I’ve been married for 10 years, and when I first walked down the aisle, I believed in the promise of love, companionship, and a future together. I thought we had the kind of relationship that would last forever, that we’d grow old together and look back on a beautiful life filled with shared memories. But somewhere along the way, the reality of our relationship started to feel much different than the dream I had imagined.

In the beginning, my husband wasn’t as attentive or loving as I’d hoped. It was small things at first—moments when I felt dismissed, ignored, or unimportant—but over time, those moments grew into bigger issues. Then came the betrayal. My husband cheated on me, shattering the trust I had placed in him. I was devastated, but I was young, naïve, and believed in the idea of love and forgiveness. So, I forgave him. I thought we could start fresh, that things would get better. We built a life together, had children, and did what we could to move forward. But despite my best efforts, something inside me started to change.

Around 5-6 years into our marriage, I began to feel a deep sense of resentment. It wasn’t just about the betrayal—it was the constant feeling of being overlooked, undervalued, and unappreciated. I tried to bury those feelings, to convince myself that I was just being overly sensitive, but the truth was, I couldn’t ignore them anymore.

As the resentment grew, I started to crave attention from other men. It wasn’t about looking for an affair or seeking anything physical—it was the simple desire to feel seen, to feel wanted, to feel like I mattered outside of the role I had taken on as a wife and mother. The more I tried to ignore it, the harder it became to push those feelings aside. I found myself seeking out small moments of connection with others, whether it was a flirtatious comment or just a glance that made me feel desirable again.

I hated myself for it, but in those moments, it felt like the only way to remind myself that I was still me—a woman, not just someone’s wife. The desire for validation, for recognition of my worth, started to consume me. I felt lost, torn between trying to salvage the life I had built and the need for something more—something that could make me feel alive again.

And now, here I am, questioning everything. I love my children, I’ve built a family, and I’ve been through so much. But I wonder if I’ve stayed in this relationship for the right reasons or if I’ve been too afraid to face the reality that I deserve more. The resentment I’ve been holding onto is heavier than I ever imagined, and I’m left wondering if it’s too late to change the course of my life—or if it’s even possible to find the happiness I’ve been searching for all along.