I’m having a really hard time feeling love for my husband, and lately I just want a way out. It feels like every day is a battle, and I’m constantly walking on eggshells, trying to avoid triggering his unpredictable temper. I remember when we first met, he was so charming and attentive. He made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. Now, it feels like I’m just a convenient target for his frustrations. I keep hoping that things will get better, that we can somehow recapture the spark we once had, but deep down, I’m starting to lose hope. The constant negativity and the feeling of being unappreciated is slowly eroding my love for him, and I’m terrified of what the future holds. Is this all there is? Am I destined to be unhappy forever? Today was a beautiful, snowy day in my city. I do horseback riding, and I decided to do something nice for a couple of friends we often spend time with as a family. I hired a big sleigh pulled by two horses with a coachman. We rode through a snowy forest and drank mulled wine. I envisioned a scene from a fairytale, a perfect winter memory to cherish. I wanted to create a special moment for everyone, especially after the recent stresses and challenges we’ve all been facing. I imagined laughter, shared stories, and the warmth of friendship against the backdrop of a winter wonderland. I meticulously planned every detail, from the cozy blankets in the sleigh to the spiced aroma of the mulled wine, hoping to create an atmosphere of joy and camaraderie.
…………………………………………..
👇 [ CONTINUE READING ] 👇
…………………………………………..
The entire time, my husband was complaining. First he wanted to sit somewhere else because he couldn’t see well, then something else wasn’t right, then something else again. At one point, while we were still moving, I had to climb over and sit next to the coachman just to free up the seat he wanted. I did my best to keep a good mood and not ruin the moment. It felt like a dark cloud was hanging over us. Each complaint was like a pinprick to my carefully constructed bubble of happiness. I tried to remain positive, to brush off his negativity and focus on the beauty around us, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The joy I had anticipated was slowly fading, replaced by a growing sense of disappointment and frustration.
We got really cold and decided to go back to our place and cook dinner for the four of us. The initial plan was to continue the festive atmosphere, warming up by the fire and enjoying a delicious meal together. I had envisioned us laughing and sharing stories, the warmth of the fire mirroring the warmth of our friendships. I wanted to create a cozy and inviting space where everyone could relax and feel comfortable. The aroma of the food cooking would fill the air, creating a sense of home and togetherness.
Everyone helped – except my husband. He sat in the living room, glued to his phone, barely acknowledging our presence. The contrast between his indifference and our efforts to create a pleasant evening was stark. His lack of participation felt like a deliberate act of sabotage, undermining the spirit of cooperation and camaraderie that we were trying to foster. It was as if he was intentionally trying to isolate himself, creating a barrier between himself and the rest of us.
Every time I asked him for anything, he snapped and argued. At some point I handed him some dishes and asked him to set the table, and he completely lost it. He started yelling that he didn’t want to do anything, that I had no right to ask him for anything, that I was out of my mind, etc. His outburst was completely disproportionate to the request. It felt like he was unleashing a torrent of pent-up anger and resentment, using me as a convenient target. His words were sharp and cutting, designed to inflict maximum pain. I was completely taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, and a wave of shame washed over me.
When I tried to push back, he told me that if I didn’t like something, I could pack my shit and fuck off out of his house. I asked him, “Yours?” (because it’s actually my apartment). That set him off even more. He started screaming that I was throwing it in his face that the apartment isn’t his, that he’s not an idiot, and that if it came to it, he’d make sure I was left with absolutely nothing. At one moment, our friend literally stepped in front of me with his body and told my husband to calm down. I feel so ashamed of this situation. This is how my husband behaves all the time. He constantly shifts responsibility and obligations onto others, and when that doesn’t work, he attacks me. I’m exhausted. I genuinely thought this was a good evening and that everyone was enjoying themselves, but he completely ruined it. The embarrassment of having our friends witness his behavior was almost unbearable. The image of our friend stepping in to protect me is seared into my memory, a stark reminder of the extent of his abuse. I’m left feeling humiliated, exhausted, and utterly heartbroken. I need to find a way out.
