By by Shalon kathure
For the longest time, I thought being low-maintenance was a strength. I wasn’t the kind of girlfriend who asked for much. I didn’t demand affection. I avoided conflict. I tried to be easy to love — or at least, easy to keep.
When things hurt, I’d tell myself it wasn’t worth the argument. When I needed more — more reassurance, more presence, more effort — I’d swallow that need. I thought this made me mature. Understanding. The “good kind” of partner.
But over time, that silence started costing me more than I realized.
I saw it clearly when he started drifting — not emotionally, but literally.
He began asking my friends out. Openly.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was a moment that forced me to confront a painful truth:
I had made myself so invisible in that relationship, he didn’t even see me anymore.
And here’s the part that still stings: I was two months pregnant when it ended.
It wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt.
It was the realization that I had spent so much time trying not to be a burden that I forgot I had a right to exist fully — to be loved with intention, with respect, with presence.
I had convinced myself that staying quiet, staying small, staying “uncomplicated” would somehow protect the relationship.
But it didn’t protect me.
Looking back now, I can admit something that’s hard to say out loud:
I disworthed myself.
I thought shrinking made me more lovable — but all it did was make me easier to overlook.
I’m still healing.
There are days when I wish I had never gotten into relationships at such a young age — when I was still learning who I was, and hadn’t yet learned how to ask for what I needed.
But I also know this:
Every part of me — even the parts I quieted, denied, ignored — deserved to be seen. And I’m learning, slowly, to give those parts a voice again.
Because love shouldn’t cost your sense of self.
And being “low-maintenance” should never mean being loved.
