I guess to me it sounds a bit like I felt my first marriage was: I was supposed to be perfect and take care of him, and I was never good enough.
It didn't mattered what I did -- I was always "too" something: Too fat, too outgoing, too happy, too focused on the kids, too... whatever.
In the end, even if things hadn't gotten as horribly awful as they got, we were both miserable in that marriage. He claims I ruined his life, but now, divorced and no contact, at least ONE of us is happy...