Hello, I’ve been stuck for quite a while in a painful relationship dynamic where I feel unheard, emotionally dismissed, and increasingly unsafe, while my fiancé Jake avoids serious conversations and often shuts down or turns things into conflict whenever I try to talk about what is hurting me. Over the past two years, I have written him many letters trying to explain what is going on and how deeply this relationship is affecting me, so he should absolutely know by now, even though at times he says he "won’t read my shit."
Four weeks ago I gave him another sealed letter laying everything out as honestly and clearly as I could - he has opened it, but I don't know if he read it, or read it all, he still hasn’t said a single word about it.
I’d really like to hear what others would do in my situation: would you ask him about the letter, or give it more time? I’m not ready to burn everything down and leave just yet...
Thank you so much for just listening!
Here is the letter that explains the mess I am in (names changed):
Dear Jake,
I want to tell you how I am really doing — in regard to our relationship and my life situation. This is about me, about my feelings — this is not an accusation, a reckoning, or anything like that. That is not my intention. Please take the time to read this letter. I know it is long, but it is very important.
We have been together for almost six years now. Back then, I fell in love with you very quickly and very deeply. To me, our relationship felt like a dream. That deep feeling of connection shaped me profoundly, and it is one of the reasons why I held on to us for so long.
But even early on, I had the feeling that our relationship was not entirely equal. At times, I felt that my needs and boundaries were not really taken seriously. I felt overlooked and overruled. Even back then, there were conflicts that weighed on me and made me feel insecure.
Over time, a pattern developed: after intense conflicts, hurtful words, and withdrawal, there were always phases of closeness, attention, and care again. Those phases kept giving me hope that our relationship could become stable and reliable.
But the conflicts themselves were never truly resolved. Over time, more and more insecurity, tension, and emotional exhaustion built up inside me. For a long time, all the many beautiful moments kept me from seeing how much the overall situation was actually affecting me. I stayed because I love you, because I am deeply emotionally attached to you, and because despite everything, I still wanted a future with you.
Early Dynamics and Attachment
Forty-three days after we got together, you asked me if I wanted to marry you. That caught me a little off guard, but at the same time it made me very happy. To me, it was a clear sign of commitment — that you were choosing me and wanted a future together with me.
That played a major role in why I believed in the seriousness of our relationship, and maybe also why I made certain decisions too quickly — like giving up my apartment so early — because I truly believed in that shared future.
Later, the subject of marriage completely lost its importance for you. Now you seem annoyed or avoidant whenever it comes up. Remarks like, "I’m not stupid enough to marry her," or "She still has to prove herself," hurt and humiliated me deeply. Maybe you meant it as a joke, but to me it feels like punishment.
It hurts me that I do not carry your name. Every time I see it, I feel a stab in my heart. I truly wanted to become your wife. I wanted to belong with you and have a secure place by your side. If I had known early on that a committed relationship was not truly something you seriously wanted, I probably would have made different decisions. Today, I often feel unloved, unwanted, and unwelcome.
Painful Communication Patterns
One of the hardest things for me is how our conversations often go when it comes to my feelings. As soon as I bring up something unpleasant, your mood often changes very quickly. Defensiveness and rejection often come before you have really even listened.
When I say that I am hurt or sad, what I really want is for you to understand that and see me. Instead, I often experience attacks, defensiveness, and really harsh insults — sometimes even in front of other people. That strips me of my dignity and leaves behind shame, helplessness, and humiliation. To me, respect means not taking away the other person’s dignity — not even during an argument.
What cuts especially deep is when my feelings are dismissed as "drama," "crazy," or "too sensitive." Because of that, I begin to question my own perception. Being questioned like that over and over again has deeply damaged my self-confidence and self-worth.
Many times, it does not even turn into a conversation at all. Phrases like "I’m not taking that in" or "I’m not reading that shit" show me that my thoughts and feelings do not matter to you. Then I am left alone with unanswered questions, hurt, and despair. But conflicts do not disappear that way — they stay inside me and build up.
Even when I speak or write calmly and factually about a specific situation, I experience again and again that you immediately feel attacked and offended. Suddenly it is only about your hurt, and my actual concern gets lost. When you then say that because of my reaction you cannot talk to me, I begin to doubt myself more and more and withdraw — even though all I really want is clarity and connection.
