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The original was posted on /r/twoxchromosomes by /u/QuestionEquivalent62 on 2023-09-12 13:39:29.

I am always fine.

I am always fine…

I’m mature, I’m calm, I don’t say what’s on my mind, I don’t shout, I don’t break down walls.

I was married for 7 years to a man who had excessively violent meltdowns. Think police, yelling, breaking objects, walls.

A few months ago, I decided I couldn’t take it anymore; it was over.

Since then, I have fallen in love again. I did everything to make the transition with the children and the ex smooth; I tolerated his mood swings, I supported him.

Then this weekend, he had a huge tantrum. He began to air his feelings on social media, calling me names and accusing me of trying to ruin his career by preventing him from picking up acceptable laundry from the house. Without mentioning that if I blocked his access, it was because he had such a violent tantrum that the neighbors called the police, that he broke down the wooden fence, a door, that he shouted that if we stole his family and destroyed it, well, he was going to destroy us, no one could have me, etc.

When I opened up to my loved ones about the fact that I was terrified that evening, that for a few minutes, I sincerely believed that if he managed to get into the house, the little ones and I were going to die.

I don’t know if he would have done it; I keep telling myself no. But I was terribly afraid.

And I get responses like: -You know him.

-Be empathetic and put yourself in his place; it’s hard for him.

-Think about his emotions.

-Don’t get angry with him.

-He’s the father of your kid.

But why isn’t he expected to think about me? The mother of his children. Why am I the one who has to be the bigger person? Again.

Worse, in truth, I find it so heavy to carry the weight of his behavior and to have to care for him, without having the impression that no one cares for me. That I don’t have the right to collapse. I have to be this strong woman, this rock of stability and self-control.

I just feel like something is breaking inside me. More and more often, I come to tell myself that I am so happy and kind all the time, and that I take care of others; I could well be dying, and no one would realize it.

I just need someone so much to let me be angry without telling me to think of others, to give me room to be selfish a little in my suffering.

I’m sad.