Seven or eight years ago, my RAH (then just a secret AB) started standing me up to hang out with a cute coworker. I beat down doors, argued, fought, cried, and demanded answers, and was told that she was more interesting than I was, smarter than I was, cuter than I was, and more available than I was.
And what did I do? I *fought* for him!
[insert smilie with insane, maniacal laughter here]
There were sleepless nights, weeks of fighting, I even lost my job during my insane freakout. But I fought for him because I didn't want to be the fat, unattractive, stupid, boring loser that couldn't keep my man. And I won... Er, I "won."
Since the revelation I had about his drinking problem, and especially since I really started working on myself, I have looked back on that moment hundreds of times. I should have left him then. But I didn't. And I should have left him a hundred times after that. And I haven't. And why I'm still here, hating him for all the terrible things he did and said, and hating myself for making myself smaller to stay in the relationship, is one for my therapist.
But in retrospect, that's the time I realize I lost myself.