I’ve been married to my husband for five years—we’re both 27. Whenever we fight, he resorts to name-calling and says things that are deeply disrespectful. I know he had a tough childhood and tends to shut down emotionally, while I’m more anxious and communicative. I’ve tried to understand his reactions, but it still hurts.
I’ve brought this up many times over the years, but it doesn’t change. I admit I’ve stooped to his level once or twice, trying to mirror back what it feels like, but it’s not how I want to be. I believe fights shouldn’t be free-for-alls. There should be boundaries, even in anger.
I’ve never seen a healthy marriage modeled around me—every woman I know has suffered through something like this. I’m asking: Is this just how it goes? Is there anyone out there in a long-term relationship who fights respectfully?
Let’s call this what it is: You’re in a marriage where the person who’s supposed to have your back is verbally tearing you down. And you’re starting to wonder if maybe this is just what being married looks like. Maybe this is what you’re supposed to expect.
I want you to hear me loud and clear: This. Is. Not. Normal.
It’s not okay. It’s not “just how men are.” It’s not something you need to get better at managing. This is a violation of your trust, your safety, and your spirit.
Name-calling isn’t fighting dirty—it’s not fighting at all. It’s cruelty. And it doesn’t belong in a healthy relationship, ever. Not in a one-time explosion, and definitely not as a pattern. And based on what you said, this is a pattern. You’ve had conversation after conversation. Nothing changes.
Listen, I don’t care if you’ve also said things you regret in those moments. We all screw up under pressure. The difference is that you’re reflecting on it, taking ownership, and wanting something better. That says a lot about you. What I don’t hear is any indication that your husband is taking responsibility or making real change. That’s a problem.
You don’t fix that by being more understanding. You fix it by demanding accountability.
You’ve told him this hurts you. For five years. And he still does it. That’s not miscommunication. That’s disregard.
And I get it—you grew up around women who suffered through this kind of treatment. When dysfunction is all you’ve seen, it gets baked into your understanding of “normal.” But let’s be really clear: pain may be familiar, but it is not love.
Let me ask you something hard:
What would you say to a best friend if she told you her husband calls her degrading names every time they argue? Would you tell her to stick it out, to just try harder, to wait and see? Or would you look her in the eyes and say, “You don’t deserve this”?
Now it’s your turn to hear it: You don’t deserve this.
A good marriage is not one where no one ever argues. A good marriage is one where even in the middle of the mess, there’s still respect. Still kindness. Still a deep understanding that the other person is sacred ground.
That’s not wishful thinking. That’s the minimum.
So what now?
You stop excusing this.
You stop waiting for him to suddenly become someone else.
You get real with yourself about what this is costing you—your peace, your self-worth, maybe even your identity.
Here’s your path forward:
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Find a counselor. Just for you. You need a place to tell the truth without sugarcoating.
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Set hard, unmovable boundaries. For example: “If you call me a name again, I will leave the house for the night. Period.”
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Follow through. No more threats. Only action. Boundaries without consequences are just wishes.
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Start rebuilding your picture of what love is supposed to look like. Read books. Watch healthy couples. Talk to people who have real, respectful marriages. They’re out there.
And if he refuses to change? If the name-calling keeps coming after all this time?
Then it may be time to choose something braver. Something scarier. Something that says, “I love myself enough to walk away from anyone who doesn’t.”
Because you are not a doormat.
You are not a punching bag for someone else’s anger.
You are a human being worthy of love that never has to come at the cost of your dignity.
You’re waking up. And waking up hurts—but it’s the first step to freedom.
Stand tall. You’re not alone.