r/JustNoSO

This situation happened almost 2 years ago. I'm divorced now (yay!), and i'm processing and remembering some things differently from how I initially thought they happened.

TW: coercion, verbal abuse, mental abuse, death of an animal, infidelity

Background:

My ex (now 33M) and I (now 29F) had a kid in 2024. For my first mother's day he got me tickets to a show I really wanted to see. The show wasn't until October. I spent all of the summer dealing with PPD as a stay-at-home-mom while my husband worked on coercing me into agreeing to a polyamorous relationship. He worked his way up to saying our relationship and marriage would be over if I didn't agree to letting him "explore this part of who he really is".

In September of 2024 I agreed and he started going on dates (unsurprisingly he had already been cheating on me, since I was 6 months pregnant on our one year wedding anniversary actually, but that's not the point of this post). By the beginning of October I was sick to my stomach and told him I needed to take space and go to my parent's house with the baby. He said if I left he'd get the courts to give him full custody of the baby because I was just a stay-at-home-mom and he provided insurance and financial stability. So I stayed.

Two weeks later we went to the show together. I was trying to use this as an opportunity to reconnect and heal part of what was broken. At some point once the show had started he sat there checking his phone instead of watching. I tapped his arm and looked at him confused and he started yelling in my ear that he was checking on our baby and texting my parents. I leaned to the side in my seat. He tried to grab my hand and shoulder and pull me back to him, but I pulled away. After the show we got in the car and I asked him why he didn't like me anymore? Why couldn't he speak kindly to me anymore? Why did he seem so annoyed and upset to be around me? What had I done? (Nothing, he was/is a piece of shit).

He had completely ruined the experience for me, and it had been something I was really looking forward to. Luckily in December the show was coming back around and I would be able to see it again. It was in a farther away city on a Sunday night, and would be more expensive, but it was the least he could do to make it up to me and help repair our marriage. And he agreed.

The rest of october came and went. So did November. Then December came. We started our Christmas shopping. I didn't want to be pushy. But I asked if he had gotten the tickets yet. I remember how angry he was when he looked at me as he said "no."

He did get the tickets.

We had plans to get a Christmas tree with my parents. We decided to stay over at their house the night before so we could go early in the morning and spend the day there with the baby. We had a good time, cut the tree, brought it home and decorated it, all was good. When we headed back the baby fell asleep. I decided to stay in the car when we got home so I could monitor while the baby slept and he went inside to unpack and feed the cats. I stayed in the car for 20-30 minutes while he was inside.

When I came in he was freaking out. Saying the cats must have gotten into the closet while we were away and got the rat poison that was up in the top and back of the closet (the previous tenants had a mouse problem when they had moved in 5 years prior, the house was old. We patched holes when we moved in a year before these events. He was a bit paranoid and got some rat poison to make sure. This all happened before rhe baby was born.)

I laid the baby down, changed a diaper, and called poison control. I talked with the poison control specialist while he brought the cats to the emergency vet. I called my friend and asked her to come over and keep me company.

The cats didn't make it. They had eaten the rat poison. Most of the ones on the market are nonlethal to other animals, but this one was a nerve poison, and there was no antidote.

He told me he had borrowed money from friends in order to pay for the vet bills. Because of the money he said we couldn't afford to go to the show anymore. When death of a pet wasn't enough to get his money back from the ticket company he faked an illness and got it back that way.

He continuously said "I killed them, it was my fault." We thought they had gotten into it just before we had gotten home from my parent's house. If we had gotten home sooner maybe we could have caught them. So I reassured him there was nothing he could have done, we were both just as at fault, we were out of the house, we should have gotten rid of it a long time ago, but he did not kill them.

He proceeded to use the fact he took a day off of work to grieve the pets as an example of him being there for me when he continued to avoid being home and caring for the baby. As an excuse not to be honest about our finances because he was "still paying off the vet bills." As a reason to get me to say he wasn't the bad guy.

Now that it's two years later and I've realized how abusive he was, how much he manipulated me, I remembered this scenario again. And I started to rethink it. There was 20-30 minutes when I wasn't in the house when he was. And he was growing resentful of me and our relationship. He had already been living a double life for over a year when the cats died. And he was not happy about having to make up my mother's day present to me.

This isn't anything i'm going to pursue or question with him. I'm going to take it to therapy and deal with it there. Write about it in my journal.

I couldn't think it at the time because he had always loved the cats. We'd had them for 7 years. They were our boys, his boys. He cuddled them and loved them and kissed them. But he also cuddled and loved and kissed me, and he still abused and manipulated and coerced me.

I don't know the truth, and I never will. But I think he killed the cats.

My bf was not like this at first but I’ve come to know it is unfortunately his default space to be “perma stressed”. That shows up differently for everyone.

For me: it’s a few curse words and 3 minute passionate rant, then pushing my glasses up and getting shit done. Followed by, “it’s not you honey.” Like I can be lovely dovey while still enraged/stressed/upset.

For him: he kinda just becomes hypersensitive, critical, and easily annoyed.

