Earning for the Family While My Husband Dives into Virtual Worlds

It’s been over a year since my husband, Benjamin, lost his job. At first, we saw it as a minor setback. He had been working tirelessly for years, and the severance package he received seemed like a blessing in disguise. “I’ll take a couple of weeks off to recharge, then I’ll start looking,” he assured me. I supported him, believing that everyone deserves a break now and then. But weeks turned into months, and Benjamin’s job search never began. Instead, his days were filled with video games, leaving me, Brianna, to shoulder the responsibilities of our household and the upbringing of our children, Harper, 7, and Alexander, 5.

At first, I tried to be understanding. The job market can be tough, and I thought maybe Benjamin was struggling with the rejection or the fear of it. But whenever I brought up the topic of job hunting, he’d assure me he was “working on it” and change the subject. Our savings, initially a safety net, began to dwindle, and I found myself taking on extra shifts at the hospital where I work as a nurse. The stress was palpable, but I held onto hope that things would change.

As months passed, our relationship strained under the weight of unspoken frustrations. Conversations about finances or future plans would spiral into arguments, with Benjamin retreating further into his virtual worlds. Friends and family started to notice the tension, offering well-meaning advice that only served to highlight the growing divide between us.

Michelle, my closest friend, tried to intervene by offering Benjamin leads on potential jobs. But each offer was met with excuses. “I’m not qualified for that,” or “I’m looking for something in my field,” he’d say, despite the urgency of our situation. It became clear that Benjamin’s priorities had shifted, and the reality of our family’s needs was secondary to his escapism.

The breaking point came when Harper’s school called about overdue tuition fees. I had assumed Benjamin had taken care of it with the last of our savings. When I confronted him, the look of guilt on his face said it all. Our savings were gone, spent on online gaming subscriptions and in-game purchases. The betrayal stung deeper than the financial wound.

Now, as I sit in the quiet of our home after a long night shift, watching Benjamin lost in another game, I can’t help but feel alone. Our conversations have dwindled to mere exchanges about necessities. Harper and Alexander sense the tension, their laughter less frequent. I find solace in my work and the smiles of our children, but the future feels uncertain.

I’ve started to contemplate a life without Benjamin, wondering if the distance between us can ever be bridged. The man I married, who once had dreams and ambitions, seems like a stranger now. As I juggle bills and parent-teacher meetings, I mourn the loss of our partnership and the happy ending we were supposed to have.