What I meant to say was…

I need to share how this has affected me, and I’m going to try to do that clearly instead of just reacting from hurt.

What has been most upsetting isn’t even the nicotine pouches themselves… it’s the secrecy. When you told me you were quitting, you were excited and open about it. I tried to manage my expectations because I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but I believed you. So finding out later that you had bought pouches and didn’t tell me — that you didn’t share you were struggling or having a hard day — made me feel shut out. It felt like you made a decision alone that affects both of us.

That lack of transparency hurts more than anything. I want to be your partner, not someone you hide things from.

I’m also scared. I don’t fully understand the health implications of these products, and that uncertainty makes my mind spiral. I worry about your heart. I worry about long-term consequences. I worry about what it means if we’re planning to try for a baby this year. Whether those fears are big or small medically, they are real emotionally. I need to feel like we are both actively protecting our health… for ourselves and for the future we say we want together.

There’s another layer to this too. I worked incredibly hard to quit nicotine. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. So this touches something deep for me, physically and emotionally. It makes me anxious in ways I don’t like. I don’t want our intimacy to be clouded by resentment, worry, or feeling uncomfortable.

More than anything, this brings up trust. My trust already feels fragile, and when something is hidden from me, it reinforces the fear that I’m not being treated like a full partner. What I need from you isn’t excuses or defensiveness. I need accountability. I need honesty, even when it’s uncomfortable. I need you to say, “I messed up. I should have told you. I see how this affected you.” That matters to me.

I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to shame you for struggling. I understand addiction is hard. But I am allowed to feel hurt by how this was handled. My feelings aren’t an attack; they’re information about what I need to feel safe and connected.

Right now, I need consistency, honesty, and follow-through. I need to feel like we are building something stable if we’re talking about expanding our family. And I need to know that when things get hard, you will turn toward me instead of away from me.

I care about you. That’s why this hurts. But I can’t keep exhausting myself trying to hold everything together alone. I need you to show up in a more mature, accountable way.