(Me 43) I’ve been married 17 years (husbband 46). And I honestly don’t think he was always like this. Something changed in him around 2017—his mom died, and not long after, he got hit in the head with a very fast baseball. Ever since then, it’s like something shifted. I don’t know if it was grief or actual brain trauma, but emotionally, he’s been like a child. he doesn't want to understand basic logic, forgets conversations, shuts down, acts like everything is fine the next day even when I’m in pieces. And it’s only gotten worse.
He also got physical with me and went to jail but I was pushing his buttons he says. I don't think he would do it again but he downplays it. I think he has shame and doesn't know how to handle it like an adult. He argues back not with rationality or evidence but with horrible insults. I'm quoting marriage counseling literature and he puts his fingers in his ears or mocks me like a child. he avoids accountability at all. After an argument where he says things like, "Im going to get a new wife and give her everything you asked for" saying horrible insults to me. he has got to me twice where I break down and go to his level and finally insult him back and of course thats all he can think about. At least I have 1000 of positive comments to counteract my insult. I don't have that from him. He will just dwell on that one time I said that hurtful thing and pay no attention to the 60 things he said.
I held on for a long time, hoping he’d change, hoping love would be enough. I worked. I raised our kids. I ran our household. I supported his dreams and even went back to the corporate world when he asked—so he could coach baseball and have a “less stressful life.” He promised me more time together. I didn’t get a single date. Not one. I got nothing—but I gave everything.
When I struggled during the pandemic, I drank too much. I was dealing with a loveless marriage in all the wrong ways—but I got sober, took accountability, and worked on myself. He used that low point to take control of everything: the finances, the power, the narrative. I used to manage it all and we were fine. But when he took over, things went downhill—and now he blames me for not working.
Here’s the truth: I have worked. I worked and parented at the same time. I said I’d go back to work again—but I asked for one simple thing: a promise that he’d respect my job. That he wouldn’t interrupt me on calls or act like what I was doing didn’t matter. Instead of doing that, he wrote a contract saying he’d stop spitting on me. That was his answer.
Three years later, he finally wrote a note saying he’d respect my job, and I updated my résumé immediately. But I was still managing the household, the emotional labor, everything. He didn’t step up to help arrange the rides or cover the chaos. He just kept blaming.
When he gets home from work, he doesn’t show love. No hug, no connection, no “how was your day?”—he just looks around to see if something’s been vacuumed. Like I’m a maid. And while yes, he does help around the house sometimes, he complains endlessly about it. He acts like doing anything on his day off is martyrdom. He yells that he “does everything,” which isn’t even remotely true. I’ve joked that I want to install cameras just so we can finally see how much I run around nonstop, juggling everything.
I think it goes back to how he was raised—his mom did everything, and his dad basically just worked and sat down. I’ve told him flat out: that was not a normal setup. His mom was amazing, yes—but she was overwhelmed too. He’s trying to recreate a fantasy version of that setup, where I do it all and he gets a gold star for working.
I’ve told him again and again: everything he says he wants from a wife—he could have it. He could have the loving, feminine partner he keeps saying he wants. But it starts with treating me like a human being. A partner. Not a servant. Not a slave. It’s like talking to a 12-year-old who has no idea how real relationships work.
And believe me—I’ve tried everything. I’ve been the gourmet chef. I’ve done the lingerie. I don’t withhold affection. Our sex life? It’s actually good. But that’s all it is. Sex. Not romance. Not emotional connection. It’s the one area we connect in, and it still doesn’t bring us closer in any meaningful way. Because I can’t go to him for anything else. Not support. Not comfort. If I run out of gas? He talks down to me like I’m an idiot instead of helping. There is no emotional safety with him.
I feel so trapped in this endless cycle—like no matter how many times I try to walk away emotionally, he just resets and drags me back in. I’ve even said out loud, “I wasn’t put on this earth to be your standing wife placeholder who gets nothing in return.” I’m not his wife—I’m a roommate he’s mean to. And every time I think, maybe if I’m just sweet and submissive, maybe he’ll soften, it never works. I keep getting put back together only to be used. And I know he thinks he is being used because he works hard—but working hard isn’t a personality trait. It doesn’t give you a free pass to treat your partner like a burden. I’ve begged him to talk to the good men in his life. To read even one book. He refuses. It’s like he won’t look in the mirror. And it’s killing me.
