The Resilient Dollar

Have you ever lashed out at your partner—not because of something they did, but because of your own stress, fear, or frustration?

I have. And I’m not proud of it.

This post is about what happens behind closed doors when financial stability crumbles. When you’re no longer just worried about the bills—but about your marriage, your sanity, and who you’re becoming in the process.

By late Fall 2024, we were five months into my husband’s unexpected unemployment. On the surface, we were stable—his severance helped, and I was still earning. But underneath, I felt something simmering. A slow, toxic rumble building inside me, trying to explode.

And then, it did.

Our house felt like a pressure cooker. Every conversation was laced with unspoken fear. I told myself to stay supportive, to hold it together. But the weight of being the only income earner was overwhelming. I was carrying a $102,000 debt from unexpected home repairs. It started cracking the emotional armor I had put up.

I couldn’t sleep. I was constantly anxious. And then came the blame…

I was so damn stressed.

Then, the blame started creeping in like a poisonous snake in my relationship.

• Why didn’t he play the office politics game? 
• Why did he have to be so confrontational at work? 
• Why wasn’t he more proactive about finding a new job before he got laid off, especially since he knew his company wasn’t doing great? 
• Why was he still out golfing with his buddies in those first few months? If it were me, fun would be on hold until this mess was sorted. 
• Why did he have to tell everyone every time he had an interview, like the job was already his? Putting me on this emotional roller-coaster every damn time. 
• And why did he turn down that interview with the company that offered a lower salary? 

Why? Why? Why?

Honestly? I secretly turned my resentment toward my husband. (I felt terrible when I typed these words out.)

One night in December, it all just boiled over. The anxiety took over. We had a massive fight in the car. I blamed him for not being a responsible husband, for getting us into this mess. Why couldn’t he just take any job to bring money home right now? Didn’t matter if it was construction or bagging groceries – a temporary fix while he looked for his real job. 

We said some truly nasty things to each other.

So many tears on my end. A huge distance grew between us.

I felt like I was in this dark, hopeless valley.

NO. I’M NOT FINE. THIS IS NOT FINE!

Here’s something I’ve learned: losing a job doesn’t just strip away income—it can strip away identity.

My husband had been a high-performing pricing strategist for SaaS companies for over a decade. Now? He was home all day with no clear next move.

At first, he just… shut down. He slept. A lot. Some days he wouldn’t be up until I’d finished my first few meetings.

Eventually, he got up and filled his days with purpose. He became our home chef, cleaner, handyman, errand-runner. He helped his mom with chores. Fixed everything in sight. Kept himself busy to feel useful—maybe to feel human.

But the stress took a toll. He started drinking more soda and sugary drinks. Gained weight fast—from 190 to 220 pounds in just a few months. It wasn’t about food. It was about comfort. About filling a void.

Our emotional breakdown didn’t happen the day he lost his job. It was delayed by the illusion of stability. But when the severance ended and the pressure mounted, everything cracked.

That’s when we turned to Talkspace, an online therapy platform for individuals and couples. Thankfully, through my employer’s Employee Assistance Program (EAP), we initially had access to 13 free sessions. Even better, knowing that Talkspace accepts my Aetna insurance plan with $0 -$15 copay really helped us stay on track. This allowed us to continue our sessions. It prevented further emotional damage to our relationship.

And in that space, I learned something big about myself:

When life spirals out of my control, I lash out. The deeper truth? I was terrified. Of losing our future. Of being alone in this struggle. Of not being able to fix what was broken.