I spent years being despised and belittled while taking care of our home and family. It wasn’t until an incident that landed me in the hospital that my husband finally noticed something was wrong.
This year, I’m 36 and married to Tyler, who is 38. From the outside, we looked like the perfect family, but the truth was far from it. When Tyler abused me while I was struggling, it was the last straw.
An angry man shouting | Source: Pexels
Some outsiders who knew my husband and me described us as the “American dream.” And in a way, they were. I lived in a comfortable four-bedroom apartment with two young boys, a manicured lawn, and a husband who had a flashy job as a lead developer for a game studio.
Tyler earned more than enough to maintain our lifestyle, so I stayed home with the children. Unfortunately, most people assumed I had it easy. But behind closed doors, I felt like I was suffocating.
A sad woman sitting on the floor | Source: Pexels
Don’t get me wrong, Tyler was never physically violent, but his words were sharp, calculated, and constant, which made him cruel. I know, that’s not an excuse or to say he was better because the pain he inflicted wasn’t visible, but I had convinced myself that it was at least bearable.
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