There are parts of ourselves we don’t lose all at once. They slip quietly and unnoticed over years - a hobby set aside, a belief softened, a boundary blurred, a voice lowered until it barely resembles our own. When I reflect back on my years with my ex husband, I don’t see one moment where I let go of myself. I see a thousand tiny surrenders. None of them dramatic. None of them loud. Just small, daily negotiations with my own truth until the woman I was became unrecognisable