Twenty-five years ago, my husband left for abroad The stress and worry brought me to illness.
Good day. I long hesitated whether my tale was worth telling, but perhaps someone might read it and ponder Perhaps another soul will see themselves in it, or another still might avoid the mistakes I made.
I wish to remain unnamed, yet I need anothers perspectivejust a different point of view.
I married for love
I was young when I fell for him. Barely eighteen, and he twenty-two. It was a deep, pure love, full of trust. We believed no hardship could break usthat nothing mattered so long as we were together.
A year after our wedding, our son was born. I was happy then but not for long. Hard times came. Money was scarce; my wages were meager, his salary barely covered the bills. We lived simply, like many families, yet he thought it wasnt enough.
“Ill go abroad,” he said one day. “They pay better there. Well live well.”
I begged him not to go. I swore wed manage. Many endure hardships side by side. He wouldnt listen.
I was left alone with our child.
Years passed.
I hoped hed return, but he refused. Said hed earn more abroad. That just a little longer, and all would be well.
I pleaded with him to stay. There was work hereI earned too. My parents helped with the boy. We couldve lived like everyone else But he wouldnt come back.
With one child, I longed for anotherdreamt of a full housebut he said,
“Theres no money. Feeding one is hard enough.”
Yet even with just one, he wouldnt stay. Hed visit for a week or two, then leave again.
I raised our son aloneattended school meetings, sat with him through fevers. I never told my husband when the boy was ill, not wanting to trouble him and he never asked.
Still, he didnt return
Had he earned a fortune, had we lived in luxury, I might say, “It was worth it.” But no. The money barely kept us afloat.
Yet there were loansfor the roof, the car, the new washing machine. Like everyone elses.
Time and again, I tried to explainmoney wasnt everything, our son needed his father, I was weary but he wouldnt listen.
He lived there. We lived here.
Years slipped by.
Twenty-five years passed.
He came back.
Not with savings, but debts.
I sold my grandmothers cottage to cover some of what he owed. He thanked me, swore he loved me, said wed be together at last.
But at what cost?
Too late
One might thinkhere it was, the peaceful harbour Id waited for. My husband home, no more travels, no drink, no wandering One might think Id rejoice.
Yet suddenly, I found I couldnt breathe in that house.
To keep the peace, I had to surrender myself.
I stopped seeing friendshe disliked them. Said since he had none, I needed none. He didnt forbid it, but his looks killed any urge to go.
I stopped dressing well. He hated bright clothes, makeup, high heels. Said they didnt suit a woman our age.
I stopped laughing, stopped sharing funny stories, stopped dreaming.
I lived. Worked. Tidied. Cooked. Slept.
Once or twice a year, wed take a holiday. Just us two. No friends, no company. He didnt care for anyone.
And I endured it all. Every bit.
But my body gave way
The relentless grind, the constant strain, the loneliness crushed me.
I fell ill.
The diagnosis was grim. Cancer.
My world collapsed in an instant.
I dont know how long I have left.
But I know thisif I could turn back time, Id never have lived this way.
Id never have let myself fade into shadow.
Never have let my husband rule my life.
Never have traded myself for the illusion of family.
Now its too late.
My son is grown, with his own life. My parents are old, and I care for them as I can.
And my husband He says he loves me. That hell stay by me.
But my heart doesnt stir at it anymore.
I did not live as I wished.
I was a faithful wife. Patient. Gentle. I waited for him. Loved him.
And he He simply lived as he pleased.
If I could return to the past
I would have chosen myself.
Now, all I can say is thisdo not live as I have lived.
Do not put yourself last.
Do not lose yourself for a love that does not make you happy.
Life is too short for waiting.
