I Thought I Lost Myself. I Handed Myself Over, Piece by Piece.
One day, I was shopping in a clothes store. I usually came with my ex-partner, but that day they had work, so I was there by myself. The staff greeted me with a smile and asked: “What color would you like? This outfit comes in five colors — black, white, red, brown and blue.” At that moment, I froze. I didn’t know what colors I liked. All I could remember was my ex telling me I looked good in black.
Suddenly, the questions came flooding in. What food did I like? What did I like to do on weekends? Did I like design because of my ex, or did I like it from my heart? It was a time full of confusion and fear. I felt like I was losing myself.
Looking back at nineteen, when I first met my ex-partner, they had everything that attracted me: strong opinions, great taste in design and clothing, their own world, and the nerve to say no to people who weren’t part of it.
They had such good taste that they got compliments on every assignment, so I ended up asking them to weigh in on my work.
They dressed well, so I let them decide what I should buy and wear.
They had strong opinions, so I always asked them, because they would give me the best choice.
I felt relieved.
I remember one assignment where we had to redesign a book cover. I couldn’t decide whether the title should go on the right or the left, or where to put the image. I asked my ex about every step I couldn’t decide on my own, and even though they were annoyed by the interruptions, they answered all of it. I got a good grade. I even got compliments. Before that, I had always been told I should rethink my major, because my teachers didn’t think I had any talent for design. I got a taste of success, and after that I leaned on them every time.
I couldn’t resist the pull — the pull of someone who had all the traits I wanted, and who could make a “good” choice for me. It was a comfortable choice. Maybe not a good one. Once I can outsource them, I never need to grow them myself. And it gets harder to leave the longer someone stays. Because leaving means facing that my hands are empty.
The comfort turned into something else. I noticed I couldn’t decide anything when they weren’t with me. I’d buy clothes I liked, and then be too afraid to wear them. It’ll look bad on me. I don’t have good taste. Maybe I should return it. I felt stuck in mud, unable to move. I hated myself in those moments. Why can’t I decide anything on my own?
I did a lot of things to try to collect the pieces of myself — exercise, learning new languages, anything to find what I liked. I was scared, but I made every decision on my own. I tried all these new things, and I still felt lost. I did it all by myself. And then what?
Then I started working as an influencer. I had to log every meal I ate and take thousands of photos of myself. It was my job, so my ex couldn’t do it for me. I had to face my own photos. It may seem like a small thing, but it was a big step for me. I’ve always thought I look ugly and have no taste, and now I was forced to look at all of it.
I looked at the girl in the photo and imagined she was another girl. How did she look? Oh, she looks good in red. Those shoes work with that outfit. As I looked at myself from the outside, I started to have opinions.
Now I finally know that I like red, and I know what movies I like. The answer was always in my hands. It just took me a long time to dare to look.
I broke up with them not because they were a bad person, but because I hated who I was when I was with them. And by then, I couldn’t find them attractive anymore. In the beginning, I was drawn to the qualities I didn’t have and wanted. Now, when I meet someone with those same qualities, I still admire that — I just don’t fall in without thinking anymore.
When you think about the things you like, what comes to mind? Not your partner’s. Yours.