I’m a full-time mom. About a year ago, I left my job to take care of our three-year-old daughter, who is autistic and requires a lot of support. Lately, I’ve noticed that my usually feminist husband has been criticizing me in a group chat.
Transitioning into the role of a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) wasn’t something I had envisioned for myself. I used to thrive in the fast-paced world of marketing, surrounded by campaigns and fueled by brainstorming sessions over coffee. But all that changed a little over a year ago when my husband, Jake, and I made a significant decision. Our daughter, Lily, who is three and autistic, needed more attention than what her daycare could provide. Her needs are complex, requiring constant care and support, and it became clear that one of us had to be with her full-time.
I won’t sugarcoat it — leaving my career behind was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever made. I miss the freedom of earning my own income and the satisfaction of a job well done. But here I am now, spending my days planning meals, cooking, and baking. I’ve found joy in these tasks, and experimenting in the kitchen has become my new creative outlet.
Our backyard has turned into a small garden oasis under my care, and I take care of most of the household chores. Jake does his fair share too; he’s actively involved in chores and parenting whenever he’s at home. We’ve always considered ourselves equals, rejecting traditional gender roles, or so I thought until last week.
It was a regular Thursday, and I was tidying up Jake’s home office while he was at work. It’s filled with tech gadgets and piles of paperwork, typical for someone in software development. His computer screen caught my eye — it was still on, casting a soft glow in the dim room. He usually left it on by accident, but what I saw next wasn’t accidental at all.
His Twitter feed was open, and I froze when I saw the hashtag #tradwife attached to a tweet. Confusion washed over me as I read the post. It glorified the joys of having a traditional wife who embraces her domestic duties. Attached was a photo of me, taking a batch of cookies out of the oven, looking every bit like a 1950s housewife. My stomach churned as I scrolled through more posts. There I was again, tending to the garden and reading to Lily, our faces thankfully obscured.
This was Jake’s account, and he had been crafting a whole narrative about our life that was far from reality. He portrayed me as a woman who relished her role as a homemaker, willingly sacrificing her career for aprons and storybooks. The truth of our situation — that this arrangement was a necessity for our daughter’s well-being — was nowhere to be seen.
I felt betrayed. Here was the man I’d loved and trusted for over a decade, sharing our life with strangers under a false pretense that felt foreign to me. It wasn’t just the lies about our relationship dynamics that hurt — it was also the realization that he was using these glimpses of our life to bolster some online persona.
I shut the computer down, my hands trembling with a mix of anger and bewilderment. All day, I grappled with my emotions, trying to comprehend why Jake would do this. Was he dissatisfied with our situation? Did he resent my decision to stay home? Or was it something deeper, a shift in how he perceived me now that I wasn’t contributing financially?
The rest of the day passed in a blur. His posts kept replaying in my mind, and eventually, I couldn’t ignore them any longer. I decided to call him and address everything head-on.
“Jake, we need to talk,” I finally said, trying to keep my voice steady.
He answered, sounding concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I took a deep breath, the weight of my discovery weighing heavily on me. “I saw your Twitter today…”
His expression fell, and he let out a long sigh, indicating he knew exactly what this conversation was about to entail. He started to respond, but I interrupted him.
“Calm down,” he said, dismissing it as “just harmless posting.” That was the final straw. I told him I wanted a divorce, called him out for his deceit, and ended the call.
Jake rushed home immediately. We argued, but with Lily’s strict schedule, I couldn’t let the conflict drag on. He pleaded with me to have a proper conversation after putting Lily to bed. Reluctantly, I agreed. That night, he showed me his phone, revealing that he had deleted the Twitter account. But the damage was already done.
A week passed, and my anger hadn’t subsided. This wasn’t a simple misunderstanding. It was a breach of trust. Jake attempted to explain, claiming it started as a joke, but he got carried away with the attention it garnered. But excuses weren’t enough.
Motivated by a mix of hurt and the need for justice, I decided to expose him. I took screenshots of his tweets and shared them on my Facebook page. I wanted our friends and family to know the truth. My post was straightforward: “Your husband belittles you in front of his friends behind your back. Sound familiar?”
The response was immediate. Our relatives were shocked, and the comments poured in. Jake was inundated with messages and calls. He left work early once more to beg for my forgiveness. He knelt, tears in his eyes, pleading that it was all just a “silly game.”