After those conflicts, there are then phases of intense closeness again, strong declarations of love, and lots of attention. That sudden shift confuses me more and more — from hurt to closeness, without anything ever being worked through. I often no longer know what I can rely on, and I live in a constant state of inner tension.
I have become cautious. I avoid certain topics and swallow a lot just to prevent arguments. That costs me a great deal of energy and gives me constant knots in my stomach. I feel increasingly uncomfortable in our relationship and more and more unhappy.
Severe Escalations, Physical Violence, and My Own Part in It
There were situations between us that became physical. It is not easy for me to write this, but those experiences still affect me to this day. They escalated very quickly out of intense arguments. For me, they were deeply shocking moments that left physical marks and also affected me psychologically for a long time — with panic attacks, fear, and withdrawal.
I am aware that I did not always react appropriately either. When I was emotionally overwhelmed, I tried to hold on to you, even tried to hit you once, and I am truly sorry for that. At the same time, I experienced your intense physical reactions as very disproportionate and extreme. That left me with a deep sense of insecurity.
Because I already experienced years of physical violence in my marriage, situations like that affect me even more strongly and feel even more disturbing to me. They trigger not only current pain, but also old traumatic reactions that deeply shake my sense of safety.
Rigid Need for Control and Order
In daily life, I experience that you hold very tightly to your own routines and habits. Many things have to happen exactly the way you are used to them or planned them. Even the smallest deviations make you seem tense and irritated.
You often step in immediately, take over tasks yourself, or correct me with comments like, "Wait, I always do it this way." The way I do things is quickly described as "wrong" or "complicated." Because of that, I increasingly get the feeling that the way I do things, my ideas, or my perspective are fundamentally wrong or stupid.
If I do something differently or even question you, you often react angrily or irritably. To me, it feels as if even a harmless deviation from your routine is immediately understood as criticism of you or the way you do things.
By now, I am constantly tense, and even small decisions are becoming harder and harder for me. I feel watched and afraid of doing something "wrong" and triggering conflict.
When you keep correcting things that I have already done, it makes me feel as if my work is never right or good enough. Over time, that has left me with real insecurity. What hurts especially is that it comes from the person I love so much. I feel stupid and ashamed when you take things out of my hands. It feels as if I can never do anything right and am never good enough. Over the years, that has deeply damaged my self-confidence.
Low Frustration Tolerance in Daily Life
I experience situations again and again in which even the smallest mishaps or inconveniences trigger very strong outbursts of anger in you. For example, when your shoelaces get tangled, sauce from your burger drips onto your fingers, or butter slides off the knife onto the table, you often react with intense anger. Things get kicked or thrown, food gets hurled into a corner, and there is loud swearing.
These reactions come abruptly and without warning. What makes these moments so frightening for me is that the mood shifts within seconds. I never know whether your anger will stay with the situation or transfer onto me again. Sometimes I become genuinely afraid. It keeps me in a constant state of alertness — nervous, tense, and always on guard.
I try very hard not to make any "mistakes" and not to create tension. Because of that, I rarely feel truly relaxed around you. Even completely ordinary everyday situations often feel unsafe and unpredictable to me.
The House Purchase and the Beginning of the Decline
When you bought the house right at the beginning of our relationship, everything began to change noticeably. I moved in with great joy and hope, with the desire to build a shared, happy home with you. But shortly after moving in, the atmosphere changed significantly. Conflicts became more frequent, especially around your children. My observations or careful criticism — for example regarding disrespectful behavior or lack of help around the house — were immediately understood as an attack on you or your kids, which quickly led to arguments.
Several times, my words and actions were twisted, for example the claim that I had thrown shoes at Emma or had deliberately not picked up Lily. Situations like that hurt me deeply. I had to defend myself against things that never happened that way at all and were even repeated by them to others. What hurt even more was that no apology came even when it became clear that those accusations were not true.
Typical everyday problems with teenagers — thoughtlessness, selfish and disrespectful behavior, constant ignoring of agreements — increasingly weighed on you as well, and there were very frequent arguments between you and your children. But when I brought up my own stress about it during calmer moments, you downplayed it or dismissed it as normal teenage behavior — and instead accused me of lacking understanding.
