I’m considering ending my marriage and need advice. My husband (42M) and I (38F) have been married a few years and have a baby daughter, but I’m deeply unhappy.
When we were newly married, one of my best friends passed away, leaving her 16-year-old son, Jacob, with no family nearby. I felt strongly about taking him in, but my husband objected, citing loss of privacy, financial stress, and not wanting the responsibility. Despite his objections, I ultimately made it a dealbreaker, and we became Jacob’s guardians. My husband reluctantly agreed but held resentment against me for years, even blaming our struggles on this decision.
Though my husband helped Jacob in many ways, he made it clear he felt forced, claiming I chose Jacob over him. This resentment has eroded our intimacy and trust, and he even stepped out on our marriage, blaming his depression on my actions. Now that Jacob has moved out for college, my husband seemed relieved, but when I said Jacob is always welcome back, he reacted angrily, reigniting the tension.
I’m torn. I feel like I followed my moral compass, but my husband says I disregarded his voice and family. Was I wrong to insist on taking Jacob in? Or is his ongoing anger and behavior unfair? I’m struggling to move forward.
You were trying to do the right thing. You looked at a 16-year-old kid, alone and grieving, and you stepped up when no one else would. That speaks volumes about your character. But stepping up doesn’t mean bulldozing. You made a decision that fundamentally altered your marriage without true partnership. Marriage is built on unity, not ultimatums. When you told your husband, “This is happening, or I’m out,” you didn’t leave room for the two of you to work through this together. You stripped him of his voice, and whether you were “right” or not, that move planted the seeds of resentment that have been growing ever since.
But let’s not stop there. Your husband’s response? Immature. Petty. Unfair. Instead of leaning into the hard conversations, instead of stepping up and working to repair the breach, he leaned out. He retreated, he blamed, and he even betrayed your trust. That’s not leadership. That’s not partnership. That’s someone prioritizing their own wounded pride over the well-being of the marriage.
And here’s the real gut punch: You both have legitimate wounds here. You wanted to honor your moral compass, to protect a vulnerable kid, and to do what felt like the right thing. He wanted to protect the life and plans he’d envisioned for your marriage. Neither of those are inherently wrong. But what’s tearing you apart now isn’t the decision you made back then—it’s the lack of healing and communication ever since. The unspoken anger. The blame. The stone walls you’ve both built around your hearts.
So, where do you go from here? First, stop trying to “win.” This isn’t about proving who was right or wrong. It’s about deciding what kind of marriage you want—and if the two of you are willing to fight like hell to get there. You’ve both let this resentment fester like an untreated infection, and if you don’t address it head-on, it will consume whatever is left of your relationship. That means therapy. Non-negotiable. And I don’t mean the kind where you go to check boxes and complain about each other. I mean the kind where you both get real, take responsibility for your own mess, and commit to rebuilding trust brick by brick.
Second, you need to redefine what “together” looks like. If you’re going to stay in this marriage, you can’t keep pulling in opposite directions. You can’t keep making solo decisions, and he can’t keep holding grudges while smiling through gritted teeth. You need to create a shared vision for your life that honors both of your voices.
Lastly, and I’ll say this plainly: If either of you is unwilling to put in the work, then you already have your answer. Because a marriage without mutual respect, trust, and effort isn’t a marriage—it’s a slow-motion collapse.
You’re at a crossroads. Either both of you step up, or you step out. But whatever you choose, don’t keep living in this half-life of resentment and regret. You and your daughter deserve better than that. And so does Jacob.