Love-Drama

Here’s my story:
I’m about to start a training course so I can work in a certain place in a few days.
Right now I’m torn. After deciding to leave my husband, I refinanced my car to pay off debts, enrolled in the course, and I’m about to fly out next month. Suddenly my husband’s relatives started helping — giving advice, trying to find jobs for me, etc.
What worries me now is:
1. I know for sure I don’t want to stay with my husband anymore. But I don’t have a job and I don’t have a home of my own. I’m afraid I might be forced to leave my child at my husband’s family home for a while.
2. Or… should I go see a family psychiatrist with my husband and try to fix things one more time?
3. Or should I just go, and then come back to bring my child with me once I’ve gotten my life stable?
My child is 2.8 years old. At my husband’s house, his father has cancer, his mother is 68 years old. I feel so sorry for my child, but I also feel like I can’t take it anymore.
Does anyone have any guidance or suggestions for me? If I decide to leave, I’m afraid I’ll be so worried about my child that I won’t be able to go anywhere. I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night for months.
Should I see a psychiatrist? Or should I go with my husband and try again?
Okay… my friend, come sit here with me for a moment. ðŦķ
Today I’m not going to give you a short answer like “stay” or “leave.”
I want to talk to you like a close friend sitting right beside you.
Because what you’re facing right now isn’t just “making a life choice.”
It’s about taking your life back from guilt, exhaustion, and the most complicated bond in the world — motherhood.
I’m going to walk through this carefully, like a movie about your life where you slowly see yourself from above.
Because sometimes, “forgiving yourself” needs both logic and heart working together.
We’ll peel this layer by layer —
from your story with your husband,
to your child,
to your guilt,
and then to the point where we talk about “staying or leaving” with as much clarity and self-compassion as possible.
You got married in 2020.
Had your baby in 2022.
You were together 6 years before that —
which means this relationship has taken more than 8 years of your life.
Eight years…
That’s a huge chunk of a woman’s life.
It’s the phase where many people hope to feel “settled” and “supported.”
But for you, it has turned into the most draining period of all.
From what you shared, I clearly see this:
You have been the one “giving” non-stop all along the way.
You gave:
You wanted your husband to be more involved in the family.
But he kept choosing you as his “last option.”
When you’re too tired to even speak,
he still responds with the same line:
“It’s not my problem.”
And as you might already feel —
that sentence is harsher than “I won’t help.”
“I won’t help” still admits there is a shared issue.
“It’s not my problem” erases you from his circle of responsibility.
It’s like you’re in a “home” only on paper,
but emotionally, you’ve been alone there for a long time.
You wrote that after big fights,
he’s better for 1–2 days and then goes back to his usual behavior.
This is exactly what I’d call a cycle of hope and heartbreak.
Every time he’s nice,
you start to hope:
“Maybe this time he’s really changed.”
But when he slips back,
the pain is even sharper —
because you had just allowed yourself to believe in him again.
And when your father was sick,
he said:
“You and your brother handle it. It has nothing to do with me.”
For a wife, words like that feel like a punch to the chest.
Because what we need most in a marriage isn’t just money
or sharing a roof,
it’s the feeling that:
“I’m not facing my problems alone.”
Let’s list what you’ve been doing:
This doesn’t look like a partnership.
It looks like you’re playing the role of a whole system —
mother, worker, caretaker, emotional support —
without getting support in return.
So I want to tell you honestly:
No one deserves a life where they’re forced to apologize to themselves every day for being tired.
Your decision to return to your dream —
to study and work on a ship —
is not selfish.
It is the survival instinct of a woman who wants a future.
You wrote:
“I feel sorry for my child, but I can’t take it anymore… I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night for months.”
That line hits very deep.
Because it’s the voice of a mother who wants to give her child the best
but is slowly breaking inside.
Let me tell you a truth:
Every mother loves her child.
But a mother is not a machine.
You are human.
You have:
Feeling guilty because you “want rest”
doesn’t mean you don’t love your child.
It means you’re still human.
People often mix these two up.
But they’re actually very different:
| Guilt | Responsibility |
|---|---|
| Comes from emotion | Comes from reason |
| Makes you feel worthless | Helps you decide what to do next |
| Goes in painful circles | Moves you forward like a roadmap |
| Makes you cry | Helps you stand up and plan |
What you need now is to transform your guilt into a new kind of responsibility.
