We Call It “Adjustment” — But It’s Usually Just One Person Shrinking

In Indian relationships, “adjustment” is treated like a virtue.

A marker of maturity. A sign that you’re reasonable. Proof that you love someone enough to make things work.

And somehow, the people most praised for “adjusting” are almost always women.

We grow up hearing it early.

Adjust a little, beta.

Don’t make a big deal out of it. This is how relationships work. You can’t expect everything your way.

At first, it sounds harmless. Practical, even.

But over time, adjustment stops being about compromise and starts becoming a quiet expectation — one that asks you to give up pieces of yourself without ever naming the cost.

The problem isn’t adjustment itself. Every relationship needs it. The problem is who is expected to adjust, and how often.

In most heterosexual relationships, adjustment doesn’t look like mutual bending. It looks like one person constantly recalibrating their needs to keep the peace.

Usually the woman.

She adjusts her tone so she doesn’t sound “nagging.”She adjusts her expectations so she doesn’t seem demanding. She adjusts her boundaries so she doesn’t appear difficult.

Slowly, subtly, without realising it — she becomes easier to be with by becoming smaller.

Adjustment, when uneven, isn’t compromise. It’s self-erasure disguised as love.

We rarely call it out because it doesn’t happen all at once.

It happens in moments.

When she stops bringing something up because it always turns into an argument. When she learns to sit with disappointment because asking for more feels selfish. When she tells herself “it’s not a big deal” often enough that she almost believes it.

And when frustration finally shows up — when the resentment leaks through — she’s labelled difficult.

Too emotional. Too sensitive. Always complaining.

The irony is painful.

She’s called nagging not because she’s asking for too much, but because she’s been asking for too long.

What makes this worse is how culturally reinforced it is.

Women are taught that love requires endurance. That relationships are about patience. That being understanding is a virtue, even when it costs you peace.

Men, on the other hand, are often taught that emotional discomfort is something to avoid — or outsource.

So the emotional load quietly shifts.

She becomes the one tracking feelings. Starting conversations. Explaining what’s wrong. Explaining why it matters.

Until one day, she’s tired.

Not tired of the person — tired of carrying the relationship on her emotional back.

A relationship shouldn’t require one person to do all the emotional translation.

The saddest part is that many women don’t even realise they’re shrinking.

They think they’re being flexible. Supportive. Low-maintenance.

They mistake silence for strength.

But over time, something changes.

They feel less like themselves. Less expressive. Less sure of what they want.

And when they finally try to reclaim space — when they speak more clearly, ask more directly — it feels disruptive. Because the relationship has been built around their quiet compliance.

This is usually when people say, “You’ve changed.”

What they really mean is:You’re no longer adjusting in ways that make me comfortable.

Healthy adjustment doesn’t leave one person exhausted and the other untouched.

It doesn’t require constant swallowing. It doesn’t punish honesty. It doesn’t reward silence.

Real compromise looks like both people stretching — not one person folding repeatedly.

And love that only works when one person keeps shrinking isn’t love. It’s convenience.

If being in a relationship requires you to consistently dim parts of yourself — your needs, your voice, your discomfort — then the issue isn’t that you’re unwilling to adjust.

It’s that you’ve been adjusting alone.

And that’s not balance. That’s a warning sign.