To say that the past 18 months have been difficult would be an understatement.

I slowly unfurled the truth of my ‘marriage’ and what I was allowing to happen to me.  I  voiced my concerns, tried to get things back on track, attempted to have my needs recognised, and in return…an onslaught of abuse, name calling, blaming and nastiness.

I sought counselling, I stopped concealing the truth from family, friends and strangers, I read everything I could to aid my understanding…until I felt strong again.

Two weeks ago, I told husband we needed either to devise a plan to live together separately or to actually separate.

And for the first time in years of trying to talk to him about our situation and meeting a brick wall, I became aware that he was listening to me.. He was listening because he knew I meant what I was saying and he didn’t like what he was hearing.  He didn’t want to accept it.  He wanted to try again, to put things right.  Why wouldn’t I give him a second(?) chance. It was my fault the relationship was ending because he wanted to try again and I didn’t!

But for me it’s too late.  I don’t believe he can do it.  I don’t believe he wants me for who I am only what I provide for him. In my mind, we are now separated.

He’s angry and nasty – which does nothing to suggest that he wants ME. If he wanted me, he would be kind and caring and affectionate, but he’s made it clear there will be no more affection in this relationship and he’s made no gesture to suggest that things will be different.  And if he can’t pull out all the stops when the chips are down, then he’s never going to, is he?

And so I’m getting on with my life and cutting the ties that bind.

And dancing…