u/Desperate_Pop_1152

It’s been about ten days since we separated and it’s all hitting me really hard today. It’s over. My favorite person in the world is no longer in my life. The future I’d imagined with him—the kids and growing old—is never happening. We’ll never sit on the couch and eat dinner and laugh about our days ever again.

Yes he was a liar. A cheater. An addict. But he was also my husband. My baby. My first love. These things feel very hard to reconcile right now.

Ever since I was a little girl I always imagined being a wife and mom. I imagined other things for myself like having a career and traveling the world. But I wanted to have my own little family so badly. To have people that I cared for and who cared for me. A family to create loving memories with and to be so excited to come home to everyday. And now I won’t have that. At least not any time soon. And not with the one person I wanted so badly to do it with.

I think the initial anger I felt towards him is wearing off and now I just feel incredibly sad. It’s 3pm and I haven’t gotten out of bed yet. My apartment is such a mess. Every item in it feels like a memory of our last 12 years together and I just don’t know where to begin with sorting through all of it.

I don’t really know what the purpose of this post is. I guess I’m just looking for reassurance that all of this will get easier. That I’ve made the right choice to end things. That staying in a dead bedroom marriage with an addict is worse than what I’m feeling right now. Because at this very moment, it doesn’t feel like it…

My husband took his things and left our home today after 12 years together. The last six months have been terrible. We haven’t had sex at all in the last year and a half and it’s led to me blowing up on him many times. Because I know what not having sex means when you’re with a porn addict.

He left a jacket behind and I decided to look through the pockets. What do I find? 4 loose Cialis pills. So I guess I’m the only fucking idiot who hasn’t been having sex cause I’m waiting for my porn sick husband to get better. He’s made me feel SO CRAZY for feeling like something was up these last few months/asking him if there were other women in the picture (besides the ones on his phone). His dick absolutely cannot get up for his wife who fucking loves him but he’ll take a pill to make sure he gets up for and can fuck another woman!!!

Omg I am seething with rage. I married a fucking sociopath!

I had brunch with my family for Mother’s day today while he was at home alone. Him being home alone was my biggest trigger. I was a nervous wreck the whole brunch. Wondering if he was using while I was away. Knowing he was. When I came home it looked like he hadn’t left the couch once in the three hours I was gone. He had planned to go the gym, wash dishes, and prepare sauce for tonight’s dinner. What probably happened was that he got stuck in a trance jerking off to the women on his phone instead. And I just fucking lost it. It didn’t matter if it was true or not, he was guilty to me. Like he had been 100s of times in the past. I yelled and sobbed. I told him that I couldn’t live like this anymore and that he needed to leave. He didn’t try to calm me down this time. He didn’t try to defend himself. He packed up all of his things in 30 minutes and left for good.

12 years of DDays. Of promises to “fix it” that never came true. And now my marriage is over. The first and only man I’ve ever loved is gone. I’m left a shell of the person I was before I met him. The one that had so much love to give. The one that could never imagine how much someone who “loves” her could betray her. It all just hurts so fucking much

I woke up in the middle of the night to go pee and found him on the couch with his headphones in, watching a video on his phone and jerking off. He’d probably been doing this for hours. He immediately got defensive and shouted “I couldn’t sleep!” Sorry for being so inconsiderate of your need to fantasize about women other than your wife to lull yourself to sleep.

I’m 32 years old. I’ve spent 12 years with this man, my whole 20s, and the majority of it mentally torturing myself about not being enough to satisfy him. Or to even arouse him anymore. It’s been a year and a half since he’s touched me!!!!!

Now I’m here. In bed at noon. So emotionally distressed about last night that I feel physically ill. That I called out of work. That I cried so much my head is pounding. That I’m thinking about uncorking the bottle of wine in the cupboard and drowning myself in it. I feel disgusting. I hate my body. My face. I hate looking in the mirror. Being naked in the shower. Getting dressed.

And while I’m here, he’s at work. Like it’s a normal day. I guess for him it is. He’s probably on Instagram messaging other women right now. Or maybe counting down the minutes until lunchtime so he can go watch porn in the bathroom. Maybe he’s downloaded Tinder again. Not to look for a hookup (according to him) but because swiping arouses him.

It’s HIS problem but it feels like I’m the only one suffering from it. How is that fair???!