I’ve been married for 10 years, and in the beginning, I truly believed we could make it through anything. I was young, hopeful, and willing to overlook the issues that now weigh so heavily on me. My husband had his flaws, some of them serious—he treated me poorly at times, and there were even instances of cheating. Back then, I convinced myself that forgiveness was the best path forward. I thought that love meant giving second chances, that if I tried hard enough, we could move past those painful moments. So, I stayed, forgave, and chose to build a life with him. Eventually, we had children, and for a while, I thought we had turned a corner.

But somewhere around the five or six-year mark, I began feeling a simmering resentment that I couldn’t shake. I felt betrayed not only by him but by the younger version of myself who had put up with so much for so long. The memories of his past actions, the disrespect, the betrayal—they lingered like shadows I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried to bury them. I would find myself wondering if he truly cared for me, if he regretted what he’d done, or if he was just content with the life we had settled into.

Soon, these feelings of resentment turned into something else: a desire for attention, validation, a reminder that I was still valued and seen. I began having urges to reach out to other men, craving that feeling of being wanted that I wasn’t finding at home. I never thought I would feel that way, but the hurt and disappointment I’d been carrying started to build into something I didn’t recognize in myself. I wanted to feel excitement again, to experience the thrill of being appreciated, to remember what it felt like to be adored, even if only for a fleeting moment.

It didn’t help that intimacy with my husband had changed too. All I eventually could think about during those moments was the pain he had caused me, the times he had stepped out on our marriage. I tried to ignore it, to focus on the present, but the memories were there, clouding everything. I found myself fantasizing about other people, wondering if I could find happiness with someone else. I wanted to reach out, to escape, to experience something more fulfilling. But at the same time, I was conflicted—my loyalty to our family, to the life we had built, kept me rooted.

The internal struggle has left me feeling torn, burdened by guilt but also by a desperate need for something more. I wonder if things could ever truly heal between us or if I’m destined to carry this resentment for as long as we’re together. I don’t know if there’s a way to move forward, to feel whole again in this relationship. I’m stuck, not sure whether to stay in hopes of reclaiming what was lost or to finally prioritize my own happiness and peace. For now, I just keep going, holding on to the hope that, somehow, I’ll find clarity in this tangled mess of emotions.