Not the old responsibility of
“I’ll tolerate everything for everyone.”
But a new responsibility:
“I’ll build a life where I can truly stand — so my child has a mother who is alive inside, not just surviving.”
Your child doesn’t only need a mother who is physically present.
Your child needs a mother who can actually smile from the heart.
You mentioned three possible paths:
Let’s go through each one gently but honestly.
From a hopeful perspective, this sounds good.
But let’s look at reality based on your story.
So far, your husband has:
From this, it doesn’t look like he:
And when a person doesn’t believe there’s a problem,
family therapy rarely works,
because it requires both sides to be willing.
However…
Going to see a psychiatrist alone, just you,
could be extremely helpful.
A psychiatrist can:
So: couples’ therapy with him may not be realistic.
But individual therapy for you?
That could be very healing.
This is the option that brings the most guilt for many mothers.
But in many real-life situations…
it’s actually the path that saves both mother and child in the long run.
Going to study and work is not the same as abandoning your child.
It’s:
“I’m going to build a foundation so my child has a better future.”
The key is: you must plan your child’s care with great care and clarity.
Questions to consider:
At 2.8 years old, your child needs attachment —
but attachment doesn’t always mean physical presence only.
It can be maintained through:
For example:
It’s not perfect, but it is still love — and children can feel that.
I’m going to be very direct here, with love.
Please don’t stay just because you’re afraid your child will “grow up without a father.”
Children are not hurt only by the absence of a father.
They are deeply hurt by growing up in a house where:
A child feels the emotional climate more than they understand words.
What your child truly needs is not:
“Mom and Dad under one roof no matter what.”
But:
“A home where at least one parent is emotionally safe, stable, and loving.”
Staying in a cold, dismissive, or emotionally neglectful environment,
where you cry at night and he drinks and checks out,
will slowly harm both you and your child.
Your child will grow up absorbing:
“Mom isn’t happy. This is what relationships look like.”
And that’s not the lesson you want to pass on.
If you choose to go ahead with your training and work (which, from what you shared, I do feel may be the healthiest option for you right now),
here’s how you can plan to protect both yourself and your child:
“Mommy loves you.”
“You’re my sunshine.”
Even small things like this help your child feel:
“Mom is still here. She didn’t disappear from my heart.”
For example:
“Within 1 year, I will have saved X amount and I will return to bring my child to live with me.”
Having a concrete timeline transforms your journey from:
“I’m running away from my child”
into:
“I’m on a mission for my child and myself.”
This makes the guilt easier to carry,
because it now has direction and purpose.
There are many single moms, migrant worker moms,
and women who had to leave temporarily to work.
They’ve battled the same guilt,
the same sleepless nights,
and they’ve found ways to keep their bond with their children strong.
Finding such a community (online or offline) can remind you:
“I’m not the only one. I’m not a bad mother. I’m a mother who’s fighting.”
Because what you’re going through isn’t “just stress.”
It’s prolonged emotional overload from:
Crying yourself to sleep every night for months
can be a sign of:
A psychiatrist or therapist can:
And don’t worry —
seeing a psychiatrist doesn’t mean you’re weak.
It means you’re finally letting someone hold you for a change.
You deserve that.
Don’t be afraid that your leaving will “destroy” your child.
Children are more deeply wounded by watching their mother break,
than by seeing her leave to rebuild herself —
and come back stronger, more alive, more present.
Your child doesn’t need a perfect mother.
Your child needs a mother who is still here inside —
not just a body running on empty.
You are already a good mother
because you are thinking this deeply,
hurting this much,
and still trying to choose what’s best for your child.
One day,
I truly believe you’ll be standing on the deck of that ship,
looking at the sky,
and you’ll whisper to yourself:
“I did the right thing by not abandoning myself.”
Because when a mother saves herself…
she gives her child a new kind of future, too. ❤️
#MomGuilt #ToxicMarriage #SingleMomJourney #ShouldIStayOrLeave #MentalHealthMatters #WomenSupportingWomen #MotherhoodStruggles #HealingForMoms #DramoCiety #RelationshipAdvice
0 Comments