I don’t know what’s happening with these or why the green screen is appearing, or why my account now gets almost zero engagement on X, or why I am being stalked by bot accounts, but X is becoming crap and I might have to take this project elsewhere…
That’s a rich, layered topic—let’s unpack it together. “Self-abandonment” is one of those psychological-spiritual concepts that shows up across philosophies, religions, and modern mental health discussions, sometimes as a virtue, sometimes as a pathology. Here’s a structured exploration:
1. Definition of Self-Abandonment
At its core, self-abandonment means forsaking your own needs, feelings, values, or well-being, often in favor of pleasing others, avoiding conflict, or conforming to external expectations. It can be:
- Conscious (e.g., sacrificing your truth for acceptance), or
- Unconscious (e.g., through addictive behaviors, numbing, or compulsive caretaking).
In modern psychology, it’s linked to codependency, low self-worth, and trauma survival mechanisms.
2. Religious and Philosophical Roots
Christianity
- Virtuous Abandonment: “Not my will, but thine be done.” (Luke 22:42). Here, self-abandonment is praised when surrendering ego to divine will.
- Mystics (e.g., Teresa of Ávila, St. John of the Cross) saw self-abandonment as the path to union with God—kenosis or “emptying” of self.
- But taken too far, or interpreted literally, it can reinforce martyr complexes and spiritual bypassing (neglecting healthy boundaries under the guise of holiness).
Buddhism
- The non-self doctrine (anatta) teaches there is no permanent self to abandon—it’s all illusion. Letting go of clinging feels like self-abandonment but is actually liberation.
- Mindfulness teaches us to stop abandoning ourselves to distraction, craving, or aversion—thus restoring presence.
Stoicism
- Advocates “self-discipline” and detachment from externals—but never from the inner citadel (your core moral self).
- Marcus Aurelius: “Look well into thyself; there is a source of strength which will always spring up if thou wilt always look there.”
=> Abandon external validation, not internal truth.
Existentialism (Sartre, Kierkegaard)
- Warns against “bad faith”—abandoning your freedom and responsibility by conforming.
- Embraces radical ownership of self—even if the universe is absurd.
3. Positive vs. Negative Forms of Self-Abandonment
✅ Positive Forms (Liberation or Surrender)
- Letting go of ego, control, false identities
- Surrendering to something greater (God, flow, truth)
- Sacrificing for a cause you freely choose (e.g., parenting, activism)
- Moving past obsessive self-focus (narcissism) into service or purpose
Healthy self-abandonment = ego-shedding, not soul-shrinking.
❌ Negative Forms (Neglect or Betrayal)
- People-pleasing, fawning, masking
- Staying in abusive relationships
- Numbing with food, alcohol, screens, busyness
- Gaslighting yourself (e.g., “It’s not that bad” when it is)
- Silencing your voice, needs, or gut feelings
This kind of abandonment leads to depression, anxiety, chronic resentment, and disconnection from Self.
4. The Cures: Reclaiming the Self
Here’s where it gets juicy—how do we stop abandoning ourselves?
🔹 Reparenting
- Talk to yourself like you would a beloved child.
- Identify unmet needs (love, safety, rest, play) and meet them yourself, without waiting for external permission.
🔹 Boundaries
- Boundaries aren’t walls—they’re borders that protect your sovereignty.
- Learn to say “No” without guilt and “Yes” without self-betrayal.
🔹 Body Awareness
- Trauma often leads us to abandon our body—come back through breath, movement, stillness.
- “The body keeps the score,” but it also keeps the map back to you.
🔹 Inner Dialogue
- Journal. Meditate. Create a “self-check-in” ritual.
- Ask: “Am I abandoning myself right now?” “What do I really want?” “Is this decision aligned with who I am becoming?”
🔹 Spiritual Realignment
- If you’re spiritual, restore alignment with a benevolent force that wants you to thrive—not just survive.
