When Happiness Vanishes: I Endured Abuse for the Sake of My Children

When Happiness is Out of Reach: He Insulted Me, and I Endured for the Children’s Sake

Living in a Cage I Can’t Escape From
For many years, I kept this pain locked inside. I felt my story was insignificant compared to others who had it worse. But today, I want to finally speak up – I’ve been unhappy. Unhappy my entire life.

Thirty years ago, I married Richard. It wasn’t for love, but because it seemed “right.” My parents said he was reliable and that with him, I wouldn’t be lost. So, I listened.

Back then, I thought love wasn’t the most important thing. Stability was.

How wrong I was.

Humiliation Became Commonplace
In our youth, Richard had no qualms about belittling me in front of others.

“She can’t even boil an egg!” he’d boast to his friends at the table, making them laugh.

“In bed, she’s as useless as a log,” he’d joke among company, ignoring the fact that I sat right there, eyes downcast in shame.

I stayed silent. I endured it.

I was trying to prove to him that I was worthy of love. I cooked dinners, tried to be gentle and caring. But each time, I was met with only coldness and disdain.

Then the children arrived.

And I told myself, for their sake, I’d endure anything.

Living Under One Roof in Separate Worlds
As our sons grew up and moved away, Richard didn’t bother to hide the fact that he no longer needed me.

He added another room to the house where he lived alone. Our neighbors and acquaintances thought we had the perfect family – since outwardly, nothing had changed. We lived in the same house, ate in the same kitchen.

But no one knew that even the refrigerator was divided.

He wrote “R.B.” on his containers in big letters, ensuring I wouldn’t even accidentally touch his food.

I ate what I could afford – plain porridge, potatoes, the occasional lentil soup.

I could only be in the kitchen when he wasn’t there. It was his “kingdom,” his territory. In the morning and afternoon, I had to eat in my room, and if I accidentally crossed his path, I was met with his irritated glare.

He’d sit at the table, laying out expensive sausages, cheese, and a bottle of brandy, and start his dinner, not offering me a single piece.

I felt like a ghost in that house.

Apathy Drenched in Hatred
Sometimes, we went grocery shopping together. Each of us would buy only what we intended to consume ourselves.

We split bills for water, electricity, and the phone – down to the last penny.

To everyone else, we were still a “couple.” Even our children, who now visited rarely, had no idea how bad things were.

And I continued to endure.

I endured his heavy gaze, his scorn, his cold silence.

But weekends were the worst.

On those days, the house turned into a battlefield.

“You Are Nothing and Nobody”
He walked around the house as if he owned every corner. If I accidentally left something in his part of the room – it erupted into a row.

He’d mutter all day, then explode over a trifle.

“You’re a cow!” he’d throw at me.

“You’re as plain and dull as a stone on the road!”

I endured for long. For years, I simply clenched my fists and stayed silent.

But one day, something inside me broke.

He started arguing again. I can’t even recall what for.

I sat across from him watching as he shouted, his face red with anger.

At that moment, I wanted to grab a vase and hurl it at his head. I wanted him to feel, for just a second, the pain I’d experienced all those years.

But I didn’t do it.

I just got up and walked to my room.

I didn’t shout back. I didn’t cry.

Because I knew: this person meant nothing to me anymore.