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Saturday, November 26, 2022


I’m envious of the relationship my child has with my husband and I wish my husband still treated me the same.


I love my child but I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy whenever I see him interact with my husband. I’d never fault him for it. He has the dad that every kid should have. The dad that lights up at the sight of you and will show up to every sports match and will schedule dad and son outings on the weekend.

The trouble I’m having is that it used to be me. I used to be the one that lit up my husband’s face. I used to be the one he’d make time to do things with. But I’m not anymore.

Before having kids I never was worried about being pushed to the sidelines. The love a parent has for their kids is a different type of love than they have for their spouse. And it is, but I didn’t realize there would be a cap on the quantity. There is no love left for me. I get the tidbits, the scraps, the leftovers.

We’ve been married for 16 years at this point. Didn’t even have our child until 10 years in. We had a strong marriage. We made time for one another. Went on dates. Had exciting, passionate, mind-mush inducing conjugal relations 3-5 times a week. Would greet each other with a smile, hug, and a kiss when the other got home.


Then around age 3, poof it was gone. Now when my husband arrives home, I get a placating pat on the back or kiss on top of my head while our child gets an excited open arms hug spin around while happily screeching “daddy!” If I try to give my husband a real kiss, he’ll turn his check and say he just got home and is stressed.

There’s no more date nights. We don’t live near family who could babysit and he isn’t comfortable having someone we don’t know super well watch the kiddo until they’re older.

And our bedroom activities are now 3 or 4 times a month. If I try to initiate, it’s a turnoff for him because I’m too forward and eager. I come across as desperate. So I wait. And wait. And wait, for whenever my husband remembers that I happen to be around and he should throw me a bone(r) every once in a while.

It’s not like we haven’t talked about it. There are no secrets. I try to be more understanding of his work stress and he says he’ll be more receptive towards my needs. That’ll last a week until going back to the status quo.

This morning I wake up and roll over to kiss my husband good morning and he puts a hand out to stop me, saying he’s busy on his phone with a work text. And he was, I read the text. But not one minute later our son ran into our room and jumped up. My husband immediately put down that oh so important work text to hug and snuggle.


So this is my life. Where I set a daily timer to allow myself to cry for 15 minutes when no one else is around. And every time I see my child’s face light up at the sight of his dad, I feel so much joy but also deep down I wonder why we both can’t be loved. I don’t have a cap on how much love I can feel or give.

My love language is physical touch and I feel duped. The epitome of the late-30s housewife cliche, whose husband is sick of her. I never knew a person could feel such vast loneliness while sitting less than three feet away from someone who vowed to spend the rest of their lives together.

This freaking sucks.

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