Part 2: The Ways We Disappear: Signs of Self-Erasure in Marriage

Upon hearing the term self-erasure, it does not sound overtly dramatic; because it is often not such in appearance. It is like a silent retreat into the shadows, a gradual dimming of a light that once was. Fitting into a role that serves others is often seen as noble at first, and justified on many grounds. It unfolds in patterns that, when finally fully realized, make you wonder how long you’ve been gone; as if your true self is now a distant acquaintance.

We spoke in Part One on the Quranic truth that our servitude to Allah is what enables us to serve one another without injustice, and that marriage was never meant to demand the loss of self, but to teach the art of giving from wholeness. Let us learn to more practically recognize signs of self-erasure before and after marriage, from the most subtle to the most alarming, signs will tell the story.

Before the Marriage

Before a marriage ever happens, signs that self-erasure could occur are most certainly present. Cultures or spouses that carry an unspoken, inherited script of who a “good spouse” is—typically one who fits into a role that requires self-sacrifice—rarely need to say it out loud; you feel it in the ease with which they expect of others, so that only the parts that benefit them are lauded. They notice your service, not your soul; your compliance, not your devotion. When the praise is targeted only at what keeps their life running smoothly, you will unconsciously starve the parts of you that don’t “fit.” You learned to do that from an early age, when caregivers withdrew love if conditions weren’t met.

Others will state it explicitly: “this is what a woman should do,” “this is how a man should provide,” and then frame it as a religious duty to which they are entitled. Sure, parts of it are religious, but religion was never meant to coerce anyone; it was meant as a mercy, with a foundation built on love and reciprocity.

The Prophet (pbuh&hp) served his household, and the Ahlulbayt (p) embodied utmost tenderness and mercy at home. The Prophet’s eyes teared up when he saw his daughter working tediously in her home, and she responded with gratitude to Allah, because it was always for Him.¹ Imam Ali (p) swept floors, cared for his children, prepared food with his wife, and never expected or forced her to do anything. Lady Fatima (p) cared for her family impeccably, not because she was expected to, but because it is natural to want to serve those who truly acknowledge our worth and efforts, who feel for our sacrifices, who meet us with their own abundant giving, all for the sake of God. That creates balance and growth, not depletion and erasure. 

So look in between the lines, not only for what a potential spouse values in you, but for what they value in themselves. A person might see themselves mainly as a “provider,” and while provision is a duty, provision without spiritual presence still starves a partner. When providing becomes identity, when it is not for God, but for ego, money turns into an instrument: “I’ll pay for it,” with the undertone of “I am doing you a favor; I have decided it is enough. Repay me with appreciation, silent obedience, and staying in a role that keeps me comfortable.”

Financial dominance often masquerades as generosity. Meanwhile, the provider disappears into the grind and expects the other to disappear into the home, and because the arrangement is unsaid, you feel almost silly for mentioning the imbalance.

So ask your potential partner, before marriage and without apology, what balance looks like to them, what the purpose of life and partnership is beyond “logistics”. Look for what they say about empowerment, mercy, friendship, or presence; pay attention. If they glaze over when you speak about what gives you joy, pay attention. If your intuition hesitates, take precaution and ask why internally. Ask yourself out of love and curiosity, not fear based judgement.

Inside the Marriage

Inside marriage, the signs become more obvious. You were taught that “It’s normal to change for someone you love”. You begin by saying ‘yes’ to small things because it’s easier; you realize you also end up saying ‘yes’ to bigger things. You stop doing things for yourself in fear of inconveniencing your partner. You start negotiating with yourself—”maybe I’m selfish.” You defer decisions out of habit, shrink anger into silence, disguise sadness as fatigue, and postpone passion into a “maybe later.”

In some cases, where emotional or other forms of abuse are present, control could be covert or overt: questions about where you’re going, why you’re going, and whether this choice is appropriate, and the energy shifts within you from partner to parent. It is often indirect: a tone, a sigh, a well-timed silence that makes your joy feel like a burden. They may “allow” you to go, even fund it, but the favor arrives bound to the expectation of obedience later.

But the deepest wound of erasure is the absence of mirroring and attunement. Mature and present love reflects you back to yourself: I see your tired eyes; have you eaten well today? I hear the small crack in your voice; I remember what makes you alive, for that’s what I fell in love with initially. A conscious spouse asks how your heart is, not just what you cooked today. They notice your energy, not only how tidy the home is. They urge you toward the things that brighten your soul.

And while this erasure more visibly affects women, men too can disappear, just differently. A man may become the wallet, the steady hand, the quiet rock, yet no longer be seen as a soul. He may be made to feel unworthy if he cannot provide enough, silenced when he shows emotion, or in abusive dynamics, also emotionally controlled by a partner who chooses dramatic or manipulative means to get what she wants. He grows tired of the fight, so he learns it’s easier to erase himself too. He may numb through work or distractions, convincing himself that duty is the same as love. He too can lose softness, connection, and the sense of being known. These wounds deserve the same compassion.

There are also signs that live inside you. Your voice hesitates before you speak; your laughter grows rarer and thinner. You measure your day by how well you avoided conflict or pleased your partner and loved ones, not how fully you lived. You start to feel guilty for wanting rest, play, friends, study, solitude—guilty for wanting the very things that keep your heart awake to Allah. You begin editing yourself in advance, birthing a version of you that is efficient, agreeable, but ultimately spiritually exhausted.

This is not an imposed and permanent fate. It is a moment of realization meant to awaken you to a new version of yourself; one that reclaims the self and re-aligns to a servitude that pleases both Allah and the self. Your worth was never in giving at the cost of yourself. Your worth is in Allah swt, and your life is measured in the goodness of your deeds.

Allah says: “Whoever does good, whether male or female, and is a believer, We will surely bless them with a good life, and We will certainly reward them according to the best of their deeds.” 16:97

1 - Safinat al-Bihar (vol. 1, p. 571) and Fatimah al-Zahra by Muhammad Ali Dakhil (p. 65)