When Happiness Is Absent: Enduring Abuse for the Sake of the Children

When Happiness Is Absent: He Belittled Me, and I Endured for the Children

Living in a Cage with No Escape
For many years, I held this pain inside. I thought my story wasn’t that significant, that others had it worse. But today, I want to finally admit – I am unhappy. I’ve been unhappy my whole life.

Thirty years ago, I married Victor. Not for love, but because it seemed the “right” thing to do. My parents insisted he was dependable, that I’d be secure with him. I listened.

Back then, it seemed love was not the most important thing. What mattered was stability.

How wrong I was.

Humiliation Became Normal
Even in our youth, Victor wasn’t shy about belittling me in front of others.

“She can’t even boil an egg!” he’d declare to his friends at the table, and they would all laugh.

“In bed, she’s as useful as a log,” he’d joke in company, ignoring the shame that made me lower my eyes.

I stayed silent. I endured.

I tried to prove I was worthy of love. I cooked dinners, endeavored to be gentle and caring. But every time, I was met with only coldness and derision.

Then the children were born.

I told myself then: I will endure anything for their sake.

Under One Roof, Yet Worlds Apart
When our sons grew up and moved away, Victor didn’t even bother to hide that he no longer needed me.

He built himself a separate room onto the house, where he now lived alone. Neighbors and acquaintances thought we were the perfect family – on the surface, nothing seemed to have changed. We lived in the same house and shared the same kitchen.

But no one knew that even our fridge was divided.

On his containers, he wrote “V.V.” in big letters, so I wouldn’t accidentally touch his food.

I ate what I could afford – simple porridge, potatoes, occasionally a bean soup.

I could only be in the kitchen when he wasn’t there. It was his “kingdom,” his territory. In the mornings and afternoons, I had to eat in my room, and if I crossed paths with him by chance, I’d be met with an irritated glare.

He’d sit at the table, lay out expensive sausages, cheese, a bottle of whiskey, and deliberately start dining, never offering me a piece.

I felt like a ghost in that house.

Indifference Soaked with Hatred
Sometimes we went shopping together. Yet each bought only what they intended to consume themselves.

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

But to the outside world, we were still a “couple.” Even the children, who now seldom visited, didn’t suspect how bad things were.

And I continued to endure.

Endured his heavy gaze, his scorn, his cold silence.

But the worst were his weekends.

Those days, the house turned into a battlefield.

“You’re Nobody and Nothing”
He roamed the house as if every corner belonged solely to him. If I accidentally left something on his side of the table, an argument would erupt.

He could grumble all day and then explode over a trivial matter.

“You’re a cow!” he’d spit in my face.

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

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

But one day, something inside me broke.

He started yelling again. I don’t even remember what it was about.

I sat across from him, watching him rage, his face red with anger.

In that moment, I wanted to grab a vase and throw it at him. I wished he’d feel, even for a second, the pain I’d felt all these years.

But I didn’t do it.

I simply stood 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.