A letter to ...FamilyThe letter you always wanted to write
I will never forget the beauty I saw when I first set eyes on you. I never tired of telling you how handsome you were (often to your intense irritation). You were ambitious; it was infectious. You made me promises I never imagined you wouldn’t keep.
Life was exciting. We enjoyed nights out, exotic holidays, I felt loved and wanted. We married and had two children. Then everything changed. I soon realised that I wasn’t your priority and never would be.
You no longer have any zest for life, no interest in anything other than your gadgets. Conversation is one-way, no questions are asked and responses to anything I might pose are one syllable (paired with a grunt and a roll of the eyes). Meals have only ever been cooked by me and you have never attempted to prepare anything, I have asked that you try but to no avail. At night, we lie side by side, never touching, never speaking. I don’t cry myself to sleep any more, my tears don’t get me anywhere, no one can hear.
The pressure is often more than I can bear. I want to scream: ‘Where is the man I fell in love with?’You haven’t touched me since the conception of our second child. All I want is to be held, to be brought a cup of tea in the morning, to be told I am appreciated, to enjoy life’s simple adventures with the man I am meant to share my life and my world with. You are irritated by any plans I make to ensure our free time as a family is spent as best we can together. All you want to do is sleep.
We both work full-time and we both earn the same but you treat me as your intellectual inferior. When your work day has finished, however, mine continues the moment I walk through the door of our house. Laundry, preparing meals for the children, food shopping, children’s homework, buying presents for parties, constant reminders. The pressure is often more than I can bear. I want to scream: “Where is the man I fell in love with?”
The pain is most palpable when we are among people who are clearly very much in love. The slightest touch that speaks volumes, a kiss on the neck which induces the saddest feeling within me simply in the knowledge that you will never do that to me. I need moments like those; they should be my fuel rather than the anger that now replaces the love that once was.
My friends acknowledge that I am in a hopeless situation and I freely accept that I have allowed it to get this bad. When I have mentioned it to my parents, the response is always, “Darling, he works very hard, please don’t put pressure on him.” I don’t respond. I want to weep and my heart breaks a little bit more.
I am scared that my children are being raised in a world where it is acceptable to allow a mother to do everything, where snapping is acceptable communication, a world where love isn’t everyone’s priority. It isn’t acceptable now and should never be considered so.
Your approach to life is the antithesis of mine. I want to laugh until it hurts; I don’t remember the last time you laughed. I want to run into your arms when you come home, and I want you to run into mine. I want to share the load.
I am so sad. For you. For me. For our children. For the life that we were meant to have together. But I can’t stay for the sake of the children; I know it would only prolong an increasingly unbearable agony. I always thought I was unbreakable, but continuing down this road will surely break me. Please don’t let that happen. Please let’s just hold our hands up, admit defeat and walk away as friends.
We’d love to hear your stories
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