At the same time, you idealize your children without exception. Because of that, there is no room at all to talk openly about difficult situations. My perceptions, wishes, and concerns often have no place, and I feel neither taken seriously nor seen.
What was also painful for me was that your teenager’s needs and wishes always took priority in everyday life, while mine were put last. You often explained that you were in an ongoing "war" with their mother and therefore had to be especially lenient and conflict-avoidant with your children. I could understand that in principle, but in practice it meant that my needs were never heard. Statements like, "Your kids always come first, no matter what. If you don’t like it, you can just leave," intensified that feeling.
From my perspective, disrespectful or hurtful behavior toward me was never clearly limited or corrected. Because of that, I began to feel unprotected and as though I did not really belong. Instead of feeling at home here, I often felt like an uninvited guest in an environment whose rules I was not allowed to help shape. Over time, I lost more and more of the feeling that this was my home too.
The Role of Your Adult Son in Our Everyday Life
I have thought long and carefully about the role your adult son plays in our everyday life. I know how important Logan is to you and how sensitive you are to criticism involving your children. I want to make it explicitly clear that I am not trying to insult you or him. I truly value and respect your bond and your sense of responsibility as a father. I do not want to put you in a loyalty conflict, and I never want to come between the two of you.
What I am explicitly not trying to do is take away your close relationship with your son. What this is about is how we as a couple can still have more room for our own relationship.
Because I feel very clearly that Logan’s close involvement in our daily life puts an enormous strain on our partnership. Our shared time is rarely really just our time. As soon as he shows up or calls — even when we are on vacation or have very intentionally planned time just for ourselves — everything changes. It feels to me as if our relationship instantly becomes secondary.
He often reaches out over small everyday matters — where something is, whether he can use something — things that a 22-year-old should absolutely be able to handle without you. When we are spending time together and his calls interrupt us, I always feel as if I get put on hold. I feel pushed aside and unimportant. That makes me sad, because I wish our time also had protected space and priority.
I also experience this as stressful in my own social environment. When I invite friends over with whom I want to have more personal conversations, I deliberately want you there because I feel safer that way. But when your adult son is there too, the atmosphere changes noticeably: conversations become more guarded, topics remain unspoken, openness disappears. On top of that, I want to decide for myself who gets insight into my life, my health, or my therapy work — and I have repeatedly experienced that things later get passed along to his mothers house.
When I ask for more boundaries in situations like that, you quickly assume that I want to exclude Logan. That makes me feel sad and helpless, because that is not my intention at all. What I am asking for are protected spaces for our relationship and our privacy. Several times, I deliberately planned things for times when he would not be there, and you still invited him anyway. That makes me feel as though my wishes carry very little weight and that my need for privacy is fundamentally unimportant.
Sometimes I feel as though I hardly have any privacy at all. Intimate moments and personal conversations often happen in Logan’s presence because he is so often there for everything. In addition, it happened several times that he came into my room or our bedroom without knocking while I was changing or still lying in bed. I experienced those situations as very embarrassing and boundary-crossing.
I know that Logan has no social contacts of his own and rarely makes his own plans, and that this is probably why you naturally include him in our activities — even when the atmosphere, age structure, or conversation topics are not really a fit for him. One example of this is the birthday celebrations of my longtime friend Pete, which happen to fall on Logan’s birthday. I understand that you want to be with him on his birthday, and I know that you mean well because he does not have a celebration of his own with friends.
I experience something similar, for example, at concerts or car shows. To me, those are very special moments of lightness — times when I simply want to be out and about with my man: laughing together, fooling around, feeling carefree, standing proudly by your side, and showing you off a little. I am aware that Logan is interested in those things too. Even so, I wish that sometimes those special occasions could simply belong to just the two of us.
When Logan is there, I feel a strong inner tension. I cannot move freely and constantly think about which personal impressions will later be passed on to others again. Even little things — a glass of alcohol or simply a carefree conversation — lose their sense of lightness for me. At the same time, your attention then turns strongly toward him because he feels inhibited and does not know anyone. That leads to me feeling excluded — exactly in the moments when I most want closeness with you. That makes me sad, because I lose a large part of the joy and quality of life that I actually want to share with you.
Again: this is not about excluding your son. It is about balance. To me, a relationship needs spaces in which two people can consciously spend time together without a third adult constantly being included. I started to try and avoid shared activities because I often already know that I will feel unimportant or secondary in them.
