'AITA for not taking my husband back and wanting a divorce?'
"AITA for not taking my husband back and wanting a divorce?"
This is my 3rd attempt to post something to reddit. First time I didn't space out the paragraphs. 2nd time it wasn't in a story format, So, if this doesn't work, I need more help than I think. I'm not an author, I just want help. and opinions! Lots of opinions!
I (42F) and my husband (44M) I’ll refer to him as “Jack”, have been married for 5 ½ years. We met on a dating site in January of 2020, met in person April 2020, he asked me to marry him while kayaking in May 2020, we got married in June 2020, and finally moved in together in August 2020.
There was a 2 ½ hour drive between us when we met. His license had been suspended so I was driving back and forth. I found out 2 years into our marriage that he could never get his license back and that he knew this prior to our marriage.
Jack had a seven year old son, whom I will refer to as “Matt” and I had a twelve year old son whom I will refer to as “Luke” because that’s what he asked me to refer to him as for this story. Matt was a professional at weaponizing incompetence. Which he learned from both his mother and father.
He had also been taken from his mother by the State while his father was in jail. Jack made it sound like he had had Matt with him for about 2 years post foster care before we met. Getting him out of foster care proved that Jack was able to do what needs to be done in order to get what he wants.
After about 3 years of marriage, however, I found out that it had been right about the time we met on the dating app that he got him back. I had been a single mom with Luke up until moving in with Jack. Everyone who knows Luke knows that he is polite, gives deference, very responsible, and that his Mom will hold him accountable.
Things were ok for about 3 months. Jack, Matt, Luke and I went on a family outing and decided to stop at an outdoor monument thing. It had many pictures, statues, ect., all with plaques you could read. Anytime Luke and I would go places with these things, we would take turns reading.
Matt liked to pretend he struggled with reading. He kept getting the easy stuff this way. Everyone would cater to him instead of forcing him to overcome and improve. I think I was the first person (and only person) in his life that said the bare minimum was not good enough.
He started to struggle with the word “AND” but I put a stop to it and he read. Jack, however, threw a very large, very public fit, walked away with his son and told us not to follow. I should have listened and left. This was the first time he threw his phone. Not the last.
Once knowing they were safe with a relative, I went back home, which was over an hour away. Again, I was the only driver. The relative brought them home the next day. Nothing was discussed about the incident.
In October 2020, I found myself not only pregnant, but also miscarrying that pregnancy. Jack also started hanging out at his friend’s house more. His friend, “TMI” was dying a self-inflicted, slow death caused by barely eating and only drinking beer.
Jack had to be there to support him first thing in the morning, before the boys got up for school, and wouldn’t come home until very, very late, like after the boys were in bed.
It took 2 years for TMI to die. Yes, this was the routine for those 2 years. Yes, I voiced my opinion. Yes, I got him to agree to have someone else spend one night a week with TMI so he could spend time with his family.
No, that never actually happened because the day someone could care for him, Jack had to go to work. This was when I realized it was not a TMI problem, it was a Jack problem. And shame on me, I stopped asking for help.
In August 2021 I had my daughter, I’ll refer to her as “Darling” because that’s my endearing name for her, not her actual name. She was 5 weeks early and had Down Syndrome. I did not know this ahead of time because I did not do that blood test they do to check for things.
The reason, is I had went through my pregnancy with Luke alone and they did that test and after the results came back, they said he was going to be deformed and I should abort him. The last prenatal visit was the final time they pressed for me to abort him.
He was born 12 days early with hypospadias. It’s where the hole is at the side of the hotdog instead of the tip. It took 2 surgeries to correct. To avoid this situation, however, I chose not to do that test.
When I was pregnant with Luke I had picked a boy name and a girl name. Because I had my boy, I wanted to use my original girl name which was MAGAN. I came up with the spelling in 2007. The new name for the boy was Jiminy, because I really like that name. Jack wanted new names. I chose a name that was a common theme for several girls in my family.
After he agreed to this name, after we found out she was a girl, after I put her name on everything, after the baby shower, but about a month before she was born, Jack’s sister tells me that her first name is the first name of Jack’s oldest daughter and her middle name was a letter off of Jack’s second daughter’s middle name.
I did not know Jack had other kids.
Darling was born in August and she and I spent 2 weeks in the hospital. 3 weeks later we go in for a cardio appointment and get admitted to the hospital for another 7 days.
From then on, no matter what the appointment was, I always packed a bag. We left the hospital with Darling being on oxygen. Jack, come to find out, did not change his routine during these times. Luke and Matt either fended for themselves or Jack’s mom stopped by to help out.
