:

1. Notice. Did you feel an instant urge to agree, explain or fix?
2. Check. What did you have planned? How much energy do you actually have?
3. Choose. Would you still offer this help if you weren’t worried about their reaction?
4. Respond. “I can’t today.” “I can help for twenty minutes.” “Let me think about that.”

If this feels difficult, create an advance plan: “If I feel pressured to answer immediately, I’ll say I need to check my schedule first.” Research on these simple if–then plans suggests that rehearsing a response can make it easier to follow through when the moment arrives.

One thing I’d really like you to remember

A relationship doesn’t become healthier simply because one person becomes better at accommodating everyone else. Healthy relationships have room for two people’s needs, preferences and limits.

And remember this: being available isn’t the same as being loving. You can be deeply loving while protecting your own time, health and peace.

Ask yourself today: Where am I offering love freely, and where am I trying to earn peace by disappearing?

Continue your journey

If you’d like to explore the difference between closeness and unlimited access, take a look at Access Is Earned Through Relationship, a TUWC resource on how family roles, familiarity and history don’t automatically mean someone has unlimited access to your time, space or belongings.

Part of our sovereignty and self-abandonment teachings with Isara.