When I try to bring this up, you react irritated immediately and end the conversation by saying that I knew from the beginning that you had three children. Yes, I knew that — but when you say that, it only makes me sad because it completely misses my actual point. Of course I know your children will always be part of your life, just like mine are part of my life - and that is how it should be. But I did not think that your son, even as an adult, would remain so deeply involved in our everyday life.
I also believe that more independence would be an important and natural step — for Logan, but also for you. It would help him develop self-confidence and independence. And it would allow you to step out of the stressful role that, from the outside, looks less like guiding a young adult and more like taking care of a child. I truly believe that in the long run this could strengthen both of you and make you both proud.
Another issue for me is the distribution of tasks and responsibility in everyday life. Living together with Logan, I experience that things often only get done after repeated reminders or else end up landing entirely on us. I also do not see him independently taking on everyday chores like cleaning, vacuuming, cooking, or grocery shopping. I genuinely do many things around the house gladly, and I naturally take on many things for your son as well — but over time, that additional responsibility has become more and more burdensome for me.
At the same time, I see that you also support Logan in everything, even though your daily life is already demanding enough, and that you take on most things for him. Aside from the fact that I do not think that is healthy for his development, it also means that our shared time gets pushed aside yet again. Those little undisturbed moments as a couple are missing because so much of your attention and energy goes into tasks that Logan really could and should take on himself.
It also makes me sad that Logan’s appreciation and gratitude are never visible. When support is simply taken for granted and thanks or recognition are missing, it becomes harder and harder for me to stay motivated to keep carrying things for him in the same way.
I truly believe that more personal responsibility and independence would help Logan develop important social skills that he is still lacking, and help him understand what balanced living together should actually look like — namely that responsibility is shared and appreciation goes both ways.
Housing and Dependency Situation
The house we live in belongs only to you, and I have absolutely no legal protection there. Because of my financial situation, it was not possible for me to be part of it at the time anyway. Even so, since moving in, I have contributed regularly every month to the ongoing expenses within my very limited means.
I am very aware that you carry by far the biggest part of the financial responsibility and that in everyday life you pay for and handle most things. For that, I am sincerely grateful. I know that is not something to be taken for granted and that because of it, you make a great deal possible for both of us. Especially in my health situation, that means a lot to me.
I have tried several times to talk to you about this — not in the sense of ownership or money, because that is not what this is about, but in the sense of security. I need the feeling that even in difficult times, I am allowed to stay and am protected. I truly appreciate your saying that you "bought the house for us," but the feeling of insecurity still remains, because with my health and financial situation, I depend on stability.
Especially painful are statements like, "Then get the fuck out already," or "Pack your things and get out." In those moments, I become suddenly aware that homelessness could threaten me at any time. Because of that, a conflict no longer feels like a normal argument — it feels like an existential threat.
I also often think about what would happen if something happened to you. Your children would inherit, and I would immediately lose my home. That fear follows me constantly, keeps me awake at night, and has already driven me into panic attacks multiple times when you were away on business trips or on vacation and did not check in for a longer period of time.
A home should be a place where you feel safe. For me, it has increasingly become a place where I remain internally on guard. I monitor moods, avoid conflict, and make myself smaller so that I do not endanger my place there. Instead of security, there is this constant fear that everything could fall apart at any moment.
Escalation in October 2023
When Lily and Ryan entered into a "relationship," the situation between us changed dramatically. While I thought the news was ridiculous and temporary, you reacted immediately with intense anger and a strong emotional escalation. You made outrageous threats against my son and wanted to leave the house in that state with a baton. I could only stop you with great difficulty.
I want to be honest — that moment deeply frightened and scared me, because it was the first time I saw so clearly how quickly your emotions can turn into intense rage, fantasies of threat, and loss of control when you feel shaken in your role as a father or in the order of your family.
From my perspective, you blamed my son for the entire situation and spoke about him in a constantly very demeaning and insulting way — among acquaintances, family, and coworkers, as well as in my presence. For me, that meant an almost unbearable loyalty conflict: emotionally, I was standing between the man I love and my own child. I had the feeling that the situation was never worked through, but only discharged in blame and escalation, and then at some point buried in silence.