I never left Darling at home. Jack said that he didn’t want Luke (almost 14 now) to watch her and Jack was never there, so that left me with transporting Darling, her oxygen and her monitor all by myself. I purchased a used infant car seat caddy and Jack said I was just being lazy.
To add to the drama of 3 kids, around the time that Darling was put on oxygen, we got a letter addressed to Jack concerning his second daughter who was recently taken from her mother. “Kay” ended up moving in with us in January 2022 right after her 16th birthday.
To describe her character: Two-faced backstabber. Her therapist ripped ME up one side and down the other in front of her and her dad, because I “didn’t care about her dietary needs”. She told her therapist that she was lactose intolerant and a diabetic. Which she is neither of. No, Jack did not stand up for me.
BUT, being the person that I am, I took her shopping for food. Her favorite foods which she wanted and was the whole reason she fabricated this whole thing, she was no longer allowed to eat because of her “dietary needs”.
Also, she had bloodwork done to confirm that she had no specific dietary requirements. But after this store visit, she grudgingly said that maybe she wasn’t lactose intolerant or diabetic after all. DUH But I was never apologized to for the therapist’s rip, or for her lies.
So, now we have 4 kids. 16, 14, a month shy of 9, and 5 months. Well, that wasn’t enough. I ended pregnant again but also had another miscarriage around the 10 week mark. Less than a month later, I’m pregnant again. I did not have time to grieve. I became depressed and it was a really difficult time.
I struggled to keep the household in order. Luke was neglected. Kay and Matt put their dad against me at every turn. Darling needed so much attention and help. I hate morning sickness.
And of course, Jack found other things to do after TMI died, so he was still gone at the crack of dawn and didn’t come inside until after midnight. First thing he would do was make a bee line to the shower. Always.
Jack, come to find out, was smoking cigarettes, mary jane, math with an “e”, injecting the latter as well. He’d lie about it to my face even with proof in my hand. He started threatening to unalive himself if I left. And crying - OMG it was so annoying!!
He claimed that what he was going through was more than what I could ever understand and I needed to have pity on him and help him. But, of course, he didn’t want to help himself. So really, he just wanted me to tolerate what he did and not ask him for help, because he was just not able to do it right now.
January 2023, my son “Doodles” was born. 40 weeks. Full gestation. I signed for an epidural. I did not get it due to Jack throwing a fit and saying no. To tell a little bit of history, with Luke, my water was broke by the doctor at 7am and he was born at 7:23am.
With Darling, I was given a dose of dilaudid at 3:45am and at 4am I thought I was having an adverse reaction because the pain intensified immensely and she was born at 4:28am.
I went from a 3 to a here’s-the-baby with Luke in about 15 minutes and a 5 to a here’s-the-baby with Darling in about 20 minutes. The nurse had to run across the room in order to catch Darling because the doctor had not gotten there yet and the nurse had to go get another nurse for support because Darling was coming.
With Doodles, I was in active labor for over 9 hours with a half dose of dilaudid as the only medication. He came out black and blue due to the stress of delivery. Before going in, I could just feel this one was different and wanted the epidural.
If you’re wondering what Jack was doing? He was there for both. He was awoken at 4:15 for the delivery of our daughter 13 minutes later. For Doodles, he was irritated that the nurses wouldn’t let him sleep until Doodles was closer to being born (why should he sleep if I wasn’t able to even relax. Thank you nurses!)
So he went to the car and drove to get some stuff so he could disconnect from reality for a while before coming back and denying that he did anything but fall asleep in the car. The car was visible from my window and I watched it leave lol.
Just a note: 3 weeks before Doodles was born, I was in the hospital for another week with Darling due to a respiratory virus. I made sure that arrangements were set in order for my daughter in case I went into labor since my history says my child could come at any time. Jack was not available to help me or the 3 children who remained at home.
Now we have 5 children. Jack said that 24 hours after delivery was enough time and I needed to come home. My mom and his mom (who hated each other) were both with the 4 kids at my home while I and Jack were at the hospital, but Jack went home within a couple hours of the birth.
Doodles was born at 9pm. Jack went home before midnight with a ride from a girl he knew. I was released at 34 hours post partum so I could enjoy another night away from stress.
Within 2 hours of coming home, I was once again left alone with all the kids. Jack was not there when I arrived, his mom left almost as soon as I walked in the door and my mom left within 2 hours. I was expected to have dinner ready at 6. And the house was a wreck.
Moving on, Jack didn’t want any more kids and since I had insurance, I got spayed. I still wanted more kids. Birth control was not an option that was put on the table. Either I get spayed.
