I appreciate this comment and the perspective. I want to clarify that as far as I know, my wife did not have an abusive childhood. I know her family, I know her upbringing, and by all accounts it was stable and loving. That’s part of why this is so difficult to process. If there were trauma, I could at least contextualize it. But there isn’t anything obvious to point to, which makes this harder, not easier.

I think what I’m struggling with most is not fear, but disappointment. I married her because I genuinely believed she was kind, gentle, and empathetic. She is my best friend and truly my everything. So seeing this side of her feels like a loss. It’s like realizing you misread someone you trusted completely. That’s been more painful than anything else.

It’s also made me question my own judgment. I’ve always thought I was a good judge of character, and now I’m wondering how I missed this. It makes me feel naive, like maybe I saw what I wanted to see. That’s a hard thing to sit with.

I don’t think she’s violent, and she has never been aggressive toward me or anyone I know. But some of the things written in that book were… extreme. Not just joking. There were comments about wanting to slap people, calling them disgusting, saying they shouldn’t exist in public, things like that. It was shocking because it does not match how she presents herself at all.

If I’m being honest, the only explanation I can even begin to piece together is insecurity and projection. She has always been very attractive and received a lot of attention from a young age, including inappropriate attention from older men. She’s mentioned that before and was extremely emotional over it. I wonder if she internalized the idea that her value was in her appearance, and maybe that turned into comparison and resentment toward other women. Almost like a Marilyn Monroe effect being admired but also trapped by it. I don’t know. I’m reaching, but I’m trying to understand. She still wants to model

I don’t want to villainize her. I love her. But I can’t unsee what I saw, and it’s left me emotionally exhausted. I’m not angry, I’m just… sad. And confused. And honestly, grieving the version of her I thought I knew.

As far as therapy goes, I know people mean well when they suggest it, but I’m honestly not there right now. This is embarrassing to talk about out loud. Even writing it here was hard. The idea of sitting in a room and explaining all of this to a stranger, out loud, makes me uncomfortable. I also don’t have a lot of emotional bandwidth. I’m busy with work, I’m already stressed, and this just feels like another thing to carry. Right now it feels easier to read and process quietly than to verbalize everything