The Subtle Slide of Self-Abandonment

How we abandon our true

The Subtle Slide of Self-Abandonment

How we abandon our true

In high-performance cultures and high-stakes roles, self-abandonment rarely looks dramatic. It looks like competence. Collaboration. Control.

But beneath the performance, a quiet flicker often stirs – the signal that you’ve outgrown the version of you that made it all work.  We find ourselves in moments when we look around at our life – the roles we hold, the responsibilities we carry – and quietly wonder, when did I start leaving myself behind?

This newsletter explores the subtle, often well-intentioned ways we begin to abandon our own knowing, and what it takes to return to our true.

Read here

So how are you, really?
If you’ve been feeling a quiet restlessness lately… you’re not alone.
Not the kind that screams. The kind that simmers. That lingers.
That asks, “Who am I, really? Is this still me?”

In high-responsibility roles – leadership, parenting, caregiving – we get good at holding it all. Making it all work.  But sometimes, in the process, we stop noticing what we need.

We don’t mean to lose ourselves.
But many of us do – slowly, quietly, over time.

Not in dramatic acts of disowning, but in the subtle decisions we make every day:
– A preference swallowed to keep the peace.
– A truth softened to avoid discomfort.
– A boundary blurred to be perceived as ‘easy to work with’ or ‘a team player.’

What begins as adaptability becomes erasure.
And over time, we drift so far from our centre that it becomes hard to locate what we really feel, think, or need.

This isn’t weakness. It’s socialisation.

Developmental psychology and social learning theory show us that from a young age, we’re shaped by external reinforcement. We learn that connection often comes with conditions, especially in high-demand environments. Being accommodating is rewarded. Being too much, too complex, too inconvenient… is not. So, we adjust.

We become highly attuned to the needs and expectations of others. And in the process, we learn to abandon parts of ourselves; not out of deceit, but out of a desire to belong.
This kind of self-abandonment often feels like competence.
We become reliable. Capable. Perceptive.
But beneath the smooth surface of performance, something starts to flicker.

Fatigue that doesn’t resolve with rest.
Irritability that feels out of character.
A vague sense of misalignment, even when things look “fine” on the outside.

So if you’re feeling restless right now, you’re not broken.
You might just be overdue for a return.
What’s flickering is your essence, asking to be noticed. It’s the signal that you’ve quietly outgrown the version of yourself who made it all work.

Neuropsychologist Lisa Miller cautions us against the trap of “achieving awareness” –
the narrow focus on outcomes that disconnects us from the broader meaning of our lives. 
And as I explore in The Leader’s Ecosystem, True You isn’t found in roles or titles, but in the energetic hum of alignment; when your body, heart, mind and soul resonate as one.

And this is where accountability becomes so much more than an organisational principle,
it becomes a personal practice of return.

Done right, accountability isn’t about blame or compliance. It’s about integrity – the act of honouring what matters, not just externally, but internally: your values, your limits, your longings.

As a growing body of philosophy, psychology, and ancient wisdom reminds us, transformation doesn’t begin with strategy, it begins with self-awareness. From Eastern traditions that speak of the quiet knowing behind the noise, to modern neuroscience showing that our deepest truths live in the body long before the brain can explain them, the path of meaningful change starts within.

This is about remembering who you were, before the world told you who to be.
To recognise and reclaim the parts of ourselves we’ve sidelined to survive.

That’s not easy work.
It asks us to sit with discomfort.
To challenge the stories we’ve internalised.
To reset boundaries we’ve long ignored.

And it asks us to do it without making anyone the villain – including ourselves.

So if you’re feeling The Flicker, know this:
The self who shaped themselves around others was wise.
They kept you safe. They got you here.

But you’re allowed to meet yourself anew – with more voice, more clarity, more agency.
And you’re allowed to ask:
“What part of myself have I been managing, diluting, or ignoring?  How might I gently bring it back into full presence?”

Not as a performance.
Not as a reaction.
But as a deeply human return to wholeness.

Because the version of you that no longer fits isn’t failing, they’re evolving.
And the next version?
They’re built on clarity, truth and love, rather than compliance and compromise.

You don’t have to become someone new.
You’re simply returning to someone true.

If this resonated, The Flicker is a gentle resource that offers space to notice what’s stirring in you. No hype, no pressure – just honest provocations, gently held.

And if you’re ready to stop shape-shifting and start leading from your whole self, I’d love to support you.  Drop me a note and we can begin the conversation.

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