Another couple of notes, Jack looks Hispanic. Doodles came out with blonde hair and blue eyes. Jack’s mom is 100% Irish, Jack’s dad is 100% Hispanic. But somehow, Doodles can’t be Jack’s. January 2023 was the last month that Jack paid all of the bills for the house.
Jack made me stay at home with the kids and sabotaged my cars and cried and threw fits and threatened unaliving himself as well as saying that I was abandoning my kids if I seemed interested in getting a job.
Bills were paid by the child support I received for Luke from his dad and by the generosity of my great aunts (my late grandmother’s sisters). Household bills came to roughly $650/mo since we owned our house and included cell phones, car insurance, internet, gas, electricity, and water/trash.
May 2023, Kay took Matt with her the 3rd time she ran away. This time, they were found at a predator’s house who had been known to attack 10-13 year old boys and Matt was 10. Matt was sent to his mom’s for the rest of the time that Kay was with us.
I wanted Kay out and saw her as a threat, not just to Matt, but also to Darling, Doodles and Luke. Kay attacked her sister (her mom’s daughter) with a knife and that’s why she was removed.
December of 2023, less than a week before Christmas, I woke up puking and Jack decided he had things to do like always. Luke had a job, Matt was at his mom’s. Kay was home but wanted to go to her work where her friend had just started working and visit.
I said she couldn’t do that because she risked getting her friend fired. Mind you, she’s almost 18 now – 2 weeks shy. Darling and Doodles are both screaming in the living room where Kay sits, ignoring them, while I’m in the bathroom puking again.
She yells, “I’m going to go for a walk. What time do I need to be back?” At that, I reached my limit. I said, “Get the F-word out. Go do whatever you’re going to do. I don’t care anymore. You’re absolutely no help. Just get the F-word out!” She left.
She came back with the police. The officer said that she claimed I kicked her out. I explained to the officer what happened, he looked at Kay and said, “Is that what happened?” She said, “Yeah.” He said, “So what’s the problem?”
She screamed, “I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH HER!” Pointing at me. The cop waited for her to bag up what she wanted and took her to her mother’s. Jack didn’t get to say goodbye. He, of course, blamed me. Down to 3 kids. Life was good. I still had to deal with Jack and walk on eggshells whenever he was around, but all in all, it was ok.
April 2024, Darling almost died due to Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever given by a tick bite. Doodles could be in the room with Darling and I but only from 8am-8pm. My brother and his wife were willing to take Doodles overnight, but it wasn’t until after Darling was better that I was told the hell my sister-in-law went through during this time because of my son.
She would have to sit and hold him for up to 3 hours just to console him. EVERY. NIGHT. She waited to tell me because she didn’t want me to stress any more than I already was.
We had gotten a used couch that had bedbugs in it and so Jack said he would go home and take care of that problem while also being there for Luke. I thought that was an amazing suggestion and was telling everyone how he was starting to step up and do things.
After Darling was released we stayed in the area with my brother and his family for a few more days before returning home to find that the only person who had been home this entire time was my son, Luke. Where was Jack? Luke hadn’t seen him. Luke was 16, was driving himself to and from school and sports practices, staying out of trouble and answering when I called.
So, backtrack a little, I gave Luke my newer car, but I had bought Kay a used car that she picked out. I didn’t have the money to buy a used car for Luke like I had for Kay, so I started driving my crappier car and gave him my 2017 Jeep Renegade to drive because it had less problems.
We live in the middle of nowhere, and I didn’t want to have to worry about him braking down. Jack was angry about this because Luke got a better car than Kay. But Kay got to pick her car while Luke didn’t. So I don’t see the problem.
Anyway, When I got home from this hospital stay, I had to remove the couch, rip up the carpet, find a top flooring, and hope to God the bed bugs would go away. And because God is good, the bedbugs stayed in my and Jack’s bedroom only.
The couch that had brought in the bedbugs was in the living room. They weren’t in any other room in the house except that particular bedroom. Jack no longer slept in the house. I slept in the room with Darling and Doodles.
The bedbugs did not just go away, but they did not travel. It’s not that I just didn’t notice them either. The bites left by bedbugs caused such irritation on all of the kids, Jack and I. We would know! They waited to die off until Jack was out of the house. As of right now, we are 100% bedbug free and using that bedroom again.
I did the renovations, however I do have a picture of Jack and Doodle working on the floor together. I used to take cute pictures of Jack and the kids and show them off trying to prove he was a good dad. He was on the floor for maybe 2 minutes before he left the house again.
We got Matt back right before school started in August 2024. Oh joy. April 2025, Matt decided he was going to move in with Jack’s mom for the rest of the school year. Jack and I had tried and failed marital counseling twice and were working on round 3 when this decision was made.