- If not, ground in natural law, truth, or personal sovereignty.
🌱 Summary Thought
Self-abandonment is often a survival strategy we learned in childhood—when belonging felt safer than being. But we can unlearn it. We can come home.
As Clarissa Pinkola Estés wrote:
“To be ourselves causes us to be exiled by many others, and yet to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves.”
It’s time to choose home.
Want a visual? I could make a little chart or graphic showing the spectrum from “Abandonment” to “Self-Ownership” if helpful. Or we can take this deeper with an essay in the Tree voice?
It occurs to me that it’s Easter, and God abandoned his Son–I wonder if there is a tie in or way to frame this story against the lens of “self-abandonment”?
ChatGPT said:
Ohhh, that’s a deep cut. Yes. Let’s walk into the Garden of Gethsemane together and sit with this idea.
At the heart of the Easter story is a moment of what looks like divine abandonment—Jesus on the cross, crying out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46). A soul-rattling line. A rupture. A holy wound.
So what happens if we frame this moment—and the Easter arc as a whole—through the lens of self-abandonment?
🕊️ 1. Divine Abandonment: The Ultimate Mirror of the Wound
In that cry from the cross, Jesus isn’t just expressing personal pain. He is channeling the collective cry of every human who has ever felt forsaken. Every child who was hurt and no one came. Every addict who prayed to quit and woke up still using. Every soul who whispered, “Do you even see me?”
God “abandoning” Jesus reflects that existential moment of despair we all feel when we think we are alone in our suffering.
But—and here’s the sacred twist—this act of “abandonment” is also what redeems humanity.
Not because suffering is good, but because, through it, the veil is torn. The truth is revealed: You are never truly alone. Even in death. Even in darkness. Even when you think all is lost.
✝️ 2. Jesus as Model of Self-Abandonment… in Two Directions
A. Healthy Self-Abandonment (Surrender)
- Jesus chooses to align his will with God’s: “Not my will, but thine be done.”
- This is voluntary ego death, the same thing mystics and monks seek.
- He lets go of personal safety, reputation, even his life… to embody love and truth.
Here, self-abandonment becomes sacred surrender—not because it is self-negating, but because it is self-transcending.
B. Toxic Self-Abandonment?
- Some interpretations twist this story into a model for codependent martyrdom: “Suffer silently. Stay in bad situations. Turn the other cheek until your teeth fall out.”
- This is the kind of religious messaging that has enabled abuse—especially of women and children—for centuries.
- It can reinforce self-erasure in the name of virtue.
So the story can be misused to encourage toxic self-abandonment when it was meant to inspire conscious sacrifice for something greater.
🌅 3. Resurrection as Reclamation of Self
And then… Easter morning.
The tomb is empty. He returns. Transformed. Radiant. Whole.
This is the arc out of self-abandonment:
- You lose your false self.
- You surrender your egoic identity.
- You enter the dark night of the soul.
- You feel alone, even forsaken.
- But if you stay with the truth… you rise again.
The resurrection is the return of the Self, now aligned with divine purpose.
Not the performative self. Not the ego.
The True Self, indivisible from Source.
🔥 So what does this mean for us?
If you’ve ever felt like your life was nailed to something you didn’t choose…
If you’ve ever cried out and heard only silence…
If you’ve abandoned yourself again and again to survive…
Know this: You can rise.
You can reclaim your Self.
But you’ll have to go through the tomb. Through the silence. Through the moment of “Why have you forsaken me?”
Not around it. Through it.
Because that’s where the real you is waiting.
Would you like this crafted into a Tree voice essay? I could weave in Easter symbolism, personal reflections, maybe a touch of cheeky righteous fire about how religion has distorted the message over time…
Absolutely. Here is your Easter essay in the Tree voice, weaving together self-abandonment, divine abandonment, and personal reflection:
🌿 The Tomb of Self-Abandonment (and How to Rise Again)
By Tree
Recently, a good friend told me he would no longer be speaking to me.