Then the situation finally escalated massively between you and your daughters as well, when you did not want Lily to go to Ryan on your time. Incredibly harsh insults were directed at you from both of your girls. Along with the verbal abuse, there were also physical scuffles. According to your account, you wanted to take away their phones. In the process, you were physically crowded, scratched, and kicked. You pushed the girls away from you, and there was also a reflexive slap. Your daughters then made very serious abuse allegations against you — including to a doctor at the hospital. Child protective services became involved. Only much later did it become clear that the allegations were not true and that your daughters withdrew their statements because they were made up.
I know how heavily all of that weighs on you too, and how much you suffer because your daughters hardly ever reach out to you on their own. It is unfortunate that afterward there was no shared pause. No calm conversations together about how you were doing, how I was doing, or what all of this did to our family. I believe that could have helped all of us regain trust in our family system.
For me, there was nowhere near enough processing of the incredibly severe accusations your daughters made against you, and because of that an unbearable heaviness remained. Those events still stand between us to this day — they deeply shook my trust in your daughters and left behind a lasting tension.
Breach of Trust in June 2024
When I saw the chat between you and the other woman, something inside me fundamentally changed; something was permanently damaged. I felt that there was a strong emotional connection between the two of you. I know that you may still see it differently. But that is exactly how it felt to me — and still feels to this day.
Your familiarity with her, that intimacy, and your strong expressions of longing and affection in those messages hurt me very deeply — also because those are exactly the things I miss so much from you. What was even harder for me to bear was how dismissively you spoke about me, and that our relationship is "so exhausting," that it "suffocates" you, and that you feel "constantly watched and restricted" by me.
While I believed we were fighting through difficult times together with our children, you were apparently finding ease, understanding, comfort, and closeness somewhere else. It became very painfully clear to me at that time that I am not simply the person you naturally turn to first with your thoughts and feelings — because you called her immediately after I confronted you about the chat. I felt so unbelievably stupid and worthless, because until then I had truly believed that I was.
What also hurt me was that you even spoke so dismissively to that woman about my son and portrayed your daughter as innocent. But what hurt me most came afterward. When I tried to talk to you about it, I did not want a fight. I simply wanted to understand. I wanted you to realize how deeply this hurt me. Instead, my feelings were dismissed as exaggerated or imagined. Statements like "You’re crazy" or "You’re imagining things" hurt and humiliated me.
At some point, that made me start doubting myself. What I wished for so much was simply for you to say, "I see that I hurt you, and I’m sorry." Nothing more. Just something simple. Not as self-condemnation, but simply as recognition of what happened. A sincere apology and taking responsibility would have helped rebuild trust.
Since then, a deep insecurity and despair have not let go of me. My mind keeps circling around the same questions. I feel unloved, worthless, and replaceable. I have nightmares in which loss and betrayal keep appearing over and over again.
I am permanently tense, restless, and weighed down by a deep sadness. And I notice that I no longer trust you, because the feeling has remained that I am alone with my pain.
Severe Chronic Illness and Its Consequences
As you know, I have been suffering from ME/CFS since May 2022. Even the smallest physical, mental, or emotional stress worsens my condition, and every activity can trigger a "crash" that lasts for days or even weeks.
Because this illness is invisible and poorly understood, those affected often experience misunderstanding and stigma. I often feel helpless, worthless, and invisible, left alone with an illness that has already taken everything from me: my energy, my joy in life, my work, and my sense of belonging in this world.
My daily life is defined by very little energy, severe pain, and rapid exhaustion. Rest, reliability, and emotional safety are not extras for me — they are basic requirements. Stress affects me physically right away: worse sleep, more pain, and days of severe loss of strength.
Impatience, doubt, or dismissive remarks hit me far harder than they might hit a healthy person. They force me to justify myself, even though I am the one who is suffering the most. What hurts me especially is the feeling that even you — the person closest to me — sometimes do not really take my illness seriously or underestimate how strongly it limits me.
What I still wish for is your understanding of my limits and my weakness — and the feeling that you are by my side, with the reassurance that I am still enough even with this illness.
Early Wounds and Why Some Things Affect Me So Deeply Today
I want to try to explain why certain situations between us affect me so deeply and why I can only bear some situations with great difficulty. You know that I was born extremely premature at 26 weeks of pregnancy. I weighed only 930 grams and was 29 centimeters long. My twin brother was a little larger and heavier, but both of us were very sick children.
