His 80% vs My 20%

The worst kind of loneliness is being unseen in a room you worked so hard to build.

I knew breaking up with him was inevitable. I just knew once I did, the little bit of help I was getting was going to cease and it did. 

Let’s start from the beginning. 

My ex and I dated in high school, many years ago. I loved him. When he came back into my life for a second time, I figured we would get it right this time around. 

Turns out, I was too broken for him. 

What he didn’t know was, I was broken in high school.

The first year of our relationship was fun and exciting but also tough. I was going through a transition in my life where I was trying to figure out who I was after teaching and no longer having my mother in my life. I was broken, trying to keep myself whole. 

After being in a previous relationship where traveling wasn’t a thing, getting splurged on was obsolete, and being pampered wasn’t even an option. I thought what this man was giving me was gold. 

Forgetting I prayed to God asking him to show me one last time what being with a narcissist was like so I could understand the difference. This was not the prayer out right. I just needed CLARITY.

And here I am. 

After our first year together, most of it long distance, we thought it was time to move in. Hell we needed to because if I were to marry this man without knowing what I knew now… no words. 

Our second year was damn near hell. We were both in debt, me still trying to start a life outside of teaching and failing. Him wanting to go back to his old job and nothing sticking. We were both drowning but the only one communicating was me. 

After a tough argument, it was decided that I was going back to teaching. I was devastated. I knew mentally it would not be the best option, but I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to prove to him that I did care about our family. That I did care that we were drowning. So I did it. 

First position fucking sucked. I quit so fast I know I left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. The second position wasn’t any better but it was my only choice. 

And I was miserable. But no one cares how miserable you are if the bills are getting paid. 

Now, I should’ve paid attention to the signs before we moved in together. 

This man NEVER cleaned. The only thing he did was laundry. He made sure he had clean clothes to wear but could care less that his tub was brown and growing mold on it. He could care less that his toilet was collecting everything. He didn’t care. 

And what did I do? Clean it up. 

I should’ve paid attention to when he stated, “he always kept a maid.”

But no, I thought since we were doing it all together, he wouldn’t be so against keeping his home clean. 

I was wrong. 

And this was only the beginning. 

Now admittedly, our first year was also difficult because I had a temper. Mostly when we would have conversations that started off as simple until his misogynistic viewpoints would present themselves. 

There was one time he’d pissed me off so bad, I told him to “get out of my face before I throw something at you” I was so ANGRY but also worried. IF he truly thought like this, if he really had this viewpoint about women, I was afraid for our future kids.  Not just our little girl but our boy too. I didn’t want our son to think like him. View women like he did.

That should’ve been my sign to go. But no. I went to therapy, told her how I threatened this man and why. Then we turned around and had a couple’s therapy session with her about it and I left convinced that he really didn’t mean what he said. 

By the way, I paid for both sessions myself. 

And when I later asked what he got from the session, he said “nothing”.

There is so much I could say about our relationship. So many signs that told me it was time to go.

But I wanted to stick it out. Fight for us. Make us work. 

Was he doing that? No. 

He’d run off on solo trips and stop answering my phone calls only to use the argument “You had my location, you knew where I was.” 

He would leave the apartment key on the table as a sign that he was leaving me, but left valuable items I knew he would come back for. 

He’d give me the silent treatment and sleep on the bedroom floor. 

He’d do all these things while I bent over backwards to make things work. 

Still forgetting this prayer to God. 

I knew all of this. Lived through all of this and still chose to live in a three bed, 2.5 bath house with him that he refused to help me clean. 

During the same month I went back to teaching, I also went back to school. I was and still is working on my Masters in Business Administration. During this time, I was also taking care of the house full time. 

By myself.

I remember coming to him asking for help with cleaning. I explained to him that working and going to school full time was going to be a lot. I needed help. His response, “let’s get a maid.” 

My response, “okay, are you going to help me find one or am I doing that myself too.” 

His response, “I can.” 

Did he? No.

As the months went on, the weight of carrying everything became too much so I stopped a lot of things. Mostly cleaning and cooking. 