Some examples: we are laying in bed and I ask if I can show him the tiktoks I sent him. He says “oh yeah sure”. One of the videos is a little longer and I worry will it bother him, what if it doesn’t hold his attention? Does he seem like he’s in a mindset where this will be well received? 10 seconds into the video and he picks up his phone and checks his notifications and starts swiping them away. He asks me a question about plans we have later in the week, groaning. Obviously he’s not watching it so I pause it and decide another time. He then asks why I paused it, he explains that he can gets the gist of what it’s about and I don’t need to pause it. So I continue playing. Without ANY warning, he gets up frustrated and flips the light on and starts stomping around the house. The sound of our cats playing is “overstimulating him and so much shit is going on”. He comes back to bed and flips over, saying nothing with his eyes shut. I’m like, is he mad at me? So I ask and he’s like “NO. I don’t feel good. I’m tired. My back hurts. I’ve had a long day.” I ask if he wants to cuddle and he will say sure, but it’s like he is “off”.

Another example: we are in the car and I tell him I want to show him a song. I explain its meaning and symbolism and how it pertains to me (I’m very like that). A car cuts him off and he gets frustrated and turns the music off and says “I can’t drive with this garbage playing”. Moments before things were fine.

Let’s say Im feeling a bit hyper when I come home from work. Cheery. Energetic. But he’s had a rough day. Some sort of “do you have to be so loud? It’s giving me a migraine with how fast you speak. I don’t think it’s normal are you ok?”

Let’s say I’m talking passionately about something it could be an idea or rant. He will point out “what you said right there was an oxymoron” and COMPLETELY avoid the point of what I just said.

When he is stressed/annoyed, it seems as though it can transfer to me. Even if I had nothing to do with it. Though, he denies it.

In these situations I feel incredibly shut down and small afterwards. I don’t even want to show him what I had prepared/wanted to do/engage. In fact I’ve found myself reaching for him and his attention less and less. Almost like I’m sort of watering down my outward expression and individualism because it’s “too much” for him to handle. Anytime I show him something I feel like I have to explain myself or preface it and I’m super nervous of judgement.

He is stressed all the time, but it’s not usually like I have caused it or it’s relational stress. Usually it’s things like bills, work, his family, things he has to do, back pain. Whenever I try to offer solutions he usually turns them down or insists they won’t work. He doesn’t really like accepting my help either, which leaves me in an impossible situation. Sometimes it seems like martyrdom. He’s fine when life is going well… the issue is you can’t control that.

I’m truly worried one day we would have a “not right now, you know how your dad gets” type of house.

I (25F) have been living with my boyfriend (31M) for about three months, and we’ve been together for over a year. When I moved in, his brother was already living with him and had been for some time. It’s a three-bedroom home, so there is technically enough space for all three of us, and his brother is a nice person who respects our privacy. I’ve never had an issue with him personally. The problem is the cleanliness and the way the shared spaces are being maintained.
His brother has a lot of his mechanic and work-related belongings in the living room, which has taken up a significant amount of space. More recently, he has also been cooking more often, but he rarely cleans up after himself. Almost every morning, I go into the kitchen to find dirty dishes (with food still stuck all over them) the counters covered in mess, the stove covered in oil splatters, and the floors dirty from whatever was cooked the night before. I honestly have a hard time understanding how someone can cook one meal and leave the kitchen in that condition afterward.
The state of the house has been bothering me more and more because I feel like the shared spaces are constantly in disarray. I’ve brought this up to my boyfriend, but he doesn’t really see it the same way I do. To him, the house is just a little disorganized. To me, though, having empty packages, cans, dirty dishes, food, and other things left all over the place isn’t simply “disorganization”—it’s a mess that makes the house difficult for me to enjoy.
My boyfriend has told me that I should talk to his brother directly and be upfront about how I feel. However, I’m uncomfortable doing that because his brother was already living in the home before I moved in. I feel like I’m coming into an arrangement that was already established, and I don’t want to overstep or make it seem like I’m telling him how he should live in his own home. I’ve tried picking up after him, but it has gotten exhausting and frustrating, especially because I feel like I’m constantly cleaning up someone else’s mess.
Another issue is the amount of food waste. We will buy food he requests and he’ll leave it sitting around until it goes bad, which is frustrating to watch, especially because my boyfriend and I are the ones buying most of the groceries. He also eats a significant amount of the food, and while I completely understand that everyone has different appetites, there doesn’t seem to be much consideration for the fact that my boyfriend and I are paying for the groceries and need to be able to enjoy them as well.
At this point, it has gotten to the point where I don’t even enjoy spending time downstairs because of the mess and clutter. I feel like I can’t relax in my own home, and it has started affecting the routines and habits that normally help me feel healthy and happy. I know this isn’t how I want to live long-term, and I’m starting to feel overwhelmed by the situation.
I love living with my boyfriend and spending my time with him, so I don’t want the solution to be simply moving out or giving up living together. At the same time, I don’t think I should have to sacrifice my comfort and quality of life in order to make the living arrangement work. I’m struggling with what to do because I don’t want to create tension with his brother, but I also can’t continue living in a house that feels this messy and chaotic. I feel like my boyfriend needs to understand that this isn’t just about the house being “a little disorganized”, it’s affecting me on a daily basis, please give me any advice on this.