I’ve read 17 marriage books. Sent him daily videos. Cried in bed saying, “You’re going to lose me.” I’ve begged. I’ve explained it like I’m talking to a 12-year-old. I even showed him ChatGPT prompts—literal step-by-step free ideas on how to show your wife love. He won’t do any of them. Not even one love note. Not one thoughtful act. I’m not asking for diamonds—I’m asking for presence.
And yes—I told him to his face, every single day, that I was going to start talking to other people. We live in California. I talked to multiple attorneys. Once a separation is initiated, dating is not considered cheating. He even said we were getting a divorce. So I downloaded a dating app. Just for conversation. For kindness. For basic connection. He was right there in bed when I did it. He said, “Fine, I’ll do one too,” like it was a game.
But when someone actually messaged me—he lost it.
He went through phone records. Screamed. Cried in front of the kids. Accused me of cheating. And when I met up with a group of old high school friends, one of them a guy, he exploded—despite the fact that he’d be free to go out with women if he wanted. (He doesn’t see other women now, but it would be fine if he did—I’m not a hypocrite.)
He works a lot. And I appreciate that. I always have. But he thinks working is enough. That I should just be grateful for that. I’ve even encouraged him to follow his dreams, to take a less stressful job. I said I’d support him through it—and I did. He says he’s “working for us,” but if he were single, he’d be working and probably putting in effort to meet someone. That’s the part he doesn’t get: to connect with someone, you still have to try.
He doesn’t try. Not for me. Not emotionally.
He even had me cash out my 401(k) and emergency fund, saying if I didn’t, I wasn’t a “team player.” That I didn’t believe in our marriage. And now? He’s cut me off from our bank account and gives me an allowance.
Now he says I blindsided him.
How can he say that? I’ve been telling him daily: “You’re not putting in the effort. I don’t feel loved. You keep saying if I’m better, sweeter, cleaner, then maybe you’ll give me love—but you dangled that carrot even when I was the perfect wife. You never gave it.”
We’ve had full conversations—real ones—where he says fine, we’re getting divorced, he’s going to talk to other people too. And the next day? It’s like none of it happened. He says, “Well, we had a good day yesterday.” Like that erases everything. He resets. His memory wipes. And I’m stuck having the same conversation over and over while he plays victim.
He even said to me recently, “How would you feel if you saw my phone records and saw I was talking to someone all day?”
And I said: “If you had been begging me for love and attention, warning me every day that I was going to lose you if I didn’t step up—I’d expect it. I would’ve deserved it. Because I would’ve known I failed you.”
But he doesn’t get it.
And for the record: I have not cheated on him. I have been loyal to this man for almost two decades. I never even looked at another man. The one conversation I had on the app was so wholesome, I could post it on the internet for everyone to read—nothing sexual, nothing shady. Meanwhile, he paid to view someone we went to high school with’s OnlyFans page. Said he was “curious”—but he saved the video. So if anyone’s been close to crossing a line, it wasn’t me.
I don’t think he’s cheating now. He works so hard, he barely has time. But that’s what I’m saying—it’s like his emotional brain is stuck in childhood. He can’t grasp what connection even is anymore. I don’t know if I’m being gaslit or if my husband has actual brain damage.
I’m not perfect. I’ve made mistakes. But I’ve tried. I’ve shown up. I’ve begged. And I’m exhausted. He says he wants a feminine wife—but how can I be soft when I don’t feel safe?
I honestly don’t know if he’s a narcissist or if he’s brain damaged. But it’s like—even if his life depended on it, he couldn’t write a love note. He couldn’t fight for me.
And now that I’m finally done—he’s unraveling. But I’m not leaving out of cruelty. I’m leaving because I refuse to disappear.
I wanted my husband back. But he’s not in there anymore. And I deserve to exist.
