When Happiness is Absent: He Belittled Me, and I Endured for Our Children
A Life Trapped with No Escape
For years, I kept this pain locked inside. I believed my story didn’t matter, that others had it worse. But today, I finally want to say it out loud – I am unhappy and have been my whole life.
Thirty years ago, I married Richard. It wasn’t love; it was because my parents said, “It’s the sensible thing to do.” They assured me he was dependable and wouldn’t let me fall. So, I obeyed.
Back then, I thought love wasn’t crucial. What mattered, I believed, was stability.
How wrong I was.
Humiliation as a Daily Routine
Even in our youth, Richard didn’t hesitate to humiliate me in front of others.
“She can’t even boil an egg!” he’d laugh at the table with his friends roaring in laughter.
“In bed, she’s as useful as a log,” he’d joke in company, ignoring that I sat there, eyes cast down in shame.
I said nothing. I endured.
I tried proving myself worthy of his love. I’d cook meals, strive to be tender and caring. But every time I was met with coldness and disdain.
Then, our children were born.
I told myself: for them, I’ll endure everything.
Living Under the Same Roof, Worlds Apart
As our sons grew up and moved away, Richard didn’t even try to hide that he no longer needed me.
He converted part of our house into a separate living space for himself. Neighbors and friends thought we were the perfect family – outwardly, nothing had changed. We lived in the same house, shared a kitchen.
Nobody knew we even divided the fridge.
His containers sported large initials “R.J.,” ensuring I wouldn’t accidentally touch his food.
I ate only what I could afford – simple oats, potatoes, sometimes a lentil soup.
I could only be in the kitchen in his absence. It was his “kingdom,” his domain. Mornings and afternoons, I had to eat in my room, and if our paths crossed, his gaze was cold and annoyed.
He would sit at the table, array his expensive meats, cheeses, bottle of whisky, and deliberately start dining without offering me a morsel.
I felt like a ghost in this home.
Apathy Steeped in Hatred
Occasionally, we went grocery shopping together. We bought only what each planned to eat.
We split bills for water, electricity, phone – down to the last penny.
Yet, to everyone else, we remained a “couple.” Even our children, who visited infrequently, had no idea how bad things were.
And I kept enduring.
Endured his heavy stare, his contempt, his cold silence.
But worst were his weekends.
On those days, the house became a battlefield.
“You’re Nothing”
Richard strode around as if he alone owned every corner. If I left something on his part of the table – it erupted into a scandal.
He’d mutter all day, then explode over trivial things.
“You’re a cow!” he would sneer.
“You’re as dull and stupid as a stone on the road!”
I endured for a long time. For years, I bit my tongue and kept silent.
But one day, something broke inside me.
He started yelling again. I don’t even remember why.
I sat across from him, watching his face contorted with rage.
In that moment, I wanted to hurl a vase at him. I wished, even for a second, he could feel the pain I had borne over the years.
But I didn’t.
I just stood up and walked to my room.
I didn’t scream back. I didn’t cry.
Because I knew: he was no one to me anymore.
I’m Afraid, But More Afraid of Continuing This Way
I’m still here. Still under the same roof with this man.
I don’t know if I’ll ever summon the courage to leave.
I’m afraid.
But I fear even more that I’ll die in this house, never knowing true happiness.
I only pray for one thing – that my sons never repeat my fate. That they live with those who love, value, and respect them.
And I…
For now, I just exist.
