The Gilded Cage: Losing Myself in Marriage
When I was born, my mother named me Emily. She believed the name was cheerful and bright, hoping her daughter would be smiling, happy, and cherished. Little did anyone know that, as years went by, my smile would become rare, and happiness would merely be a façade for others to see.
Everything began the day I met Him. David. Tall, handsome, with a commanding voice and a gaze that made my heart flutter. He was the epitome of an ideal partner, just as I had imagined. I didn’t see how beneath his confident exterior lay a cold control. His charming gestures hid an unyielding will. I simply fell in love—foolishly, with youthful naivety and a wide-open heart.
We married quickly back then. I believed that if a man loved you, he would want to make you his wife as soon as possible. How mistaken I was… He truly wanted to make me “his” in every sense. His. Submissive. Obedient.
Initially, everything seemed wonderful. Restaurants, travels, expensive gifts. Holidays in the mountains in winter, seaside in summer, parties with his friends. On the surface—an idyll. Envy from friends, likes on social media. But inside me—emptiness. For behind all these outward glitters, I was slowly losing myself.
Decisions were made without me. He chose the venues we’d visit, what we’d have for dinner, how we would spend our weekends. But that was only part of it. The main issue was he decided how I should look, what to wear, how to style my hair, and even the tone in which I should speak.
“Darling, that dress is too simple, don’t embarrass me.”
“Why wear jeans again? A woman should be feminine.”
“You don’t work in a factory to walk around in a t-shirt.”
I tried joking, persuading, but each time I hit a cold wall. He didn’t yell. He didn’t hit. He just looked at me as if I was a disappointment. And I felt ashamed. I wanted to be good. I tried. And without realizing, I stopped being myself.
But the worst was when I discussed having a child. I’m 30. I’ve long felt the desire to become a mother. Not just desire—I yearn for it. Yet, it seemed he always knew he wouldn’t allow it. His response stunned me:
“Why do we need a child? I have you. I love you. I don’t want anyone interfering in our lives.”
Love… Yet I feel like a captive. He doesn’t want to share my love. He wants a monopoly on it. He doesn’t need me to be a mother. He wants me to be just a wife. Convenient. Beautiful. Obedient.
More often, I catch myself feeling suffocated. Despite the comfort and outward glamor, I am not free. Every step under scrutiny, every glance monitored. I’m not allowed desires of my own. I’m not permitted to feel otherwise. I’m only allowed to be “his.”
Once, I tried to have a serious conversation with him. I said I wanted children, that I was tired of being a doll in a pretty house. He listened silently. Then he hugged me. Said that I’m imagining things. That everything is fine. That I am his happiness. His treasure. And if I have a child, this treasure will be taken from him.
Hearing this was terrifying. In his voice—no anger, no pain. Just a fanatical determination. As if he genuinely believed he has the right to decide for both of us. That I am his possession. Loved, but a possession.
Since then, I haven’t raised the topic again. But the fear that I’ll forever remain a hostage to this love doesn’t leave me. I’m 32. I want a child. I want a family where I can breathe. Where I am heard. Where I have the right to an opinion. Where I’m not just a picture, but a person.
I’m writing this because I don’t know what to do. I still love him. Or maybe I love who he was at the beginning. Or who I hoped he would become. I don’t know. But I know for sure: if it continues like this, I will break. I will simply cease to exist as a person.
Tell me… how can I make a man understand that love isn’t a cage, no matter how gilded? That a family isn’t about dictatorship but partnership? That I shouldn’t have to choose between “loving” and “living”? How can I speak when he only listens to himself?
I don’t want to leave. But I can’t continue living like this either.
