I’m a 30-year-old man, and I have a job I don’t like. Every day feels the same, and I don’t see any value in the work I do. I’ve tried to find a new job, but I can’t even make it past the first round of interviews.
I can’t quit either, because I’m the only one in my family earning money.
At home, things aren’t any better. My wife (she’s 28) and I just don’t understand each other. I can’t be myself around her. She often complains that her life would be better if she had married someone else. During arguments, I sometimes say I wish I hadn’t married her either.
We’re talking about having a baby, but we barely have any intimacy. She says she wants to have sex, but her actions say otherwise. If I say I’m not interested, she accuses me of not being able to perform and still wanting a baby. She often puts me down, even in front of her friends.
I feel completely stuck. Sometimes, I just want to run away and never come back.
Every day feels like hell: I have a job I can’t stand, and when I get home, I have to deal with constant criticism and complaining from my wife.
I don’t know what to do anymore. Can anyone help?
I need you to hear it loud and clear: Bringing a child into a war zone doesn’t heal the wounds, it just gives the wounds a front-row seat. Kids don’t fix broken marriages. They amplify every crack, every jagged edge, and every word you can’t take back.
Now, let’s back up. I read your letter, and my heart hurts for you, man. You’re suffocating at a job you can’t stand, and when you drag yourself home, there’s not even a place to rest your soul. You and your wife are like roommates at best and combatants at worst—stuck in a cycle of blame, shame, and emotional grenades thrown at each other’s feet.
Here’s the deal: You’re not lazy. You’re not broken. You’re not a failure. You’re just exhausted. You’re carrying the weight of your family’s financial survival, and you’re running on fumes. That’s not weak—that’s human. But you cannot keep doing this alone.
Your marriage? It’s not healthy. You both know it. The scorekeeping, the put-downs, the “I could’ve done better”s—those are poison. You don’t feel safe being yourself around her. That’s not a marriage. That’s a hostage situation.
And the worst thing you could do right now is add a child to this mess because you’re both hoping a baby will change the script. It won’t. A baby magnifies the truth already in the room.
Here’s what I want you to do, and I need you to do it today:
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Draw a line in the sand. No baby. Not until you and your wife can look each other in the eyes and say, “I see you, I hear you, and I want to do the work together.” Until then, protection stays on.
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Find your voice. You need help—and that’s not weakness, that’s wisdom. Call a therapist. Call a trusted friend. Call someone who won’t just nod and say, “Yeah, that sucks,” but who will look you in the eye and say, “What’s the next right step?”
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Talk to your wife—really talk. Lay down your armor. Tell her how you feel—without blame, just truth. “I’m lost. I’m lonely. I don’t know how to fix this, but I can’t keep going like this.” If she’s willing to do the work, maybe there’s a future here. If not? You need to think hard about whether staying in this is the best thing for either of you.
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Take care of your soul. You need to reclaim even five minutes a day to breathe, journal, pray, whatever. Start building yourself back up from the inside out.
Listen—feeling trapped is real. But you’re not actually trapped. There are paths forward. They’re just scary and hard and full of unknowns. But you know what’s even scarier? Living the next 40 years like this and dragging another human into it.
You’re not alone. You’re not broken. You just need help, and you need hope.
Get both.