Good Sunday Morning, Adalie—

What you shared yesterday is a clear, emotionally articulate account of a relationship that has become emotionally imbalanced, psychologically taxing, and increasingly unsustainable. You’re not in a mutual partnership — you’re functioning as Vince’s emotional regulator. Instead of developing his own coping tools, he relies on your presence, reassurance, and emotional labor to regulate himself.

Emotional labor is a term I came across only yesterday. It describes the often invisible work of managing emotions — yours and others’ — to keep relationships functioning, often at the cost of your own well-being.

It includes:

* Soothing another’s feelings (e.g., calming someone down when they’re upset)

* Suppressing your own emotions

* Silencing your own needs

* Managing your tone of voice, facial expressions, and reactions for the sake of someone else’s comfort

* Absorbing blame or guilt

* Offering constant reassurance or validation without reciprocity

* Walking on eggshells to avoid triggering someone’s moods

Emotional labor is unpaid, unacknowledged, and leads to burnout, resentment, and emotional depletion. Over time, it erodes your sense of self — because you’re constantly prioritizing someone else’s emotional comfort over your own truth.

Emotional containment is another new term for me. It refers to when one person’s emotional needs, reactions, or anxieties are so dominant that the other person feels forced to suppress, shrink, or silence their own emotions in order to keep the relationship stable.

It’s not mutual regulation — it’s one person absorbing the emotional chaos of another, often without consent or reciprocity. It can look like:

* Avoiding sadness, anger, or joy because it might destabilize the other person

* Constantly scanning for emotional landmines

* Feeling reduced to “neutral” or “supportive”

* No longer asking for what you need because their needs always come first

* You become the emotional buffer — the one who absorbs, soothes, and stabilizes.

In your case, Vince’s panic, anxiety, and controlling behavior dominate the emotional space. Your independence, needs, and natural expressions of love are contained — pushed aside, minimized, or punished. You’re not just managing his emotions — you’re sacrificing your own to keep things functional. This leads to emotional exhaustion, loss of self-expression, and a sense of being trapped or erased.

You also described conditional kindness: Vince is “unusually nice” only when he wants something, and otherwise dismissive or mean. This is a manipulative pattern that creates emotional whiplash and erodes trust.

Mocking your age, questioning your dependability — these are demeaning tactics that chip away at your self-worth.

The apology cycle — conflict → apology → repeat — is a classic abuse pattern, even if it’s not physical. The apology doesn’t lead to change; it simply resets the tension.

Twisting situations to make you feel at fault for setting boundaries is a form of emotional reversal. He disrespects your boundaries, but instead of holding himself accountable, he blames you.

Unfortunately, you’re tied to him through shared housing and expenses, which makes leaving feel unsafe. His desire to move into a smaller place could further isolate you — physically and emotionally.

You’re not staying because you want to — you’re staying because you feel you can’t leave.

You recognized that you’re snapping back, saying mean things, and becoming someone you don’t want to be. That’s not a moral failure — it’s a sign of emotional depletion.

Your final line — “I hate it” — is a cry from someone who’s still in the fog, but beginning to see the edges of it. And that matters. You are naming what’s happening, and you’re beginning to imagine something different — a relationship where love flows freely, where you feel safe, where your emotional truth isn’t contained or erased.

Five days ago, you shared something quietly profound about your experience with Jake — not just the physical intimacy, but the emotional texture of it:

“Yeah it awakened what think I’m missing because it’s not always present at home. Tenderness… he was kind quiet gentle, didn’t make fun of me or force anything. So yeah for sure tenderness and care. Also motivation to go for concealed carry. I was interested in it and have only thought about it. He said “go for it”. And I did. I got my permit still working on step 2. He even suggested a firearm based off me saying my hands are small.”-

That tenderness — the absence of mockery, pressure, or emotional volatility — is what your nervous system has been craving. It’s not just about Jake. It’s about what you’ve been deprived of in your marriage: emotional safety, gentleness, and respect.

The concealed carry permit isn’t just a practical step — it’s symbolic. It’s you reclaiming your right to protect yourself, to enforce boundaries, to make decisions in your own favor. It’s you placing your needs at the center of your life, rather than orbiting around Vince’s moods and demands. It’s a gesture of self-trust — sparked not by control, but by care. Even if brief, Jake’s presence reminded you what it feels like to be encouraged, not diminished.

With care, Anita