Let me share a story Ive carried like a stone in my pockettoo heavy to ignore, too awkward to mention. Maybe Ive foolishly told myself others have it worse. But today, Ill say it aloud: Im not happy. In fact, Ive been miserable for as long as I can remember.
Thirty years ago, I married Simon. Not for love, but because it seemed the sensible choice. My parents wouldnt stop singing his praiseshow reliable he was, how Id never want for anything. So, I took their advice.
Back then, I thought love was optional. Stability mattered more.
What a colossal mistake that was.
**Humiliation on Repeat**
Even in our younger days, Simon had no qualms about belittling me in front of others.
She cant even boil an egg properly! hed joke to his mates at the pub, and theyd all roar with laughter.
In bed? Like a plank of wood, hed sneer, oblivious to me standing right beside him, staring at the floor in shame.
I stayed quiet. I endured.
I tried to prove I was worth lovingcooked his meals, played the doting wife. But all I ever got in return was cold indifference.
Then the children came.
I told myself: *For them, Ill keep going.*
**Under One Roof, Worlds Apart**
When our boys grew up and moved out, Simon didnt even pretend to need me anymore.
He built himself a separate room in the househis own little kingdom. To the neighbours and our few remaining friends, we were still the perfect couple. On the surface, nothing had changed. We shared the same kitchen, the same roof.
But no one knew our fridge was split in two.
Hed mark his food with bold S.P. in marker pen so I wouldnt accidentally touch his precious snacks.
I made do with what I could affordplain porridge, potatoes, the occasional tin of beans.
I was only allowed in the kitchen when he wasnt home. Morning and noon, I ate alone in my room. If I dared cross his path, hed glare like Id committed treason.
Meanwhile, hed sit at the table with his posh cheeses, fancy cured meats, and a bottle of red, never once offering me a bite.
I felt like a ghost in my own home.
**Indifference with a Side of Spite**
Occasionally, wed go to the supermarket togethereach buying only what wed eat ourselves.
Bills were split down to the last penny for water, electricity, even the phone.
But to the outside world? Still together. Even our sons, who visited less and less, had no clue.
And I kept enduring.
His stony silences, his contempt, the weight of his disapproval.
But weekends were the worst.
Those days, the house became a warzone.
**Youre Nothing**
Hed stomp around like he owned every square inch. If I left so much as a teaspoon on his side of the table, all hell broke loose.
Hed grumble under his breath for hours, then explode over nothing.
Youre a useless cow! hed shout, face twisted in anger.
Thick as a plank and twice as dull!
For years, I clenched my fists and bit my tongue.
But one day, something inside me snapped.
He was ranting about somethingI dont even remember what.
I just sat there, watching him turn purple with rage.
For the first time, I wanted to grab a vase and hurl it at his head. I wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain Id carried all these years.
But I didnt.
I just stood up and walked to my room.
No shouting back. No tears.
Because I finally understood: *This man means nothing to me.*
**Terrified, but More Terrified of Staying**
Im still here. Still under the same roof.
I dont know if Ill ever have the courage to leave.
Im scared.
But even more, Im scared of dying herenever knowing the joy of being truly loved.
All I pray for now is that my sons never follow this path. That they marry someone who cherishes them, respects them.
As for me?
For now, Im just surviving.
