You run a household, a career, maybe a team of people who depend on you to have the answer.
But somewhere between the front door and the dinner table, something changes.
Maybe it’s the silence that sits a little too long after you ask him something simple. Maybe it’s the conversation you keep having, the one that starts about the dishes or the calendar and somehow always ends in the same place. Maybe you’ve caught yourself thinking, I can’t stand the person I turn into the moment I walk through my own front door, and immediately felt guilty for thinking it.
You’ve read the books. You’ve tried the date nights. Maybe you’ve sat across from a counselor together, said the hard things out loud, and felt closer for a week or two before it faded.
You keep wishing somebody would explain what he actually hears when you talk to him. You just want one night where neither of you mentions work, or the kids, or what’s broken.
If any of that sounds familiar, you’re not imagining it. And you’re not the only one carrying it.