We’ve been married for 10 years now, but those early years were anything but easy. When I think back to how we started, I remember a young couple filled with hope, love, and the belief that we could weather anything together. But life has a way of throwing curveballs, and for me, the hardest ones came in the form of my husband’s infidelity and mistreatment. The betrayal was unbearable, but at that point, I was still so young, so desperate for love, that I convinced myself that forgiveness was the only way forward.

I tried to move past it. I convinced myself that I was strong enough to let go of the hurt, that I could build something new with him. We had children, and like any family, we experienced both joy and struggle. I worked hard to create a life for us—making our home warm, keeping the family together, and always putting the needs of others ahead of my own. But deep down, something was broken. The trust that had been shattered never fully healed.

As the years went by—around 5 or 6 years into our marriage—the resentment I had buried began to creep up. It was like a heavy weight in the pit of my stomach, always there, always present. I started to feel invisible, overlooked, and unappreciated. The constant emotional toll of trying to forget the past while moving forward began to wear me down. I wanted to feel seen, wanted, and cherished. I wanted the spark I had once felt, not just with him but with life in general. And as time passed, I realized I hadn’t been given the space to feel that in my marriage for a long time.

That’s when the thoughts started. The urge to reach out to other men, to seek the attention I wasn’t getting at home, became an overwhelming temptation. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It wasn’t even about the idea of cheating; it was about feeling something, anything, that would remind me I was still desirable, still valued.

I hated myself for having those thoughts, for wanting something outside of my marriage. But they consumed me. Every glance, every conversation with someone who made me feel seen, felt like a small breath of life in a relationship that had suffocated me for so long. I tried to push the thoughts away, to focus on my family, my responsibilities—but the resentment kept coming back, stronger and more insistent each time.

The hardest part was knowing that these feelings weren’t just a reaction to his infidelity. They were a symptom of a deeper issue—the feeling of being invisible, unappreciated, and neglected. And as much as I tried to pretend everything was fine, it wasn’t. I realized that forgiveness, while necessary for moving on, didn’t come with the promise of healing.

I’ve stayed in this marriage for so long, convincing myself that I was doing the right thing for my family, for the children. But I’m left wondering, after all these years, if I’ve lost something in myself along the way. The woman who once dreamed of a partnership built on mutual respect and love has been replaced by someone who feels trapped by her own choices. I still love my children with all my heart, but part of me is lost in the resentment, in the unspoken pain that’s been building for so long.

Now, I’m standing at a crossroads, uncertain of the future, but desperately needing to find myself again. The path I’ve taken hasn’t been easy, and I’m not sure what the next chapter will look like—but I know I can’t keep ignoring the woman inside of me who’s been crying out to be seen, loved, and valued once more.