When my husband began tutoring for extra cash during college, it seemed like a simple and manageable side job. Even after he landed his 9-to-5 job, he continued tutoring, balancing both commitments without much issue. However, over the past year, I noticed his schedule becoming increasingly chaotic. More students meant more late nights, more weekends spent working, and it was clear that his passion for tutoring was taking a toll on our time together. The money was never the problem; it was his inability to say no.
We had always maintained one crucial boundary: Sundays were for family. No work, no tutoring sessions—just us. But last month, that line was crossed. “Just for now,” he said. “Exams are coming up.” And just like that, Sundays no longer belonged to us.
The Breaking Point
At first, I tried to be understanding. But when he grabbed his laptop right after breakfast one Sunday, saying, “I’ll just be an hour,” something inside me snapped. I could no longer stay silent. I had to tell him how I felt.
“You’re neglecting us,” I said, my voice shaky but firm.
His response was defensive. “I have to work this hard. I’m doing this for our family.”
That’s when I said the thing I had been holding back. “No. You’re doing this for you. You like it. You like having an excuse not to be with us.”
The silence that followed spoke volumes. He didn’t deny it. In that moment, I realized what I had feared: the truth was right in front of me. But I couldn’t find the words to continue. I walked out of the room, heart pounding, unsure of how to calm the storm inside me.
The Tension Builds
The day that followed was filled with tension. My husband shut himself in the office while I took our daughter, Nina, to the park. I needed some time away from the silent storm brewing in our home. As I sat on a bench, watching Nina play, I tried to make sense of my emotions. Yes, I was angry, but there was also a sense of sympathy for him. Maybe he was hiding behind his work for a reason. Maybe there was something deeper at play that he wasn’t ready to face.
Later that evening, when we returned home, the quiet was overwhelming. We exchanged a few polite words, but the weight of the unspoken words hung between us. Nina, sensing the tension, retreated to her room. It felt like we were living in two separate worlds.
A Heart-to-Heart Conversation
A week passed without any change. My husband continued his relentless schedule—working from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. at his day job, then tutoring late into the night. Saturdays and Sundays were consumed by his students. I was left to manage everything else, alone.
Finally, I decided to approach the situation differently. Instead of accusing him again, I decided to have a real conversation. I knocked on the door of his office, and when he opened it, I simply asked if we could sit down together in the living room. He hesitated but agreed.
We sat quietly for a moment before I spoke. “I’m worried about you.”
His shoulders slumped. “I’m fine,” he replied, but his voice betrayed him. “I just like staying busy.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice gentle. “Why do you need to keep yourself busy every single minute?”
He fiddled with a cushion, his eyes avoiding mine. “I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid that if I slow down, I’ll realize how…unfulfilled I feel. At work, at home…sometimes I feel like I’m not doing enough or being enough.”
His words hit me harder than I expected. Beneath all his ambition and drive, there was a layer of insecurity and doubt. I reached for his hand. “You’re more than enough. Nina adores you. I love you. But it’s hard to remember that when you’re never around.”
He nodded slowly, his eyes glistening with emotion. “I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” It seemed like he wanted to cry, but he quickly pulled away, as if embarrassed by his vulnerability. “I’ll try to cut back,” he said. “After exam season is over.”
I wanted to believe him, but I knew that exam season was just a recurring excuse. It was a temporary fix to a much bigger problem.
The Real Test: A Missed Family Gathering
A few weeks later, the real test came. We had planned to attend a Sunday lunch at my parents’ house to celebrate my mother’s birthday. My husband had known about it for days, and I had reminded him, but that morning, just as I was preparing to leave, he emerged from the office looking pale.
“I got a last-minute request. A student is panicking about his final exam tomorrow. I’ll meet you at your parents’,” he said, grabbing his keys.
I felt the anger rise within me. “You promised you’d come with us,” I said, my voice shaking.
“I’ll be quick. Just an hour,” he insisted.
Once again, I watched him leave, feeling the familiar pang of abandonment. Nina and I went to my parents’ house without him, but the whole time, I kept wondering when he would arrive. He never did.
When we got home that afternoon, his car was in the driveway, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel relief. Nina rushed in to find him, and when I walked into the living room, I found him pacing.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at me with regret in his eyes. “I told the student it would be just one hour, but he was a wreck. I couldn’t just leave him—”
“That’s exactly what you did to us,” I interrupted, my voice low. “You left us.”
He swallowed, looking at Nina, who was quietly watching. “I know I messed up. I—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
In that moment, I saw the regret in his eyes. He wasn’t just apologizing for missing the lunch; he was apologizing for all the promises he had broken. He continued, “I realized something today. I can’t keep making empty promises. I keep telling you and Nina that I’ll be there, but I don’t show up. And I realized that I probably make you feel the same way my student felt—like no one’s there when you need them.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “You need to figure out what’s driving you. Because this can’t continue.”
“I’m scared of being irrelevant,” he said quietly, his voice trembling. “If I’m not tutoring, if I’m not the person everyone relies on, then who am I?”
“That’s something you need to work through,” I said gently. “But you have a family. We’re not going anywhere. Nina needs you. I need you.”
With that, he hugged me, and for the first time in a long time, it felt real. Nina squeezed in between us, and we stood together as a family—no work, no distractions.
Positive Changes
Over the next few weeks, I saw a shift in my husband. He started cutting back on his tutoring sessions, explaining to his students that he needed to focus on personal reasons. While some students were disappointed, he found alternative tutors to step in. At home, he made a more conscious effort to be present. We even started getting our Sundays back, though he still struggled with the urge to stay busy. But I could see he was trying, and that gave me hope for the future.