But I couldn’t let it go. The trust that bound us together was broken. It wasn’t just about a few misguided posts; it was about the respect and understanding we were supposed to have for each other. I told him I needed time and space to think and heal. I moved out with Lily to another apartment.
For six months, Jake begged for forgiveness. He sent messages, left voicemails, and made small gestures to show he was sorry. But sorry wasn’t enough. I told him that if he truly wanted to make amends, we needed to start anew. In my eyes, we were strangers now, and he had to court me like he did years ago when we first met.
So, we began again, slowly. We went on dates, starting with coffee and progressing to dinners. We talked a lot — about everything except the past. It was like rediscovering ourselves individually and as a couple. Jake was patient, perhaps realizing this was his last chance to salvage our once-loving relationship.
As I sit here now, reflecting on the past year, I realize how much I’ve changed. This betrayal forced me to reevaluate not only my marriage but also myself and my needs. I’ve learned that forgiveness isn’t just about accepting an apology; it’s about feeling secure and valued again. It’s a gradual process, one that we’re both committed to, step by step.
What would you have done if you were in my shoes? Share your thoughts on Facebook.
Sally Field’s worst on-screen kiss in her decades-long career might be a surprise to most
I have always thought Sally Field was amazing. She is an actress of legendary caliber. In addition, the 76-year-old has a long history of on-screen romances.
As a result, she has received her fair share of kisses on TV. Though at first she was reluctant to reveal whose costar it was with, she finally revealed which has been the worst.
Sally Field, regarded as one of the most gifted and adaptable actors of her generation, has had an incredible Hollywood career. Her legendary roles in a number of movies and television shows have won us over.
She gave an amazing performance in Steel Magnolias, for instance, and the funeral scene is something I will always remember.Sally portrayed a woman torn by love, disappointment, hatred, and loss, and she did a fantastic job at it.
She is, of course, also well-known for her parts in popular television shows and films, including Erin Brockovich, The Flying Nun, Gidget, Forrest Gump, and Sweet and the Bandit.
In Pasadena, California, Sally was born into a working-class family in show business.
However, her early years were everything but idyllic. Sally claimed in her memoirs that she was abused by her stepfather and that, when she was seventeen, she had a covert abortion.
Still, she proved to be such a kind, modest person.
As of right now, Sally is still going to work every day. In the 2020 television series Dispatches From Elsewhere, she portrayed Janice. She will play Jessie Buss in the widely watched television series Winning Time: The Rise of the Lakers Dynasty in 2022, which depicts the personal and professional life of the Los Angeles Lakers in the 1980s.
It is therefore not surprising that Sally occasionally appears in interviews given how active she is.
After a fan asked a pointed question, beloved icon Sally Field opted to share her worst on-screen kiss with the world on Thursday, Dec. 1 episode of “Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen.”
Upon hearing the question, Field, 76, looked around and laughed, saying, “Oh boy.” Do I really need to name names here?
“I believe you should,” 54-year-old Cohen answered.
Field gave in and said, “All right. This is going to surprise you. Hold on, people.
The Oscar-winning actress accused actor Burt Reynolds, her ex-boyfriend, of being the guilty party.
Cohen asked, “But weren’t you dating at the time?” with prompt follow-up.
Field clarified that she was required to “look the other way” when filming “Smokey and the Bandit.” This, according to her, “just wasn’t something he really did for you.”
“Isn’t that something?” Cohen asked, seeming shocked.
The actress continued by saying that Reynolds did a lot of “drooling” while they were on screen together.
While filming “Smokey and the Bandit,” the two co-stars got to know one another in 1977. They dated for almost five years after that.
According to the New York Post, Reynolds discussed his friendship with Field in his memoir But Enough About Me. Reynolds tragically passed away at the age of 82 from cardiac arrest.
The celebrity said he regretted their time together and wished he had done more to try to mend their relationship.
Field gave Variety an explanation in March for why she had stopped communicating with Reynolds throughout the last 30 years of his life.
She went on, “He was not someone I could be around.” “He was simply not a good fit for me at all. Additionally, he had somehow created the illusion that I was more significant to him than he had previously believed, even though I wasn’t. All he wanted was the thing that he was without. Simply put, I didn’t want to handle that.
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