It started like any other day—dishes in the sink, a half-eaten breakfast, and a five-year-old tugging at my shirt while I tried to log into a work meeting.
But that day turned into something I never expected. I’ve been married to Eric for twelve years.
We have two kids:
Lily, 10, and Brandon, 5. I manage everything—
diapers, meals, school forms, and bedtime tears—
while Eric provides financially but does little else.One night, while we were having dinner,
Eric casually suggested we have a third baby. I almost dropped my fork.
You don’t even help with the two we have,”
I said. He responded with his usual lin
e: “I provide, you don’t appreciate how easy you have it.”
His mother and sister overheard and chimed in, telling me I was spoiled and needed to be more grateful.
That’s when it hit me: Eric didn’t see me as a partner, just someone to take care of things.
That night, Eric brought it up again. When I said no,
he told me I didn’t love him or the kids. I calmly replied, “I’ve grown up.
There’s a difference.” He kicked me out. Before I left, I said, “The kids stay.
You raise them if it’s so easy.”
He refused. I walked out with just a bag and filed for divorce soon after. I got full custody,
kept the house, and he now contributes through child support.
I never wanted this, but sometimes rebuilding your
life means letting the old one fall. For the first time,
I’m not waiting for someone else to show up—
I showed up for myself. Have you ever had to choose yourself over someone who wouldn’t lift a finger for you?
