My in-laws kept showing up unannounced, eating our food, and leaving at 2 or 3 a.m. My husband said to be nice because they helped us buy the house. But then they crossed the line.
I walked in and saw my preserved wedding dress spread on the floor—covered in greasy food containers, chicken bones, and a red wine stain on the bodice. His mom laughed. His dad said, “It’s not like you were gonna wear it again.”
I didn’t argue. I locked myself in the bedroom and cried.
I told my husband: either we set boundaries together, or I move out. A week later, he changed the locks and finally said no more surprise visits.
Thanksgiving came, and they showed up anyway. He stood firm and sent them away.
We started counseling, and he admitted he’d been afraid to stand up to his parents. When his mom later needed help, he supported her—but with boundaries.
That’s when I knew our marriage had changed.
A home isn’t a free-for-all.
Love needs boundaries.
