For years, my husband treated a natural stage of life like a joke. Menopause wasn’t just my experience—it was his punchline. At home, in front of friends, even during casual conversation, my hot flashes, mood swings, and forgetfulness became fodder for his humor.
I learned to laugh along in public while quietly shrinking inside. But one dinner changed everything—and my life along with it.
I’m Irene, 52, and had been married to Rick for nearly thirty years. On paper, we were stable: shared bills, shared routines, shared history. Rick, a natural charmer in sales, thrived on attention.
His confidence once impressed me—and everyone else—but over time it morphed into careless humor at my expense. Small jabs about my menopause became recurring jokes, often in front of others, chipping away at my confidence without me fully realizing it.
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