Growing Up Trying Not to Disappoint My Mum – and How I Lost My Marriage Without Realising It My Mother Always Knew Best. Or So It Seemed. From Childhood, I Learnt to Read Her Moods by Her Voice, The Way She Closed Doors, the Silence. If She Was Pleased, All Was Well. If Not… I Must Have Done Something Wrong. “I Don’t Ask Much,” She’d Say. “Just Don’t Let Me Down.” That “Just” Weighed More Than Any Rule. When I Married, I Thought My Life Was Finally My Own. My Husband Was Calm and Patient, Avoided Arguments. At First, Mum Approved. Then She Had Opinions on Everything. “Why Do You Come Home So Late?” “Don’t You Think You’re Overworking?” “He Doesn’t Help You Enough.” At First I Laughed and Told My Husband She Was Just Worried. Then I Started Explaining Her, Then Trying to Please Her. Without Realising, I Started Living by Two Voices. My Husband’s—Gentle, Caring, Wanting Closeness— And My Mother’s—Always Certain, Always Demanding. When We Planned a Trip, Mum Would Get Ill. When We Had Plans, She Needed Me. When My Husband Said He Missed Me, I’d Reply, “You Have to Understand, I Can’t Just Leave Her.” And He Did—For a Long Time. Until One Night He Said Something That Shocked Me More Than Any Argument: “I Feel Like I’m the Third Person in This Marriage.” I Snapped Back, Defended Mum, Defended Myself— Told Him He Was Overreacting, It Wasn’t Fair to Make Me Choose. But the Truth Was, I Had Already Chosen. I Just Hadn’t Admitted It. We Stopped Talking. Slept Back to Back. Chatted About Chores, Not Us. And When We Fought, Mum Always Knew. “I Told You,” She’d Say. “Men Are Like That.” And I’d Believe Her—Out of Habit. Until One Day I Came Home and He Was Gone. No Drama—He Left His Keys and a Note: “I Love You, But I Don’t Know How To Live With Your Mother Between Us.” I Sat on the Bed, Not Knowing Who to Call—Mum or Him. I Chose Mum. “Well, What Did You Expect?” She Said. “I Told You…” Something Broke in Me Then. I Realised I’d Spent My Life Afraid to Disappoint One Person… And Lost Another Who Only Wanted Me By His Side. I Don’t Blame Mum Entirely—She Loved Me In Her Way— But I Didn’t Set Boundaries. I Mixed Duty With Love. Now I’m Learning What I Should Have Known Sooner: Being Someone’s Child Doesn’t Mean You Stay Small Forever. And A Marriage Can’t Survive When There’s a Third Voice. Have You Ever Had to Choose Between Not Disappointing a Parent… And Saving Your Family?

I grew up doing my absolute best not to disappoint my mumwhich, quite unintentionally, led to the slow and subtle unravelling of my marriage.

My mum always seemed to know what was right.
Or so it appeared.
As a child, I became a master at reading her moods: the tone in her voice, the way she shut the door, the particular quality of her silence. If she was happy, the house felt safe. If she wasnt well, obviously, Id messed up.

I dont ask for much, shed say, Just dont let me down.
That just weighed heavier than any rule or punishment.

When I finally grew up and got married, I naively thought my life was, at last, my own. My husband was an easy-going, patient soul. The last person to start a row. At first, my mum approved of him. Then, gradually, she began to develop her own strong opinions.

Whys he so late all the time?
Dont you think youre working a bit much?
He never helps you enough, does he?

The first few times, I laughed it off. I told my husband not to mind, that she was simply worried. Then I started defending my choices to her. Eventually, I began to adjust my behaviour to keep her content.

Without even realising, I ended up living with two voices in my head.
One belonged to my husbandgentle, sensible, wanting closeness.
The other? My mumsalways certain, always slightly critical.

When my husband suggested we escape for a weekend, my mum would suddenly fall ill.
If we made plans, she inevitably needed me for something.
If my husband told me he missed me, Id reply:
Oh, you have to understand, I just cant leave her.

And, in fairness, he did understandfor a rather long time.

Until, one evening, he said something that shook me more than any blazing row:
I feel like Im the third wheel in this marriage.

I snapped back at him. Defended her. Defended myself. I told him he was exaggerating. That he was being unfair for making me choose.

But the truth was, Id already made a choice. I just hadnt owned up to it.

We started to live between silences. Sleeping with our backs turned. Talking only about who needed milk or whether the bins were out, not about us. And when we argued, my mum always seemed to know immediately.

I told you so, shed say. Mentheyre all the same.
And, out of habit, I believed her.

Until one evening, I came home and he was gone.

No dramatic exit. Just his keys on the table and a note:

I love you, but I cant live with your mother between us.

I sat on the bed, and for the first time, I genuinely didnt know who I wished to reach formy mum or him.

I called my mum.
Well, what did you expect? she said. I always warned you

And thats when something in me snapped.

I realised Id spent my whole life terrified of disappointing one person and in the process, Id lost another, who simply wanted to spend his life with me.

I dont entirely blame my mum. She loved me in the only way she knew.
But it was meI was the one whod never drawn a line.
The one whod mixed up duty with love.

Now, Im learning a lesson I shouldve sussed out long ago:
Just because youre someones child, doesnt mean you have to stay a child forever.
And marriage doesnt survive if theres a third voice running the show.

Tell me, have you ever had to choose between not disappointing your parents and holding on to your own family?