I am exhausted in a way that goes deeper than tired. Today was one of the hardest days I can remember, and I need to write it down so I don’t let anyone — including myself — rewrite what actually happened.
This morning I reached my limit. Not because I’m controlling. Not because I don’t let him have fun. But because I have been carrying three jobs — my engineering work, my cleaning business, and him — while he has spent nearly every day for two weeks hunting, snowboarding, watching YouTube, doing what he loves. I have not complained once. I packed his lunches so he could stay out longer. I supported his dream of having an outfitter. I gave him freedom I never even got credit for.
Today the fight started because I told him how exhausted I am. I told him I need help. And I told him how much it hurts that two people in my family have asked me if I’m engaged — because I told them last month I thought it was going to happen — and I don’t know what to say to them. That was what broke me open today. Not control. Not punishing him for having fun. Grief. Exhaustion. And a broken promise I didn’t even know was broken until it was too late.
I also asked why he came home early from snowboarding — not to punish him, but because I assumed he was staying out longer and was surprised. That got twisted into proof that I control him.
Then I asked for help with the trash, the dishes, the meat in the fridge. And it became a war.
He told me I never let him have fun. He told me I only care about control. He told me I never cared about his feelings. He called my love bullshit. He said I’ve thought about leaving him for other men. He recorded me. He sent me videos of my worst moments. He told me his inability to set boundaries is my fault. He told me to pack my things and leave — again — knowing I have nowhere to go.
And then, when I was already broken, he told me again that he’s not ready to marry me.
This is not the third time. This has been going on for years and I need to write it all down so I never let anyone tell me I’m overreacting.
Two birthdays ago he gave me a promise ring and told people we were engaged. Then he changed his mind.
October — he changed his mind again. Instead of a ring, he bought hunting gear.
December — he said it would be really special over Christmas. Our Christmas got ruined.
March — he was going to take me to Florida and propose. That got moved to April.
April became May. We never went. I still have no ring.
He asked my mom. He told people himself. He built this dream in front of witnesses and then quietly let it collapse every single time, leaving me holding the wreckage and the embarrassment of having believed him.
And today he told me it’s my fault. That I shouldn’t have told people. That I gave him an ultimatum.
I didn’t give him an ultimatum. I believed him. Because he told me to.
He knows how much marriage means to me. He has always known. It is not a secret. And instead of honoring that, he has used it. He kept me hoping, kept me staying, kept me invested — and every time I got close to losing faith he would resurrect the promise just enough to pull me back.
A couple of months ago he told me I put him in debt because of the ring. Not the hunting gear he bought in October instead of proposing. Not the trips that never happened. The ring — the one that was supposed to be an act of love — became something I did to him. A burden I caused.
I know what I brought to this relationship. I know who I am in this. I am a woman who loved generously, worked hard, supported his dreams, packed his lunches, and asked to be chosen. That is not control. That is love.
Tonight I didn’t pack. I told him his words were empty. I held my ground.
But I am so tired. I hate this life right now — not because I want to leave it, but because I deserve so much more than this and I can’t yet find my way there.
I know God sees me. I know I am worth more than this. I just need to find the strength to live like I believe that.
I am not the villain in this story. I know that. I need to keep knowing that.
