He never cared about some things that were really, really important to me. That hurt, and I never got over those hurts.

He didn’t like me speaking Estonian with the children when he was around. He found it too hard to learn so he gave up and mostly forgot the bits he had once learned. It was uncomfortable for him to hear a conversation and only understand half of it. For his sake, I stopped speaking Estonian when he was present. But it hurt. Language is important to me. Sure, I can express myself in Swedish and English equally well, but Estonian is the language of my heart. If I’m talking to Ingrid or Adrian about some emotional topic, then doing that in Swedish feels very impersonal. It felt like I was not talking to them for real, but like I was on a stage, acting a part.

(Why am I writing all this in English, you might wonder. Surely this is an emotional topic? Yes, it absolutely is. English gives me distance, and in this case, it’s a good thing. It takes some of the emotion out of the topic and lets me view it more dispassionately. Also, to be quite honest, I am better at writing in English than in Estonian. When I talk to Ingrid and Adrian in Estonian – which I can now do all the time! – I often throw in Swedish or English terms when I just don’t have the vocabulary in Estonian.)

He was not interested in my friends and family. He came with me to Estonia when Adrian was so small that it was difficult for me to manage both kids on my own, but as soon as we were past that, he stopped. And I do realise that it was not a lot of fun for him to be there – not the best he could do with his vacation days. He always felt like an outsider, not knowing the language, and of course the trip there isn’t short.

He hasn’t seen my father and his wife in many years. They’re getting old and won’t be around forever, and he hasn’t found it worth a few days’ effort to come and see them. I wouldn’t even need him to come with us every year, or stay the full time that we do. But, like, once, for a day or two? To signal that he cares at least a little bit?

He never read or even looked at my blog. This has my primary creative outlet for decades. It’s not like he doesn’t read other things online… just that mine wasn’t important to him. Again, I didn’t even need him to subscribe or look at it weekly or interact in any way. But, again, like, maybe take a look once a month and say something politely positive?

Finally, the snoring. It seemss petty, in a way, and definitely wasn’t as deeply emotionally hurtful as the other points above. But it’s still significant. He knew that he snores. He knew that it bothered me. I sometimes literally had to sleep “upside down” with my head next to his feet because the snoring was so loud that my earplugs weren’t enough, so there’s no way he wasn’t aware. My daily (nightly) comfort was just not worth even the smallest effort.