At 44, I wake up every day with the same painful thought: How could I let this happen? How could I let down the people who loved me the most, my family who were always there for me?
I grew up in Madrid in a family that most people would envy. My parents were successful doctors with their own clinics. They worked hard to provide me and my brother with a stable life full of love and support.
I thought my life would always be like this until I met Valeria.
Valeria came from a completely different background. She grew up in an orphanage in Seville, was lonely and never experienced the love of a family. Although she was adopted at the age of eleven, her new family fell apart and her mother became an alcoholic. Valeria learned to take care of herself and was an excellent student despite everything.
She was strong, independent and determined, and I fell in love with that strength. But I didn’t see the deeper issues behind her independence.
My parents accepted Valeria as their own child and treated her like a family member from the beginning. But Valeria never seemed to appreciate their kindness. One day she told me: “Your family lives in a bubble of privilege. They will never know true hardship”. I was shocked but dismissed it as anger.
When we got engaged, my parents offered to help with the wedding, but Valeria refused their money. She didn’t want to owe them anything. To avoid conflict, I secretly accepted their help. The wedding was beautiful and Valeria was proud, but I had already started living a lie.
When Valeria got pregnant, my parents were overjoyed. They brought us baby clothes as a gift, but Valeria refused them. She didn’t want to feel like they were trying to buy their way into our lives. I should have talked to my parents, but I kept lying, thinking I was protecting the peace.
As the birth of our son approached, my parents bought a stroller that they knew Valeria wanted. When they gave it to us, Valeria refused it too. She said that if she accepted it, it would mean that my parents would think they could buy our love. I saw the pain in my parents’ eyes.
The next day, Valeria went into labor. At the hospital, she blamed my parents for the stress. At that moment, I realized that everything was changing.
After the birth of our son, Valeria gave me an ultimatum: I had to cut off contact with my family or they would leave me. I chose them and broke off all ties with my parents and brother. I gave up on the family that had always supported me.
Now I live in a small apartment in Valencia, work as a teacher and struggle to make ends meet. I haven’t seen my parents for twelve years. Sometimes I think about divorce, but deep down I wonder if it’s too late to repair the damage I’ve done.