We spent the first months of our lives in incubators in intensive care. Back then, medical conditions for premies were very different from what they are today. There was very little direct human contact; parents were only allowed to touch their babies through the built-in rubber gloves of the incubator. That helps explain, among other things, why physical closeness, touch, and tenderness mean so much to me today.
My parents separated shortly after we were released home from the hospital. My twin brother was constantly sick; it became clear early on that he had a severe chronic illness. My mother took care of him almost exclusively. As an adult, I can see that a severely ill child needed a lot of attention. But I was also just a small child. And from that child’s perspective, it mainly meant one thing: I was constantly alone.
I remember often waking up alone in the apartment in the mornings — my mother had gone back to the hospital with my brother. The feeling of being alone and not knowing whether or when someone would come back became deeply imprinted.
My brother spent a lot of time in hospitals, often for weeks at a time. Back then, siblings were not allowed on the children’s ward. So I would sit somewhere in hallways or stairwells forever, waiting while my mother stayed with my brother. All the relatives brought him gifts and worried about him. Nobody asked about me, nobody brought me gifts. I was there — but invisible. The feeling of being overlooked, never important enough, and left alone with my needs has followed me my entire life.
I often wandered around alone for hours in the stairwell or in the hospital garden and cried because I felt so abandoned. I often wanted to run away and never come back. I even wished I were seriously ill too, just so that someone would finally take care of me as well.
I experienced repeated se*ual abuse when I was four years old. Even though I told my mother about it, she did not protect me. That experience is one of the deepest wounds of my life. Not only the abuse itself, but above all the feeling that I needed help and still no one was there for me. That permanently changed my sense of safety and trust.
When I do not feel seen or taken seriously by you, when my feelings and thoughts are rejected, devalued, or ignored, then for me it is not just a current argument. It touches something very old and very painful that has never been able to heal.
When I say that something hurts me or makes me sad, what I actually want is simply for you to pause for a moment, look at me, and take me seriously. That you do not immediately minimize it, dismiss it, explode, or push the subject away, but stay with me for a moment.
If instead there are insults, if I am portrayed as "drama" or "too sensitive," if you do not want to read my messages or simply do not respond to important questions, then that affects me very deeply. It feels as though a terrible old experience is repeating itself: I show my pain — and I am still not seen.
The same is true when you simply switch back after arguments and act as though everything is normal again. For you, a conflict may feel finished at that point. For me, it is not. I am still sitting right in the middle of the hurt. Without real processing, without responsibility, without a sincere apology, all of that remains inside me and builds up.
Maybe now you can better understand why your looking away and ignoring me affects me so deeply. For other people, silence may simply be silence, but for me it touches exactly those old experiences of abandonment, helplessness, and not being seen.
On top of that, my body has become very sensitive because of ME/CFS. My nervous system reacts strongly to emotional stress. Conflicts and ongoing tension do not just make me sad and desperate, they actually make me physically much sicker.
I am not writing all of this to blame you. I am writing it because I wish for you to understand why some things go so deep for me. Why I long so much to be seen by you, taken seriously by you, and emotionally held by you.
Trauma and Therapy Work
In day treatment, I spoke openly for the first time about the se*ual abuse I experienced as a child. That step was important, even though it was also very distressing. Memories and feelings that I had suppressed all my life resurfaced because of it.
What still affects me especially deeply to this day is that I was not believed back then. When I told my mother what her boyfriend at the time was doing to me, she accused me of lying and just wanting attention. That experience was burned into me very deeply. I felt so helpless, unprotected, and powerless.
Since working through it, I have had intense flashbacks, nightmares, and physical reactions like freezing or panic. Sometimes I feel like that helpless child from back then again. It is an additional burden that I sometimes have the impression that you have little understanding for this.
One specific example: On New Year’s Eve, I explained to you that party decorations trigger me because a traumatic experience from my childhood is connected to a decorated room. When you decorated anyway and dismissed my feelings with comments like, "That’s really ridiculous," and "This really needs to stop already," it deeply shook me and completely threw me off balance.
In recent years, I have begun to look more deeply at my own problems and made the decision to seek therapeutic support. I am in trauma therapy in order to build more inner safety and learn to regulate myself better in overwhelming situations. But I notice that certain dynamics between us often set me back significantly. When conversations escalate, when my boundaries are not seen, or when I feel devalued, the same feelings arise in me as before: shame, helplessness, fear, not being heard, or being rejected.
