How did we get here hey?
You were adamant you would never end up marrying anyone like your Dad, sure that you'd picked someone different. He was so gentle in comparison: accommodating, thoughtful considerate, safe.
He was well liked by your social circle; people told you you'd got a good one. People said how well matched you were; it was accepted, by everyone, all so happy for you both.
He seemed the type to work at things, the type who cared, who would always treat you with courtesy, loyalty and respect. He seemed to have goals, plans for the future; love for you. He made so much effort.
Somewhere between moving in together and having your first baby, things began to change didn't they. He became so complacent, stubborn, stuck-in-a-rut, selfish. You felt nothing more than his home-help; an appliance, a carrier of children. Mum to everyone. Worrier of everything whilst he ambled through life seemingly caring very little about anything you wanted or needed. Expecting you to burden the load of the home, of the children, of the money, of the time.
Your friendships faded whilst his flourished. Your hobbies went rusty, whilst he nurtured his. Your passport expired in the drawer, his gained more stamps.
You became hate-filled, nasty, sarcastic. You loathed yourself for the way you felt towards him and the way you snapped at him all the time. The truth was you felt trapped and alone.
You started to challenge him and question his behaviour. This got his back up. Then by doing more for yourself and in turn a rage in him surfaced, a spoilt, selfish rage. The sulking dragged out for days; the air thick with disapproving glances, one word responses and avoidance.
You carried on pushing though: date nights, talk nights, counselling, sofa nights, film nights.
You had to make it work. He could change. You could help him.
But he just had please-himself-nights.
Then came the seperate rooms, the arguing stopped, all was quiet and cold; bitter in the end. He seemed to care less but refused to give in, refused to end the torment. Waiting for you to save the day by agreeing to his every wish and whim.
And here you are, not saving anything as you too have given up. You have decided to save yourself instead. And I am so pleased that you finally have, but you're grieving. For every missed cuddle and kiss and pleasant evening, for every date night and summer evening not sat together on the patio. For every miserable, lonely bedtime that could have been different. For every holiday that won't be had, for the pain your children will eventually feel when it's all over. And he lies in the next room, oblivious to what is to come, because he don't think you'll leave.
You said you would never get to this, that your children would never have to go through what you did. I'm so sorry you're going through this. I'm sorry he let you down. I'm sorry he wasn't who you thought he was.
We can do it though, can't we? We can get out in one piece?
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Relationships
An open letter to myself
11 replies
Soozeesheep · 10/09/2019 22:46
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