And how it was made was that Matt left with his grandma on Friday for “the weekend” and on Sunday when I asked if she was bringing him back or if I needed to pick him up, I was told he wouldn’t be coming back to live with me.
My response, “That works. He has a dentist appointment on Monday. I’ll text you the address. And just so you know, I’m leaving Jack as soon as school gets out for the summer.”
The only issue with moving on and away was that Luke wanted to graduate from this school and he doesn’t graduate until May 2026. May 2025. 12th Doodles was diagnosed with autism at a level 3.
The 20th Jack was arrested for driving without a license, no tags on the vehicle, no insurance, etc.. 21st was the last day of school. 22nd Jack bailed himself out of jail – with what money? I have no idea but it was more than all of 1 month’s bills.
Because he showed up at the house, I left with whatever I had already packed. I told Luke to take the Jeep and go to his friend’s house since they had made plans for that weekend and we can meet up afterwards.
Now, it is January 2026. Jack and I have been separated since May 2025. I and my 3 children are living in the house we’ve been at for the last 5 ½ years. Jack does not want this house and has threatened to burn it down if I ever left him. Jack lives about 12 blocks away.
When we moved back in, we talked to a therapist to try to help us talk without screaming. Jack threw his phone at me in front of the therapist. This was the last time he threw his phone at me. (As another note, He has thrown his phone and other things at me many, many, many times.)
This is the part where I need help. Jack wants to work things out. He’s “trying”. I want to stand my ground, but I’m a pushover. He says that my standards are just too high. I was going to say some positive things about what he’s doing and such, but I can’t.
He still doesn’t have a job. He is currently on house arrest, but his house is perpetually cluttered and filthy. I mean, you can’t walk into his house without having to bring your knee to your chest to step over things.
Anyway, I have no proof of cheating, though many people in town swear they know he is with several people, but they can’t provide proof either. He swears he’s clean from the substances.
Is just being done enough to get a divorce? If so, How do I get rid of the guilt and shame of not being able to handle it? My 18 year old is ready to move on with his life. I have a 4 year old with Down syndrome and a 3 year old with autism. I don’t want to deal with Jack and his side of the family. But what can I do?
I can’t risk not getting a divorce because he would be able to come take the kids and if he doesn’t bring them back, I have no legal leg to stand on. But should I take him back to avoid this instead of divorcing him? I’m moving into my late grandmother’s house in June 2026 after my son graduates. It’s 4 hours away from this house.
Here’s what people had to say to OP:
Holy hell. I don’t even know where to start but no, you’re not the AH. Not even close. This isn’t “marriage is hard” stuff, this is straight up abuse, neglect, manipulation, and chaos. You didn’t fail at handling it.
You survived it for WAY longer than most people could. Being “done” is absolutely enough reason to divorce someone, especially someone who throws objects at you, threatens self harm, lies constantly, disappears, and puts your kids at risk. The guilt you’re feeling is basically conditioning.
He trained you to feel responsible for his mess. You’re not. Your kids need stability, not a grown man who refuses to function. Taking him back to avoid conflict would just kick the can down the road and keep everyone stuck. Leaving is the right move even if it feels awful right now.
I’m saying this as gently as possible but also very clearly. This man has been abusive for years. Emotionally, financially, verbally, physically throwing things is still violence. The fact that you’re even questioning if being done is “enough” tells me how deep he got into your head.
Yes. Being done is enough. You don’t need cheating proof, you don’t need him to relapse on paper, you don’t need a final blow up. You already have a million reasons. The guilt and shame come from trauma bonding, not from reality.
Also please don’t take him back to “protect” custody. That’s not protection, that’s gambling with your kids’ future. Divorce, document everything, and get legal help. You’re not weak. You’re exhausted.
No offense but if a friend told you this story you’d probably be begging her to run. You’re not divorcing him because you “can’t handle it”. You’re divorcing him because he made the environment unsafe and unstable for YEARS.
The shame you feel is society telling women to martyr themselves, especially moms. Screw that. You’re allowed to choose calm. You’re allowed to choose not walking on eggshells. You’re allowed to not want to deal with his family ever again. Taking him back won’t make things safer, it’ll just make them familiar again. Familiar doesn’t mean healthy.
Honestly reading this made my stomach hurt. You’ve been carrying literally everything while he just… existed and made things worse. You didn’t have a partner, you had another unpredictable problem to manage.
Standards too high?? Wanting someone to not throw phones, not vanish for days, not threaten unaliving, not use substances, not leave kids unattended, not sabotage your ability to work is not high standards. That’s baseline human behavior.
You don’t owe him another chance. You already gave him like 500. Your kids are watching this. Especially the younger ones. Peace is worth more than guilt.