I’m five months post-divorce and struggling to move on.

Background: My ex-wife and I were together for nearly 27 years. We married very young and had kids immediately—mostly her idea. I was in love and went along with it. From the beginning, she prioritized the kids and put no real effort into our relationship.

She was a stay-at-home mom, which I was fine with when the kids were little. I focused on my career, even going back to school while working full-time. I hustled hard, sometimes not seeing my kids all day—or even for weeks at a time when traveling. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t resent her for spending all that time with them while I worked myself to exhaustion to provide.

Once the kids were in school full-time, I encouraged her to find a job. She refused, saying her anxiety prevented her from working. She had delayed even learning to drive until her twenties, only doing so because I pushed her.

Our relationship was “fine” on the surface—we got along—but I wasn’t happy. As we aged, our goals clearly diverged. I’m ambitious and driven; she wasn’t. Despite working long hours, I still helped around the house. The house was often messy, and although I resented it, I bottled up my feelings because she did take care of the kids. I was also the better cook (something she admitted), so I often made family meals after work.

When we fought, it was usually about money, housework, or our sexless marriage. She never initiated intimacy. After our second child, our sex life essentially disappeared. At first, she blamed exhaustion from childcare. Later, when the kids were older, she cited endometriosis—legitimate, but still another roadblock.

She never planned date nights; that was always on me. I remember one anniversary when I arranged childcare, took her out for dinner, booked a hotel—yet when the moment came, she wasn’t in the mood. This happened often, and over time my confidence took a huge hit.

Eventually she got a work-from-home job making about $1,500/month, but that barely contributed. Meanwhile, I was making big career moves, sometimes living off credit cards to get through, and I begged her to find better work. She refused. Her anxiety was always the excuse.

At some point, I fell out of love. I still cared about her but wasn’t in love anymore. Shame and fear of divorce kept me stuck. Years passed with no improvement. She made no effort to spend time with me outside of grocery runs. I felt used and neglected.

About eight years ago, I told her we were “separated in all but name” but would stay married for the kids. Looking back, I know that was a mistake.

My career eventually paid off in a huge way. I’ve always been disciplined with money, saving since my early twenties, and by my mid-forties I’d built significant wealth. She, meanwhile, never saved a dime. Any money she made, she spent.

As our kids grew into adults, I started spending more time with friends, and we drifted further apart. She later tried to rekindle things, but by then I was too far gone. She eventually got a job outside the home (just above minimum wage) and began an affair with her boss, a married man. I found evidence—sex toy purchases in her email—but didn’t confront her. We had already agreed years earlier that we were basically separated.

About 10 months ago, right before Thanksgiving, she asked me where our marriage was headed. We had a long, emotional talk, but divorce wasn’t mentioned. Days later, she turned cold. When I pressed, she admitted she had already filed. I felt blindsided—especially since she hadn’t told me during our earlier talk.

To make things worse, she hired the most notoriously sleazy lawyer in town. When I mentioned his name, the attorney I consulted urged me to end the phone call and meet in person—that’s how bad this guy’s reputation was.

Fortunately, I convinced her to agree to a dissolution. We divided assets ourselves. It was hard to part with nearly half my savings, but I disclosed everything and wanted to be fair.

The real sticking point was alimony. I felt I’d already given enough and shouldn’t have to keep supporting her. My lawyer explained that if we didn’t include an alimony clause, a judge might push her to hire an attorney—which could’ve gone badly for me. In my state, the standard is one year of alimony for every three years of marriage. For me, that meant nine years.

I resisted but eventually agreed. We settled on an amount—fortunately, a small fraction of my salary and much less than I might have been forced to pay otherwise.

Now, five months in, I’ve made five payments. Every month it stings. She earns about one-fifth of what I do, but it feels unfair. For decades, I supported her while she refused to go to school, refused to build a career, and spent her time at home with the kids—which she loved—while I worked, saved, and built a future for all of us. And now I will continue supporting her for nearly a decade. She will continue to take advantage of my hard work.

I feel used. Unappreciated. Like a chump. And I can’t move on—mentally or emotionally.

My questions: • Does this get easier over time? • Should I ask about offering a lump sum instead? Is that even possible post-divorce? • I did include a clause ending alimony if she cohabits with a partner, but she’s smart. She calls the guy she’s seeing a “friend.”

TL;DR: I spent 27 years in a loveless, sexless marriage with someone who refused to contribute financially. Now divorced, I’m struggling with resentment and the emotional burden of alimony payments. How do I move on?

Disclosure 1: I did ask AI to help rewrite my original text to make it shorter and easier to read (hence the extensive use of the em dash). However, the story is 100% real, unfortunately.

Disclosure 2: Throwaway account. I have too many friends, including my ex, who know my regular Reddit account.