How to Stay Madly in Love

I lost myself once.

It happened slowly. Like a sunset you don't notice until it's dark.

I met him at a coffee shop. He liked my laugh. I liked how he remembered my favorite book. We talked for hours. Then weeks. Then years.

But one day, I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the woman staring back.

She ate his favorite foods. Listened to his playlists. Skipped girls' nights to stay home with him.

She said "we" more than "I."

I want to tell you how I found my way back.

The Day I Forgot My Own Birthday

It was a Tuesday. He planned a surprise dinner. His friends. His favorite restaurant.

When the waiter asked, "Any allergies?" he said, "She eats everything."

But I'm allergic to shellfish.

I didn't correct him. I ate the shrimp. Smiled through the hives.

That night, I cried in the shower.

Love shouldn't erase you.

How to Keep Your Voice

Start small.

Tell them what you hate.

For me, it was action movies. I pretended to love them for two years.

One night, I said, "I'd rather watch paint dry."

He laughed. "Me too. Let's watch baking shows instead."

Your quirks aren't flaws. They're confetti.

The Lie of "Perfect" Couples

My neighbors hold hands everywhere. They post matching outfits online.

Last week, I saw her sitting alone in her car, crying.

Nobody talks about the days love feels heavy.

It's okay to say, "I need space."

Love grows in the quiet moments apart.

Your Hobbies Are Not Optional

I stopped painting when we moved in together. "Too messy," he said.

One day, I bought a $5 sketchbook. Drew stupid cartoons at the kitchen table.

He asked, "What's that?"

"Me," I said.

Now he hangs my doodles on the fridge.

The Magic Word You're Afraid to Use

"No."

No, I don't want to camp.

No, I won't skip my sister's wedding for your work trip.

No, I can't fix your loneliness.

Say it gently. But say it.

Love Doesn't Own Your Pain

When my dad died, he said, "Let me take care of you."

I let him. For months.

But grief isn't a burden you hand someone. It's a path you walk together.

I started therapy. He learned to listen instead of fix.

The Secret No One Tells You

You don't have to share everything.

I have a journal he'll never read.

He has a guitar he plays alone in the garage.

We're not hiding. We're breathing.

How to Know It's Working

You'll fight about chores.

Forget anniversaries.

Snore through their stories.

But one morning, you'll wake up and think:

"I'm still me. And I'm still yours."

That's the goal.

P.S.

If you’ve ever hidden a part of yourself to keep love, this is your reminder: You don’t have to shrink to fit someone else’s idea of perfect.

Love isn’t about losing yourself. It’s about finding someone who loves the real you—the messy, stubborn, beautifully flawed you.

I used to think love meant giving everything. But now I know: The best love leaves room for you.

So tonight, do something just for you.

Paint.

Dance in your pajamas.

Call the friend you haven’t talked to in months.

And if you’re sitting there thinking, “But what if they leave?” let me tell you this:

The right person won’t leave because you’re honest.

They’ll stay because you’re you.

And if they do leave?

That’s not love. That’s a lesson.

You deserve someone who loves you and lets you be you.

So take up space. Speak up. Say no.

Because the most madly in love you’ll ever be is when you’re madly in love with yourself.

P.S.S. If you've ever hidden a part of yourself to keep love, tell me in the comments. Let's promise to never do it again.