At first, everything seemed perfect.
When I married Marek, I thought I was starting the most beautiful chapter of my life. He was sensitive, caring, and his family seemed warm and friendly. His mother, Mrs. Teresa, in particular, seemed friendly and open at first. “I've always dreamed of having a daughter-in-law that I could be friends with,” she said with a smile on our first meeting. I believed her.
At first, everything seemed perfect. After the wedding, Marek and I moved into our own apartment, and my mother-in-law visited us occasionally. But over time, these visits became more and more frequent. “I just want to talk,” she would say when she came with dinner, although I never asked her to cook.
It started out as small remarks. „Why do you stack the dishes like that in the cabinet? It’s completely impractical.” Or: „Marek has always liked his food more seasoned. Maybe next time you could add more seasoning?” I accepted it with a smile, telling myself it was her way of showing she cared. But the more time passed, the more spiteful her remarks became.
„You don’t iron Mark’s shirts?– she asked once when she saw him in a slightly wrinkled shirt. “My dear, in a marriage, it is the woman who should take care of her husband.”
“Are you really planning on setting the table for dinner like that? In our family, we have always attached importance to aesthetics,– she added on another occasion, glancing critically at the tableware I had chosen.
I could feel my self-esteem diminishing with every comment she made. I began to wonder if I was really good enough as a wife. But the worst part was that Marek never took my side. When I told him how much it hurt me, he just shrugged. “She’s just like that,” he explained. “Don’t take it personally.”
Don’t take it personally. Those words rang in my head every time my mother-in-law entered our home, as if it were her territory, not hers. One day, when I heard another critical remark from her—this time about the way I was raising our daughter—I I couldn't take it anymore.
„Mrs. Teresa, please stop– I said firmly. „This is my home, my family, and my rules. I don't need your comments at every turn.”
There was silence. Mrs. Teresa looked at me in disbelief, then at Marek, who was standing next to me. I waited for him to say something in my defense this time, but he just looked down.
“I never thought I would raise a son who would let his wife treat me like that,” she said, and then left the apartment, slamming the door.
Marek was furious after the incident. “How could you talk to her like that?” he asked, looking at me reproachfully. “She's my mother. She deserves respect.”
“And me?” I burst out, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. „Don't I deserve respect? Do you think everything he says is okay? You never defend me, you never take my side. Am I just an addition to your family in this marriage?”
Marek didn't say anything. His silence was worse than any words.
Today I feel like an intruder in my own marriage. Every meeting with my mother-in-law is torture for me, and the lack of support from my husband makes me wonder more and more often if it all makes sense. I don't know how much longer I can endure this situation. I love Marek, but I feel that love is not enough if I still have to fight for my place in his life.
Sometimes I wonder if I am the problem. Maybe I really should have been more submissive, less sensitive to my mother-in-law's words. But deep down I know that every person deserves respect and support, especially from someone who has vowed to stand by his side through thick and thin.
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