Should You Fight to Save Your Marriage?

When the person you love changes so completely, they become unrecognizable.

It’s said that change is the only constant in life.

But what happens when change cracks the very foundation of a marriage you thought unbreakable?

When the person you love changes so completely, they become someone you no longer recognize.

Should you fight to save your marriage, even if it feels wrong?

Turbulent Shifts

The force of my husband’s changes hit me with the strength of a hurricane.

For two decades, I believed our marriage could withstand anything. With nine children and a lifetime of memories tightly woven between us, I thought we’d beaten the odds.

But somewhere along the way, he took a turn.

I thought I knew the man who vowed to love me through thick and thin. But out of nowhere, he cast aside the moral codes once guiding him. He viewed his commitments with nothing more than casual indifference.

Staying married was no longer something he felt to do.

“Life is meant to enjoy — you only live once,” he declared as though nothing else mattered.

But does that mean you just drop your obligations without a second thought?

Apparently, for him, it did.

Cracks in the Foundation

The day he said those fateful words, “I no longer want to be married,” marked the beginning of a year of hell and uncertainty.

A year that tested every ounce of strength within me.

Our marriage wasn’t perfect, far from it. But our family — our history — made letting go seem impossible.

We’d always stood side by side; it was us against the world.

He firmly believed in staying married; he never wanted his children to suffer because of a divorce. Anytime he heard about a man cheating on his wife, he’d always repeat his famous phrase:

“He’s going to end up alone as an old man, living life like a stray dog.”

Yet, seemingly overnight, he dropped his most sacred beliefs like a snake shedding its skin.

Behind Closed Doors

The night he told me he no longer wanted me as his wife came from nowhere.

“We’re going to stay married until I’m ready to leave. When the time is right, I’ll let you know,” he said.

He swore me to secrecy — nobody could know what was going on in our life.

It was our business, and no one— not even our kids, needed to know. It was my own fault; I should’ve been a better wife.

I knew in my heart what he was saying was wrong.

I’d done everything in my power to make our marriage good. To make him happy. Over the years, I’d slowly given up myself to make him complete.

Everything about him had changed; he was no longer a family man — and mocked those that were.

Late nights out working, club music constantly blared from his speakers, and a new designer wardrobe fitting for someone half his age. It was as though he was trying to escape from who he once was and leave us behind.

Sucker-Punched

When he told me we were staying married until he was ready to leave, I held hope it was just a phase, a midlife crisis we could make it through.

So I kept it quiet.

I tried to be understanding, to give him the space he seemed to need. But the divide between us grew wider.

He was searching for something I couldn’t provide, a rekindling of youthful days gone by.

I became an inconvenience in his new way of life.

The new and improved version of him viewed me with disgust. He constantly commented about my age, saying older women aren’t the same as when they’re young — they don’t have as much worth.

“Una mujer es como una flor, florece en la mañana y se marchita en la tarde.”

[A woman is like a flower, she blooms in the morning and withers in the afternoon.]

He told me to stop being lazy and get a physical job, so I know what real work is. Looking at younger attractive women with lust in his eyes became the norm. He said I never should’ve had kids — I didn’t know how to be a mother.

My husband knew all my vulnerabilities, my weak points — and went after them relentlessly.

He blamed me for the fall of our marriage, said I should’ve done more to keep him — I’d lost a good man.

And still, I kept quiet.

Masked Misery

Nobody knew — the kids, my friends, our parents. We went on trips and lived life as though nothing had changed.

But everything had.

That year, my world fell apart. I took on and believed in his blame and shame.

I isolated myself from friends and family. I put everything I had into trying to do and be better — in the hope he’d realize what he was losing.

I held onto the hope I could fix us and help him find his way back.

That the real him would resurface.

But instead, he chose to focus on himself. He learned Portuguese (I later learned it was for his Brazilian affair), hit the gym religiously, spent hours on the phone, and made Sundays his day.

At home, he checked out completely.

I was fighting a losing battle. His transformation was painful to watch. His new life captivated him — his desires took precedence over everything.

The days turned into months that somehow became a long, painful year.

My hope and belief in myself was gone.

Bearing the Blame

I wrestled with feelings of inadequacy, wondering what I could have done to prevent this unraveling. The weight of his blame and shame weighed heavily on me; it was a burden I struggled with every day.

But realizations began to emerge.

I’d clung to our marriage throughout that agonizing year, hoping for a change that never came. It became clear that he welcomed his transformation, and I needed to accept I couldn’t fix it.

The strength I’d buried beneath doubt and despair began breaking through.

I could only change myself, reclaim my worth, and rebuild a life that didn’t revolve around his approval.

Unhealthy Ties

As the fog lifted, I saw his actions for what they were: a reflection of his own struggles and insecurities. Belittling me was a way he could maintain control.

His dismissive words and wandering eyes were about his character, not a measure of my worth.

He violated all the values we once shared. As a child, I watched my mother endure physical abuse over and over again. I swore I’d never tolerate that from a man.

I’d always kept my promise to myself, but abuse wears many disguises.

I needed to stay true to myself.

Breaking the Chains

I made the decision to stop living in his shame. I called my friends and family — his family — and told them what was happening.

Breaking the silence was the determining step that broke me free.

I was no longer willing to tolerate this; my kids needed me to be strong. I reconnected with friends and family, leaning into their support to piece myself back together.

Looking back, I don’t know how I tolerated that year.

It was a year of slow, steady burns. Instead of protecting myself, I was more concerned about protecting our marriage.

Letting Go

Ultimately, it was no longer healthy — he needed to leave. He still wasn’t ready to leave; it was working for him. But it was time for me to let us go. Our marriage was no longer worth the fight.

I filed for divorce.

And so, with a heavy heart but determined spirit, I stepped toward my new life. Though the path ahead was uncertain, I felt hope.

No longer defined by his choices, I embraced my own strength.

As much as that year of hell hurt me, it helped me too.

I’d clung to what was — what I knew, even when it felt wrong. But there’s a price to pay when we don’t stay true to ourselves.

Knowing our boundaries and what we will and will not tolerate matters — no matter the stakes or potential loss.

Unite or Untangle

While it’s true that change is the one constant in life, it’s important we honor our inner voice; it’s there to guide us.

Perhaps for my former husband, this change was exactly right for him. I held on for the sake of our family — our kids, even though he was someone I no longer recognized. I thought he was worth the fight.

Though with each passing day, I saw that fighting for my marriage wasn’t right for me — letting go was the only answer. It was an eye-opening year that reminded me who I am — and for this, I’m grateful.

People change, especially over the span of two decades.

And either you navigate those changes together, or you reach the point of no return. We shouldn’t have to give up who we are to make it work — it’s important we stay true to ourselves.

To know our worth.

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