Living Between 'I Love You' and 'We're Done

 My husband has told me he hates me. He has told me we're done. He has brought up divorce. He has said, "You and me are over." The hardest part is that these aren't things said once in a moment of anger. They seem to come out whenever we have an argument, disagreement, or conflict of any kind.

What I struggle to understand is how someone can say those things and then tell me they love me so much. How am I supposed to believe both? To me, those two things don't go together. If you love someone, you don't immediately jump to leaving them. You don't threaten the relationship every time things get hard. You don't make the person you love question whether they'll still have a marriage tomorrow.

I have never once said anything like that to him. Not even close. No matter how hurt, angry, or frustrated I have been, I have never wanted to leave him. I have never looked at him and thought, "I'm done." My first instinct has always been to work through it, fix it, and stay.

So when he immediately goes to "We're over" or "I want a divorce," it leaves me wondering why that's where his mind goes. Why is leaving always an option for him when it never feels like an option for me?

The truth is, whether he realizes it or not, those words have consequences. They don't just disappear after the argument ends. They stay with me. They replay in my head long after he's moved on. Every time he says them, I feel a little less secure in my marriage. A little less safe. A little less certain that the person I love is choosing me the way I am choosing him.

Lately, I feel like I can't even open my mouth without upsetting him.

Tonight, I was folding laundry on the couch when he came over to talk about the pool cover and how we should handle it differently next time. I simply tried to offer another suggestion. Before I could even finish, he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh my fucking God."

How am I supposed to respond to that?

How am I supposed to keep talking when it feels like my opinion annoys him before I've even had the chance to express it?

It wasn't really about the pool. It was the feeling behind it. The feeling that he didn't want to hear what I had to say. The feeling that my thoughts weren't worth listening to.

A few days ago, I mentioned a business idea I've been thinking about. Instead of encouragement or support, the first thing I heard was a negative comment. Maybe he meant it as practical advice, but sometimes it's not about the words themselves—it's about how they are delivered.

I wasn't looking for someone to tell me all the reasons it wouldn't work. I was looking for a partner who believed in me.

Someone who would say, "That's a great idea. Let's see if it could work."

Someone who would be excited because I'm trying to create opportunities for our family.

I know not every idea I have is perfect. Some probably sound crazy. But my intentions are never selfish. I am constantly thinking about how to make life better for us. How to create more financial freedom. How to give our family opportunities we may not otherwise have.

Instead, I often feel dismissed before I even have the chance to dream out loud.

And after a while, that starts to change how you see yourself.

I look in the mirror lately and I don't recognize the woman staring back at me.

Am I really the hateful person he describes during arguments?

The woman who hates his kids?

The woman who thinks he's not good enough?

The woman who does everything wrong?

Because that's not who I believe I am.

I try so hard to make him happy. Maybe too hard.

And yet somehow I still feel like I'm failing.

What hurts most is that I don't think he understands how much I love him.

I love our life.

I love our routines.

I love eating dinner together and watching our shows at night.

I love going to bed together.

I love the comfort of knowing he's home.

I never thought I'd be the type of wife who genuinely enjoys spending so much time with her husband, but I do. I don't get tired of him. I don't get sick of being around him. Even on the days when we're struggling, I still want him next to me.

I still want to come home to him.

I still want to fall asleep beside him.

I still want the life we've built together.

People often say couples need time apart because they'll get sick of each other. Maybe that's true sometimes. But for me, having occasional time with friends or separate activities isn't about wanting distance. It's about maintaining balance. It's about having experiences that make us appreciate coming back to each other.

There is something special about missing your spouse.

About walking through the door after being apart and thinking, "I get to go home to my husband."

That feeling matters to me.

And maybe that's why all of this hurts so much.

Because despite everything, I still love him deeply.

I still see the good in him.

I still remember the way his eyes used to look at me.

Before he ever told me he loved me, I could see it there.

Now, sometimes I look into those same eyes and all I see is frustration, anger, or disappointment. Maybe that's not what he's feeling, but that's what I see.

And it breaks my heart.

Because the thought that my husband may not love me the way I love him is one of the most painful thoughts I've ever had.

I wish he could spend one day inside my mind.

Not to agree with me.

Not to take my side.

Just to understand.

To understand why his words stay with me long after he's forgotten them.

To understand why I can't simply "get over it" by tomorrow.

To understand why the pain cuts so deep.

The truth is, I've learned something difficult throughout my life: the people who say they love you are often the people who have the greatest ability to hurt you.

Family.

Friends.

Past relationships.

So many people I've trusted have let me down when I needed them most.

That's why words matter so much to me.

Because emotional wounds don't heal as quickly as people think they do.

I'd rather deal with a physical bruise than the pain of being hurt by someone I love.

A bruise eventually fades.

Words don't always.

Especially when they come from the person whose love means the most.

And maybe that's why this hurts so much.

Because underneath all the sadness, frustration, and disappointment is one simple truth:

I love him.

I always choose him.

I just wish he understood how much it hurts when I don't feel chosen in return.