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07/09/2025

07/08/2025

Known for his music. Rih.

View Joseph William Nester's obituary, send flowers, find service dates, and sign the guestbook.

07/03/2025

🥴

07/03/2025

He would scream at me while I cooked his dinner.
Pound his fists on the counter.
Throw tantrums like a child in a grown man’s body.
Explode in the car.
Rage on the trails.
Shout threats in my face like I was his enemy—
all while I stood there… frozen.
Trying to survive.

Then hours later, he’d be posting us smiling at the top of a mountain.
“Grateful for this one,” he’d say.
But what he really meant was:
Grateful I’m still under control.

They only show you the pictures they want you to see.
But I lived the part no one talks about.

What you’re seeing on Facebook might be a lie.
Behind that polished post, behind the curated caption,
might be a woman who’s scared to breathe wrong.

I was that woman.
I smiled in public and cried behind closed doors.
I was told I was crazy, dramatic, too sensitive, always the problem.
But the real problem was:
He knew how to perform.
I was the one living the truth.

If this is hitting too close to home…
it’s not just a coincidence.
It might be time to stop hiding what’s happening.
To stop explaining his rage.
To stop pretending it’ll get better.
Because love doesn’t look like fear.
And no amount of perfect photos will ever heal a soul that’s being crushed in secret.

You don’t need to stay.
You don’t need to fix him.
You need to save you.

I know it’s hard.
I know what it’s like to plan your escape while pretending to smile.
But I made it out.
And I will never go back.

You can break the silence.
You can break the cycle.

And one day—
you’ll cook in peace.

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