I separated from him a week ago.
I’ve made my kids cry; it’s the last thing on earth I wanted to do, but I had reached a point where I wanted to die. And when I realised that I was really there, it had gone that far, I also realised that what I was doing, staying with him despite all my unhappiness, was pointless: my kids needed a living, functioning mum more than they needed her to be married to their dad. So I told him we were separating and I packed a bag.
He is hurt and lonely, he tells me. I’m sorry for that but I’ve had two decades of hurt and lonely.
In the insanity around leaving, I found an old diary from 11 years ago; then, I was at the end of my tether, brutally unhappy, and trying to leave him. I didn’t manage to. Cos of the kids.
I regret the wasted time.
But I have left him now. My kids are fine; neither blames me; they see their dad for what he is, and have some sympathy and love but see how difficult it is to be with him. I am, already, broadly speaking, happy.
Last week I was catatonic.
My advice - if it’s crossed your mind to leave, do it. Get out. Don’t wait till you’re considering how you’ll top yourself instead.
It’s your life, not theirs. live it.
