I Drift Away from My Parents Because of My Wife
I cut ties with my parents, and the reason was my wife.
Im 44 years old and grew up in a family many could only dream of. Loving parentsboth doctors with their own clinics in a quiet town near Oxfordand a brother who was my closest friend from childhood into adulthood. It was a picture of perfect happiness, every day filled with warmth and support. But everything changed when she walked into my lifethe woman who turned my world upside down and, in the end, shattered it.
I met Emily in my first year of university. She was my complete opposite, like night and day. Her childhood had been spent in an orphanage before being adopted at 11. But the happiness didnt lasther adoptive parents divorced, and Emily stayed with her mother, who quickly spiraled into alcoholism. Her bond with her father nearly vanished. Her life had been a struggle, yet she enduredwith iron will and determination to escape her past. After school, she got into university, paying her own way. She worked two jobs, studied late into the night, and graduated with honors. That strength fascinated me.
Our relationship began like a fairy taleuntil I brought her home to meet my parents. Emily, raised in hardship, looked at our comfortable house with barely hidden disdain. At the time, she said nothing, but later, in the heat of an argument, she screamed that we were just privileged snobs living in a fantasy. The words struck me like lightning, but I swallowed my pride, blaming it on her difficult past. We survived that crisis, though a crack had already formed.
Before the wedding, I told her my parents wanted to pay for the celebration. Emily erupted like a storm: “I wont owe them a thing!” Her voice trembled with rage, and I didnt know how to calm her. I secretly spoke to my parents, who, wanting to avoid conflict, quietly transferred the money to me. I never told Emily. The wedding was beautiful, and she proudly believed wed done it all ourselvesproof of our independence. I stayed silent, afraid to shatter her illusion.
When we learned we were expecting a daughter, my parents were overjoyed. One day, they brought tiny baby clotheslittle dresses and shoes. I braced for an explosion, but Emily surprised me with a smile and a thank you. Then, the moment the door closed behind them, she said in an icy tone: “No more handouts from your parents.” I didnt have the heart to tell themtheir joy for their granddaughter was too pure to crush. When they asked what we needed, I lied, saying we had everything.
But the storm came before the birth. My parents arrived unannounced with a brand-new pramexpensive, the very one wed seen in the shop. Emily went pale: “Its an unnecessary luxurytake it back!” One word led to another, and the fight began. She shouted, hurled insults, and I stood frozen, stunned. The visit ended in chaos, which sent Emily into early labor. And who did she blame? My parents. She said it was their fault, that theyd stressed her into it. For the first time, I fought back: “Youre wrongthey did nothing!”
Then she gave me an ultimatumharsh as a judges sentence. Stay with her and our daughter, cutting all ties with my parents and brother, never accepting a single penny from themor divorce, and Id never see my little girl again. My heart split in two, blood pounding in my temples. What could I do? I chose my wife and child, turning my back on the family whod given me everything. I refused my parents love, the inheritance that could have secured our comfort. We moved away, far from the past.
Twelve years without hearing my mothers voice, without hugging my father, without joking with my brother. Im a schoolteacher now, counting pennies at the end of each month. We live modestly, almost poorly, because Emily despises accepting help. I look at her and no longer recognize the girl who once inspired me with her resilience. Now I see only angershe hates the world, blaming everyone because her life isnt like others. What I once loved in her has turned into a slow, corrosive regret.
I think of divorce. The children are older, and I hope theyll understandwhy I cant live like this anymore. I was wrong about Emilycruelly, irreparably wrong. Her pride, which I mistook for strength, was poison, tainting everything. Now I stand in the ruins of my life, asking myself: How could I have been so blind? How could I sacrifice my family for a woman who hates even the shadow of happiness?
