For over three decades, I lived in a one-sided relationship, giving everything I had while receiving little to nothing in return. I compromised, sacrificed, and carried the weight of responsibilities that should have been shared. Yet, no matter how much I contributed—emotionally, financially, and physically—my efforts were met with indifference, entitlement, and a complete lack of appreciation.

I spent years engaging in his hobbies, trying to connect, trying to be what he needed, while he flatly refused to engage in anything I enjoyed. I fished with him, supported his interests, and adjusted my life to accommodate his desires, yet he never once reciprocated. It was always about him—what he wanted, what suited him. Meanwhile, I was left running around like a headless chicken, juggling a demanding international career, handling all the DIY, painting, sewing, cleaning, cooking, gardening, and still contributing financially—all without help or gratitude.

He stopped working 23 years ago and simply did nothing—other than fishing, playing tennis, watching TV, and living his life on his terms. While I drowned in responsibilities, he relaxed. I was not just his wife; I was his housekeeper, provider, and emotional punching bag. And because I had been conditioned to believe that this was ‘normal,’ I accepted it for far too long.

Looking back now, I see how deep the psychological abuse ran. It wasn’t just the unfair distribution of responsibilities; it was the gaslighting, the control, and the insidious way he made me feel like I was never enough, never doing enough, never deserving of love or care. And now, I understand why I have been suffering from PTSD—probably for years—without fully realizing it.

I’ve been told that recovering from 32 years of psychological abuse is the equivalent of trying to wean yourself off cocaine. The toll it takes is immense. The exhaustion, the self-doubt, the emotional and physical depletion—it all lingers, long after the abuser is gone. But now, at long last, I am free to heal. I am free to put myself first.

I no longer have to mold myself around someone else’s selfishness. My needs, my desires, my interests—they finally matter. And though the road to recovery is long, I am on it. No one will ever use or abuse me again. I deserve respect. I deserve peace.

As for him? I pity the next poor soul who gets sucked into his vortex, completely unaware of what’s coming. But that is no longer my burden to bear.

Perhaps one day, someone will enter my life who truly wants to care for me, to love me as I deserve to be loved. Or maybe not. Either way, I am reclaiming my life, my happiness, and my future—on my terms.