I know this is long, but bear with me.

Me (F, 39) and my husband (M, 36) have been together for a few years, and our relationship has hit a serious breaking point—financially, emotionally, and professionally.

Background

When we first started dating, he insisted that all household expenses should be split 50/50, regardless of income. At the time, I earned less. His income was commission-based and volatile, while mine was steady. Still, I paid my half.

Four months before our wedding, his business started falling apart. He lost most of his clients and began relying on one account, which later collapsed due to legal issues. He didn’t tell me any of this. He even took out a 401k loan and kept his books of business issues  hidden until two months after we were married.

This was a major betrayal. What made it worse? He had just pushed us into a more expensive rental right before our wedding, knowing full well he was financially unstable.

During this time, I was covering everything—rent, insurance, groceries, my daughter’s needs (from a previous relationship), even pet care. He couldn’t even contribute $100 a month. I later found out it was because he was spending most of his money eating out, despite our financial strain. That broke me. I was cutting back to make sure we were okay while he lived in denial.

When I suggested he look for a new job, he refused to leave his toxic company. Instead, he moved into a slightly better-paying role ($10K more), but a chunk went straight to repaying his 401k loan.

Meanwhile, I kept grinding—two degrees later, I’m now a manager in my field. I was even approached by a recruiter but turned down the offer because I couldn’t afford to risk my stable job—I’m the head of the household. I did ask the HH about openings for my husband, and he landed a great new job.

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The Side Hustle

With things looking better financially, I suggested starting a small food cart side business. The goal was to pay off my student loans, both our cars, and save for a home. I took out the loan in my name and made a solid plan: we would keep our jobs while slowly building up the cart business.

Just two months later, at his new job, he started talking about quitting to work on the cart full-time. He cashed out his old 401k, which gave us about 3–4 months of breathing room. We were already two months in, and the cart still hadn’t arrived. Once again, I found myself paying for nearly everything, while he remained in limbo with zero backup plan.

I had gotten very sick the previous year, and now I had medical debt to manage as well. Meanwhile, he was picking fights with his new boss—who, yes, was difficult—but he was still inching toward quitting despite the fact that we had no financial cushion to fall back on. Eventually, he quit because he felt his boss wasn’t supporting him and was too difficult to work with, which only added to the instability we were already dealing with. He thought he could thrive as his own boss, but the reality of our situation didn’t match his vision.

I, on the other hand, do have a difficult boss, but I still manage to show up every day because I know we have responsibilities. My job isn’t easy, but I have emotional intelligence and I understand the importance of stability, even in tough circumstances. Sadly, my husband doesn’t seem to have the same emotional awareness. He has a big ego, and that often gets in the way of understanding how delicate our situation really is. Sometimes I feel that he is taking some kind of advantage of me.

The Final Straw

About a month ago, my husband told me his dad had been asking repeatedly when the food cart would launch—because he wants to work in it. Let’s not forget: this was my idea, funded with my loan, planned by me, and driven by my income. And while I’ve been grinding at a demanding full-time job, managing a household, and taking care of my daughter—he’s been floating in and out of roles, dodging real accountability, and dreaming about full-time entrepreneurship before we even have a business that earns money.

What made it worse was when I shared my hope to eventually open a second cart—if the first became successful—he responded with, “Yeah, we should let my dad and his wife manage that one and pay them a salary.”

This wasn't my plan at all. My intention was to scale only when the business became stable, and at that point, I would step in full-time to run the second location. Instead, he’s inserting his dad—and his dad’s household—into a business I’ve been almost solely responsible for building.

Here’s the kicker: his father is a full-blown MAGA supporter. While I’ve appreciated him as a person in the past, the values he supports are in direct conflict with my existence. I’m a Latina woman. A mom. A product of public aid and student loans. Someone who had to claw her way up from nothing, relying on programs that people like his father often vote against. And now, they want to benefit from something built on the back of those very programs? It’s tone-deaf at best and insulting at worst.

Even more frustrating is that my husband doesn’t see any of this. He’s completely oblivious to the economic reality we’re living in. He doesn’t understand how fragile this moment is—how volatile the market is, how interest rates, inflation, tariffs, and job insecurity are affecting people everywhere, including us. He still moves like we’re financially stable, like we have a cushion, like we can afford to be careless. He’s floating while I’m drowning—and that disconnect is devastating.

I’ve been shouldering 95% of the expenses. I’ve cut back on everything. I’m watching every dollar. I know what can go wrong—because I’ve seen it go wrong. My parents lost their business in 2008 because they didn’t adapt to the crash. They didn’t pay attention. I am paying attention, and what I see scares me. The cart is already delayed, tariffs may raise our final costs, my 401k is hurting, and our backup money is running out.

And here’s my husband, planning fantasy expansions, placing his dad in leadership roles, and talking about quitting jobs before we’ve made a single dollar. It makes me feel alone, unseen, and even used.

What’s worse is that he’s not just unaware—he’s willfully naive. He’s choosing to live in a version of reality where he doesn’t have to carry the stress I carry. In fact, my job is not easy at all—I have a boss who sucks, but I know that we have responsibilities. I show up every day because that’s what is needed, even when I’m dealing with difficult people and stressful situations. Meanwhile, my husband seems to lack emotional intelligence and doesn’t seem to understand the weight of our situation. He sometimes thinks he’s above everyone, and that’s even harder to accept.

That choice costs me every single day. In stress. In financial instability. In resentment.

AITAH?