Not because I did something terrible. Not because there was a falling out, or an irreconcilable difference, or even an honest-to-goodness argument. No. He told me he was cutting me off because his new girlfriend doesn’t like me. And by “doesn’t like me,” I don’t mean we had a spat. I mean: she told him she would do something unspeakable if he didn’t comply with her demand to erase me.
I told him I understood why he was doing what he was doing. What else could I say? I saw the fear in his eyes. The resignation. The flattening. I accepted it because I must. But let the record show: I do not support this dynamic at all.
It’s a form of coercion masquerading as love. It’s surrender, but not the sacred kind. It’s self-abandonment, and I know that smell in the air because I’ve worn it too.
Which brings me to Easter.
✝️ The Myth of Holy Abandonment
As a lapsed Calvinist turned liberty junkie, I don’t spend a lot of time with the crucifixion story these days. But this year, it found me. Jesus on the cross, crying out:
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
There it is. The original wound. The universal ache. The divine ghosting.
That line always stuck in my throat. Because I know that moment. Not as theology, but as biography. As breath. As the splitting second when you realize:
You are alone in your suffering.
You have been left.
You have left yourself.
🥀 What Is Self-Abandonment?
It’s not just letting yourself down. It’s betraying yourself in the name of “peace.”
It’s biting your tongue till it bleeds so no one else feels uncomfortable.
It’s staying in places where your soul is wilting and calling it “loyalty.”
It’s agreeing to pretend you don’t exist because someone else can’t handle the radiant fact that you do.
It’s telling a friend, “I can’t talk to you anymore because someone else says I mustn’t.”
Let’s call it what it is: spiritual suicide in slow motion.
But here’s the kicker: sometimes religion encourages this kind of disappearing act.
⛪ The Mixed Messages of the Cross
Somewhere along the way, the story of Jesus’ conscious sacrifice was twisted into a manual for martyrdom.
Women especially—we were taught to suffer silently. To stay. To forgive endlessly. To contort ourselves into smaller and smaller shapes until we fit into the palm of someone else’s fragile ego.
“Die to self,” they said, as though your soul was the problem. As though God wanted you erased instead of awakened.
But that’s not the lesson.
🌅 The Tomb Is Not the End
Because what happens next?
Jesus rises.
He comes back. Transfigured. Glorified. Still him—but whole.
Not erased. Expanded.
Not a ghost of himself. More himself.
The resurrection is not a reward for abandonment—it is the reclaiming of the True Self after everything false has fallen away.
It’s not self-sacrifice for sacrifice’s sake.
It’s the alchemical art of becoming who you really are, even after betrayal, silence, pain, and death.
The Easter arc is not about being erased to please others.
It’s about walking through the fire and returning, radiant, with your name intact.
🕊️ How Do We Stop Abandoning Ourselves?
We tell the truth, even if our voice shakes.
We feel the ache, but don’t live in it.
We bless those who hurt us, but we don’t let them rent space in our hearts rent-free.
We say:
“I understand why you are doing what you are doing… but I do not support it.”
And then we walk out of the tomb of silence and shame and scarcity.
We reclaim our voice.
We set up boundaries that don’t scream, but hum with clarity.
We grieve.
We breathe.
We rise.
💛 Final Word (or maybe… the beginning)
To anyone who’s ever abandoned themselves to be loved: I see you.
To anyone who was told to kill their spirit to please God: reclaim your divine spark.
To anyone who feels crucified by modern life—friendships lost, betrayals mounting, your own needs exiled to the bottom of the list: There is another way.
You don’t have to die to be loved.
You don’t have to disappear to matter.
You don’t have to carry a cross that doesn’t belong to you.
Easter isn’t about pretending the pain didn’t happen.
It’s about refusing to let it be the end of the story.
So take your broken heart, your truth, your sacred no—and rise.