Im 27 years old and I live in a house where Im always apologising just for existing. The worst part is my husband thinks its normal.
Im 27 and Ive been married for two years. We dont have childrennot because I dont dream of them, but because from the start I told myself: first, we need a home that truly feels like home. Peace. Respect. Inner calm.
But peace left our home a long time ago.
And its not about money. Not about work. Not about any serious illness or tragedy.
Its about one woman.
My husbands mother.
At the beginning, I thought she was simply a bit strict. A little controlling. One of those mothers who always interferes and has an opinion.
I tried to be kind. Polite. To bite my tongue.
I told myself: shes his mum shell settle down shell warm to me give it time.
Except time didnt calm her.
Time made her bolder.
The first time she embarrassed me, it was minor.
She made the remark with a half-smile.
You young wivesalways keen for respect, arent you?
I laughed it off, trying not to make things awkward.
Then she began with her help.
Shed visit supposedly to drop off homemade chutneys, maybe bring food, or ask how we were.
She always did the same thing.
Shed inspect. Judge. Interfere.
Whys this here?
Who told you to put that there?
If I were you, I never would
The worst part was she didnt just say it to me.
She said it in front of my husband.
And he didnt react.
He never stopped her.
If I ever spoke up, he would cut in:
Oh, come on, youre overreacting.
I started to feel like I was losing my mind.
Like I was blowing things out of proportion.
Like I was the problem.
Then she started turning up unannounced.
The bell. The spare key. And there she was, inside.
Always with the same phrase:
Im not a stranger. This is like my own home.
The first couple of times, I swallowed it.
The third time, I calmly asked:
Would you mind giving me a heads up? Sometimes Im tired, sometimes Im asleep, sometimes I’m working.
She looked at me as if I were rude.
Do you think you can tell me when I can come and see my son?
That very evening my husband started an argument.
How could you insult her?
I just stood there in disbelief.
I wasnt insulting anyone. I just set a boundary.
He told me,
In my house, you dont kick out my mother.
My house.
Not our house.
His house.
After that, I began shrinking inside myself.
I didnt walk freely around the flat whenever she might pop in.
I stopped playing music.
I didnt laugh out loud.
When I cooked, I was scared shed say, That again?
When I cleaned, I worried shed say, Still dirty.
Worst of allI found myself apologising all the time.
Im sorry.
It wont happen again.
I didnt mean to.
I didnt say it like that.
Thats not what I meant.
A woman of 27 apologising for breathing.
Last week she came round while my husband was at work.
I was in my old jumper. Hair tied back. Id caught a cold.
She let herself in, didnt even ring the bell.
Look at the state of you, she said. Is this what my son deserves?
I didnt reply.
She walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
Nothing decent here, she muttered.
Then she opened cupboards.
Why are these cups here?
She started rearranging, grumbling, moving things.
I just stood quietly.
And then, at one point, she turned and said,
Ill tell you somethinglisten well. If you want to stay a wife you must learn your place. Under my son, not above him.
That was when something inside me snapped.
Not tears. Not shouting.
Just the sense that Id reached my limit.
When my husband came home, she was sitting on the sofa like a queen.
I told him quietly,
We need to talk. This cant keep going.
He wouldnt look at me.
Not now.
No, it needs to be now.
He sighed.
What is it this time?
I dont feel comfortable in my own home. She turns up unannounced. She belittles me. She speaks as if Im a servant.
He laughed.
A servant? Dont be dramatic.
Its not dramatic.
Then she piped up from the sofa,
If she cant handle it, shes not wife material.
And then came the worst part.
He said nothing.
Not a word for me.
He sat next to her.
And just repeated,
Dont make a fuss.
I looked at him, and for the first time, I saw clearly.
He wasnt torn between two women.
Hed picked his side.
The side that was convenient for him.
I looked at her. Then him.
And simply said,
Fine.
No arguing.
No tears.
No explanations.
I just stood up and went to the bedroom.
Packed my clothes in a bag.
Took my documents.
When I came into the hallway, he sprang up.
What are you doing?!
Im leaving.
Youve gone mad!
No. Ive woken up.
His mother smiled, certain shed won.
Where will you go? Youll come crawling back.
I looked at her, calm.
No. You want a house you can control. I want a home where I can breathe.
He grabbed my bags handle.
You cant leave because of my mum.
I looked him in the eye.
Im not leaving because of her.
He froze.
Then who?
Because of you. You chose her. And left me.
I walked out.
And you know what I felt outside?
Yes, the cold.
But also a sense of lightness.
For the first time in months, I didnt feel the need to apologise to anyone.
What would you do if you were in my positionwould you stay and put up with things for the marriage or would you leave the moment your husband stayed silent while you were being humiliated?
