**When Happiness Fades: She Humiliated Me, but I Endured for the Children**
I stayed silent for far too long. For years, I couldn’t bring myself to speak about this. It always felt like others had worse problems than mine. But now, after thirty years of marriage, I’m left with nothing but emptiness inside. I want to scream, to shout, “It shouldn’t be like this! This isn’t what life is meant to be!” But who would listen?
I’m fifty-eight, living in a house that stopped being a home long ago. Together, yet apart. Under the same roof, but strangers. And I fear there’s no changing it now.
I didn’t marry for love—and I’ve paid the price.
When I was twenty-eight, my parents insisted I marry Eleanor. I didn’t love her. But back then, I convinced myself love didn’t matter—only family, stability, respect. We married, and soon enough, Eleanor showed her true colours.
She humiliated me in front of friends, mocked me, called me useless. In public, she’d hold my hand sweetly, but behind closed doors, she’d sneer that I was worthless. Everything about me irritated her—how I ate, how I spoke, even how I breathed. Still, I endured. For the children. For the sake of keeping the family together. I told myself things would change with time.
Instead, they only grew worse.
We lived like neighbours—except neighbours don’t despise one another.
When our sons grew up and moved out, Eleanor didn’t bother hiding her contempt anymore. I built an extension on the house and moved into it. No more family dinners. We shared a fridge, plates, space—but nothing else. She labelled her food containers so I wouldn’t dare touch them. I ate alone, slept alone, lived alone. And when acquaintances said, *“You two are such a strong couple!”*, I wanted to laugh in their faces.
Every day was a fight just to exist.
When Eleanor wasn’t working, the house became a battleground. She’d scream, curse, blame me for everything. *“You’re pathetic!” “You’re worthless!” “You’ve achieved nothing!”* I tried to stay quiet, hoping if I endured it, the storm would pass. But it never did. She never tired of finding new ways to belittle me.
Once, I overheard her telling a friend, *“He’s not even a proper man. Just a useless tag-along.”* For the first time, I felt something inside me shatter. I was living with someone who saw me as nothing. And the worst part? I had nowhere to go.
I’d spent decades working, building this home, raising our children—only to be trapped, tolerating this just to keep a roof over my head.
I don’t know why I’m still here.
I could leave—but where would I go? The boys have their own lives now. They visit rarely, and when they do, they pretend not to notice. It’s easier for them to believe everything’s fine. And I’m past caring.
I’m just waiting. Waiting for this nightmare to end. Waiting until I no longer have the strength to argue. Waiting, hoping that maybe in my old age, I’ll find someone who doesn’t look at me with hatred.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. Maybe to tell those who are younger:
Don’t marry without love.
Don’t stay in a house where you’re treated like dirt.
Don’t endure misery just for the children—they’ll grow up and leave anyway.
I pray my sons are happier than I’ve been. And if my story teaches someone what I failed to learn… then maybe this wasn’t all for nothing.