That creates a strong inner conflict: I am working on stabilizing myself, but I keep ending up in situations that tear open the old wounds again. That makes therapeutic progress considerably harder; I wish for more understanding from you.
Self-Reflection and Conclusion
It is very important to me to say that despite everything, I do not experience our relationship as mostly negative — quite the opposite. An important factor for me is that we share so many common interests and feel absolutely compatible in many areas, also because of our little "quirks" that connect us and complement each other so well. Because of that, in the many good and happy moments and phases, our relationship feels so light and carefree to me, so natural and unforced.
We share many preferences and enjoy doing things together or carrying out projects together, for example hands-on work or technical topics like our cars, motorcycles, or the camper van we are building out. In those moments, I feel a strong sense of connection and also teamwork, because not everyone works well together, but we harmonize and function very well together.
I often admire how much you can do and how naturally you tackle and solve things. I truly look up to you, and I love tinkering on things together with you. Maybe I do not tell you that often enough, but I am genuinely proud of many things you can do and of what you have built in life.
We can laugh a lot, fool around together, and feel very familiar with each other. When I am not doing well or when I am sick, I experience you as a loving, attentive, and very caring partner. Physical closeness and tenderness also play a very important role in our relationship. We both experience our se*uality as very open, fulfilling, and marked by strong mutual attraction.
You tend to show your affection and care more through your actions and practical support than through many words — and I see that. I experience you as attentive, helpful, and responsible. In many areas of my life, you have supported me and, through your help and also your generosity, given me stability and made my everyday life easier and lighter.
Many of the most beautiful and easiest moments of my life I experienced with you. All of that is incredibly meaningful to me and explains why, despite the painful dynamics, I still feel such a strong emotional bond with you. At the same time, it is precisely this mixture of intense closeness and recurring conflicts that creates an inner ambivalence in me. Because on the one hand, I long for emotional safety and a respectful way of treating each other, something I sometimes miss in our relationship. On the other hand, it is also very hard for me to let go of our relationship, because there are many moments in which we feel so connected.
I want to tell you where I stand. Because I am not only honestly asking myself whether a separation might be necessary, but also considering whether and how I might still learn to deal differently with certain traits or dynamics — of course only without completely losing myself in the process.
Because despite the painful things and despite major doubts, I still continue to wish not to give up on our relationship too quickly, but to look together at whether and how we can develop a more stable and respectful way of relating to each other.
However, lasting change will only be possible if there is also a willingness on your side to look and reflect on yourself. Without that mutual movement, it seems impossible to me to change the existing patterns in the long term.
I need your help and willingness, because my emotional and physical condition no longer allows me to simply keep enduring these painful dynamics. My illness reacts very sensitively to emotional stress, and so do my traumatic experiences. Constant inner tension is not something my nervous system can bear in the long run.
In the past years, I have often experienced that you push difficult topics away or sit them out instead of looking at them and working through them. I believe that is your way of dealing with uncomfortable feelings like guilt, shame, overwhelm, and loss of control. I can understand that to some extent — nobody likes facing those feelings — but in doing so, you are only standing in your own way.
Because I believe that this „looking away" has already led in your life to relationships slowly falling apart while you still felt everything was fine. I do not want you to be standing at that point again very soon, saying you never saw it coming.
That is why I am writing all of this to you so openly and directly. Not to provoke you or hurt you, because I never want to do that — but so that you truly know where we stand right now. I am asking you, Jake: you only need to look.
I have gotten help, and I want to try to understand my own unhealthy patterns better and I am already working on my part. But real change between us can only happen if both of us are willing to take responsibility for our behavior.
If you still want a future together with me, then I would very much wish for you to also look honestly at yourself, and that we get outside support together — for example in the form of couples counseling or couples therapy. Maybe a setting like that could help us break out of the same destructive patterns and learn to relate to one another in a way that is more respectful, safer, and more connected in the long term.
It would be a strong sign of seriousness and responsibility for me if both of us were willing to take that step, because I cannot carry this situation alone any longer.
Jake, please, it is not about changing you. It is about whether we are willing to change something together.
I love you ♥️