During this time, I was an ASD Teacher (Autism Spectrum Disorder) that just lost two out of three paraprofessionals, juggling school, a new puppy (that he refused to bond with the first 4 months), and the damn house. I was exhausted. 

And do you know what this man said to me? 

He felt that he was doing 80% of the work in the house while I was doing 20%. 20 fucking percent. 

What his 80% consisted of. 

1. Washing and Drying the laundry (ONLY)

2. Washing dishes (ONLY)

3. Taking out the trash (ONLY)

These three things were what he considered 80%. 

In truth, this man wasn’t even doing the bare minimum. 

The clothes he washed and dried, I folded and put them up. Hell I was the one who put the whole closet together. Putting together and organizing the storage, color coding his shirts because he felt it made things easier for him. Trying to find ways to fit both of our belongings into one space. 

And yes he washed dishes, but who moped the floors, wiped down the counters, swept? 

Who cleaned off the stove after he spilled crab boil juice EVERYWHERE?

Yes he took out the trash. But trash that was left all over the house because he was too lazy to put it in a trash can. Trash that I had to discard because I was tired of seeing empty cups, soda cans, and wrappers all over the place. 

Who cleaned the bathrooms, who made sure the sheets were washed and renewed, who took care of the dog, who vacuumed the house, who unpacked the house. Who did all of it? 

Me. But all I was doing was 20%.

I remember when my sister came to visit and wanted to surprise me by cleaning up the kitchen before I came home. 

Guess who didn’t know where anything went and actually suggested she call me to figure it out. 

The same one giving 80%. While I gave 20%?

And to be honest it only got worse from there. 

Eventually, the simple request I made became burdens on him. 

Me wanting to spend money on necessities meant I wasn’t being financially smart.

But guess who was in charge of all the bills? Guess who knew what came out and when? Guess who tried to delegate the money in our joint account to his credit card debt? Guess who paid back his mom $1600 because someone spent money that could’ve gone towards rent on items from an auction that barely sold? Guess who paid the $500 for the dog that we both agreed to get? Just guess…

Me. 

Hell in the end, I learned I contributed over $3000 more to our joint account. 

But I wasn’t financially smart?

7 months into us living together I was exhausted and overwhelmed. I wanted to check myself into a mental hospital. And his only response was, “let me know when you want me to drop you off.”

By month 9 I was exhausted. I had no more to give. Everyone else around me saw how unhappy I was and yet I was still trying to push through. Trying to make things work. While he was secretly putting a camera up and watching my every move. Something I didn’t find out about until we were broken up and he was texting me strange things like he was watching me. 

When I finally told him I was done, I knew all of the “80%” that he was giving was going to be “0%” and I was right. 

He stopped helping with everything. Acted like the house was no longer his. Any request I asked of him was ignored or made into a big thing because in his words, “he was barely there anyways.” 

In the end, I stopped asking. I stopped giving him any energy and straight out told him to only talk to me about necessary things. 

His response, “why are you being so hostile?”

And still…

He was still trying to get the same benefits from someone that was already depleted.

Deep sigh…

I can’t tell you why I wrote this. 

Maybe I needed to get it out. Release this. 

I needed my story to be told so I could stop replaying it in my head. 

Stop telling myself it wasn’t that bad.

 But it was.

And the crazy thing, this wasn’t even all of it. 

There were so many contradictory arguments. 

So many times I was the one at fault even when it was his decision. 

I jumped through so many hoops just to prove to this man I wasn’t the woman he painted me out to be. 

And in the end, I lost myself. 

I was so damn tired. I just wanted to escape. Stop being the problem. Stop being accused of all these things when all I was doing was trying to prove to this man how much I loved him. How much I cared about “our family”.

And in the end. 

He still doesn’t get it. I fear he never will. 

But what did I learn? 

If I have to over perform, it’s not for me. 

If I have to over explain, it’s not for me. 

If I have to escape, it’s not for me. 

And now my prayer to God is…

God, I’m ready to see what it looks like to be loved for real. To be with someone who likes me, loves me, cherishes me, sees me, hears, and truly wants me. I’m ready to see how good it can get. How much love I can receive. I’m ready lord and I pray for someone ready for me. 

Amen.