After 10 years of marriage, I can’t ignore how things have changed. In the beginning, I was full of hope. I imagined a love that would withstand anything—life’s challenges, the ups and downs of time, and everything that would come our way. But the reality of marriage, at least for me, didn’t turn out the way I had imagined. My husband, the man I had dreamed of building a life with, wasn’t always the person I hoped for.

There were the small things at first—disappointments that didn’t seem so big, but over time, they grew. The moments when I’d feel left out, overlooked, or dismissed. But then came the betrayal. The infidelity. He cheated on me, and the trust that I had placed in him was shattered. I was young, and I tried to convince myself that love could conquer everything. So, I forgave him. I was determined to move past it, thinking that if I could just hold on, things would get better. But the cracks in the foundation of our marriage only widened as time went on.

We tried to rebuild. We had children together, built a family, and continued on, doing what we could to maintain the appearance of a happy home. But the truth was, every time I forgave him, something inside of me began to die a little. I tried to bury it, tried to convince myself that love was enough to heal all wounds, but by the time we reached the 5-6 year mark, it became clear that I was holding on to something that was no longer there.

That’s when the resentment started to build. It wasn’t just about the affair—it was about everything that came with it. The feeling of being neglected, of having my love and devotion taken for granted, of giving so much of myself while being met with indifference. I began to feel invisible in my own marriage, like my needs were secondary to everything else in our lives. And no matter how hard I tried to shake the feelings, the resentment festered.

That’s when the thoughts began—the thoughts I couldn’t ignore. The urge to reach out to other men, to feel seen, desired, and appreciated. It wasn’t about wanting to cheat, but about wanting to feel valued again, like I wasn’t just the person in the background, keeping everything together while my needs were left unmet. Those thoughts became a constant pull, a temptation that never seemed to go away. I would tell myself it was just a passing phase, that I needed to focus on my family, on my responsibilities—but the pull grew stronger.

I hated myself for it, but at the same time, I understood why I was feeling this way. I had given so much, sacrificed so much, and yet, I felt like I was drowning in a marriage that was no longer fulfilling. The thought of reaching out to someone else was not about seeking love or replacing my husband—it was about seeking validation, something that reminded me that I was still worth something beyond the role I had taken on.

I still loved my husband, and I still loved the life we had built. But somewhere along the way, I had lost touch with myself. The woman who had been full of dreams, aspirations, and self-worth had been buried beneath layers of resentment, disappointment, and unspoken pain. And now, I’m left trying to figure out how to move forward—whether to continue trying to fix a marriage that may be beyond repair or to face the truth that I’ve been sacrificing my own happiness for too long.

The hardest part is knowing that I’ve allowed my desires, my worth, and my identity to be overlooked for so long. I don’t want to keep living in a place of silent resentment, always wondering what might have been. But more than that, I want to feel like I matter again. I want to feel desired, valued, and loved—not just as someone’s partner, but as the woman I am.