Why Self-Abandonment Is So Hard to Stop

Why You Keep Doing It – Even Though You Wish You Could Stop

You’re the one who holds it all:

You’re the one who makes sure that all the birthdays, Christmases, and other special occasions are magical.

You’re the emotional buffer in awkward and uncomfortable situations so other people don’t have to feel weird, angry, or disappointed.

You automatically take the emotional temperature of every room you walk into so you can deal with whatever it is you’re coming up against.

You make things easier for everyone. Even when it costs you.

And you know it does cost you. You feel it in your body. In your silence. In the way you nod along in conversations that should include your thoughts, opinions, and needs.

You recognize it now. You’ve named it: Self-abandonment.

And still – in the moment – you can’t seem to stop.

You set an intention to speak up, then swallow your words.
You promise you’ll rest, then push through anyway.
You swear you’re done with unbalanced relationships –
then talk yourself into believing this one might be different.

You’re not clueless. You’ve read the books. Done the work. Reasoned. Reflected. Recommitted. You know what’s happening.

So why does it keep happening?

Why do you keep abandoning yourself – when you wish more than anything you could stop?

That question alone feels heavy.

Because the only answer you’ve ever come up with is some version of:

“There must be something wrong with me.”
“I just need to try harder”
“Maybe I just can’t change?”

But here’s a truth that hasn’t quite landed, hit your heart yet:

This isn’t about willpower. It’s not about discipline. And it’s definitely not about knowing better.

You’re still self-abandoning because your nervous system believes it’s the only way to stay safe.

Self-Abandonment is a trauma response. Specifically, a “fawning” trauma response.

Now, you may jump to “I don’t have ‘trauma’, my life wasn’t that bad” or “I’ve already worked through the trauma. I should be over this by now.”

But fawning isn’t just about what happened to you. It’s about how you learned to adapt in order to stay connected – especially when connection felt fragile, conditional, or unsafe.

Fawning is what your nervous system learned to do to protect you from rupture. It’s the instinct to appease, soothe, or over-function to avoid conflict, rejection, or withdrawal. It’s not a mindset. It’s not a personality trait.

It’s a physiological response to relational threat.

And here’s what makes it so hard to spot: It often looks like care, kindness, empathy, or being “the strong one.” You become the person who can handle anything. The one who doesn’t need much. The one who stays calm, generous, reasonable – even when your insides are screaming.

Not because you’re fake.
Not because you’re a doormat.
But because your body still associates belonging with abandoning yourself first.

Why self-sbandonment is so damn hard to see in real time.

When self-abandonment is how you’ve always survived, it stops looking like survival. It just becomes who you are. Your generosity, your flexibility, your ability to smooth things over – they look like strengths. And in many ways, they are.

But underneath them is a truth most people never say out loud:

You’re terrified of making someone mad.

Not because you’re fragile. But because somewhere along the line, anger meant disconnection. Anger meant withdrawal. Cold silence. The withholding of affection, care, love.

You learned – whether through words or just the way things went – that people can love you one minute and be indifferent or uncaring toward you the next.

You learned that love has conditions.
That it’s something you can lose if you say the wrong thing.
That being liked is the safest substitute for being loved.

And when that’s the water you’ve been swimming in since childhood, of course you don’t recognize the pattern as something to change.

You’ve just been trying to keep the people you love close enough to feel safe. Even if it means abandoning yourself in the process.

Why the term “Self-Abandonment” can feel like a slap.

When you first heard the term, something in you probably lit up. It gave a name to a pattern you’ve lived for years – but never quite had words for. Finally, you could see it: The ways you override your needs. The way you shrink to fit. The way you disappear – not all at once, but situation by situation.

But at the same time… it probably stung. Because “self-abandonment” sounds like something you chose to do. Like you walked away from yourself. Like it’s your fault.

And that’s where the shame creeps in.

If I’m the one abandoning myself, why can’t I stop?
Why do I keep doing this?
What’s wrong with me that I keep betraying myself?

But here’s what most people don’t understand: You didn’t choose to self-abandon.

You adapted.

This pattern came online before you had language. While your brain was in the ongoing process of developing. Before you had boundaries or even an inkling of what a boundary even was.

You weren’t choosing or deciding. You were surviving.

That version of you wasn’t weak or broken. She was smart. She found a way to stay connected in a world that didn’t make space for all of who she was. She did what she had to do.

And she kept doing it – because the people around her never showed her another way.

Compassion ≠ Complacency

Let’s be clear about one thing: Just because it’s not your fault doesn’t mean you have to stay here.

Self-abandonment might have been adaptive – but it’s also exhausting. It leaves you questioning your worth. Overriding your instincts. Second-guessing your voice. Sitting in relationships that don’t nourish you because you’re afraid to need more.

And while your nervous system may still be running the old program – you’re not that little girl anymore. You have new tools. You have language. You have choice.

But – and this is important – you don’t shift a lifelong survival pattern by shaming yourself into submission.

You don’t fix self-abandonment by becoming “better” at boundaries, or finally sticking to your morning routine, or never falling into old habits again.

You heal by noticing – without judgment. By meeting the part of you that learned to disappear with compassion, not correction.

And by practicing a new truth:
You’re allowed to need. You’re allowed to want. You’re allowed to take up space.

That’s what rewilding really is.

Not burning everything down.
Not becoming harder or more demanding.
But becoming whole.

What you can do next to interrupt the pattern.

You don’t need another reminder to “speak up” or “set boundaries.” You need something deeper – something that meets you where you are, and helps you understand why it’s been so hard to stop abandoning yourself, even now.

That’s why I created this guide.

It’s called Reclaim Yourself – and it’s not about fixing you. It’s about showing you the one thing that’s been keeping this pattern alive, and what can shift when you finally stop blaming yourself for doing what you had to do to survive.

Download the free guide below and start reconnecting with the part of you that’s been waiting to come home.