I have been married a long time, I met my husband back at university. I did not meet anyone else, I chose him and stayed with him. I was one of those dinosaurs who are faithful to one man and did not make eyes at anyone.
We got married in our third year. Young and green. I don’t know if our love was strong, but I guess it was, since we lived under the same roof for so many years. All our classmates set us up as role models, even though we weren’t the only couple in the class. Why was that? Probably because we always stuck together, despite various difficulties and problems.
In our fourth year we became parents. We didn’t give up the studies; many teachers accepted our position, and we also didn’t get cheeky. By perseverance and strength we finished our higher education institution, received our diplomas and celebrated this event. My husband always helped me, we shared all household chores.
I could not imagine another husband. My husband is my ideal, my soul mate. We always complemented each other and hardly ever quarreled. Happy children should be born in such a family idyll, so after two years we decided on a daughter.
And why not? I had a caring husband, a healthy and independent son…So a daughter was just necessary to complete the picture.
It would seem that I am the happiest woman in the world. My husband loved me and always helped me. Despite his shifts, he would come home and play with the kids, and I could devote time to myself. Nothing foretold of trouble, but suddenly I noticed that my husband had grown cold to me.
He started staying late at work and picking on me. Constantly annoyed and nervous. Once, when asked “How are you?” he said that my business is to cook borscht, wipe the snot out of the kids and at night to please my husband.
With this approach, I lost the desire to go into the bedroom, and to stick to the stove. I thought that my husband would think about his behavior and improve himself, but things only got worse. Over time, my husband sat on the glass and began to disappear at night. Instead of a loving father, a real tyrant came home.
One day he came home and started yelling:
– I’m sick of kids screaming and your homemade sweatpants. I was never proud of you, you never wore makeup or dressed up for me. I don’t want to go anywhere with you, because you are not well-groomed. You only want money, and no one asks what I want!
I called my mother-in-law, but she started defending her son and asking me not to file for divorce. I packed my things and moved with the kids to a rented apartment. A friend helped me get my daughter into kindergarten, and I found an extra job. It’s hard to live, but we manage. At least no one would throw their fists at us!
Already at the trial it turned out that my husband was a mentally ill person. His parents hid this from me on purpose. They contributed to our union, because I was a perfect match for my psycho son, quiet and compliant. My mother-in-law treated him in Germany, but the treatment had no results. Then he was on pills to lead a normal life. Of course I feel sorry for him, but I don’t want to live with an inadequate man in one apartment. The main thing is that his disease is not passed on to his children.
