Done Pretending

For years, I’ve lived in distress and quiet panic. The truth is simple: I’m unhappy in my marriage.

I tried to make it work, but nothing ever brought lasting peace. We don’t connect. Our conversations—when they happen—are tense, surface-level, or driven by fear. Never about us.

I can’t remember a time when I felt true happiness between us. What I do remember is tension, criticism, and the constant urge to shrink myself. I censor my words. I tiptoe through the days. And intimacy? Hollow. There’s no warmth. No real connection.

Disagreements are constant. Around him, I am not myself. I choose my words carefully to avoid conflict. I adjust my actions to keep the peace. I pretend to enjoy things I don’t. Love shouldn’t feel like a survival tactic.

I gave and gave. But it was never mutual. I shaped my world around his moods. Now, without him, I feel free—free to wear what I want, to work without needing to prove my worth, to enjoy life without fear of being judged.

There are truths I’ll never tell him: that I feel emotionally numb, that I crave intimacy with depth, that I long for meaningful, intellectual, and uplifting conversations. But I already know how those talks would end.

So I won’t keep pretending. I am done pretending.

I need to leave. I don’t know how or when, but I know it’s time. This chapter is ending. I won’t relive it.

I deserve happiness.

And I will claim it.