I don’t know why I’m doing this, but I hope it helps someone.

I’m a little over a year and a half post separation, not divorced yet. Trust me, the delay isn’t because of anything on my end. I was married for 12 years, and it was never what anyone would consider a “healthy” marriage at any point.

We got married because she got pregnant, and I didn’t want to be left out of my child’s life. Foolish decisions, false assumptions, and a complete lack of understanding about relationships and responsibilities… that’s what built the foundation. I didn’t really want to marry her, and that inevitably turned into resentment, constant disagreements, no shared goals, and eventually hatred. It was miserable.

I’m just as responsible for the failure of that marriage as she is. In some ways, I feel more responsible. I locked myself into the mindset of “this is my life, I just have to suck it up.” Truth is, I wanted a divorce from day one, but I was stubborn, and so was she. We were young and didn’t know what the hell we were doing.

About five years in, after all the fighting, the “trying to make it work,” and mentally beating myself into the ground, I gave up, not on the marriage, but on myself. I accepted that this was my life. Her, the kids, and misery.

Part of what kept me there was the fear of losing half of everything. I was the only one working. Everything, retirement, savings, the house, was on me. I told myself I was providing, hoping maybe it would be appreciated someday. It wasn’t. So I adapted. I stopped arguing. I said “yes” to everything because it was easier than constant conflict. I went to work, came home, cooked, slept, and repeated. I became emotionless. I felt nothing, for anyone.

I lived like that for about seven years. I honestly don’t remember my kids growing up during that time. There’s a huge gap in my memory. The only things I clearly remember are breaking down maybe twice a year, when it was either cry or end it all. That’s it. That was my life.

About a year and a half before we split, I made a friend, my first real friend in a long time. Eventually, I started suspecting something was going on between him and my wife. I sat on that suspicion for about a year. Then one day, I told her I was done. She immediately went to his house. So yeah… I was right.

Silver lining, I got proof of the affair. She got zero alimony. She did get the house and 30% of my pension, though… lol.

The two months between saying I was done and actually moving out were the highest and lowest points of my life. The first few weeks? Amazing. I didn’t care what she wanted, needed, or thought. Not my problem anymore. I felt free for the first time in years. Then reality hit. I had to find a place to live. Pay a ridiculous amount in child support. Start over completely. And for the first time in a long time, I started self reflecting. Everything hit at once, grief, but not for the marriage. I grieved for my kids, for the life I thought I was supposed to have, for the time I lost, for who I became. I felt like a complete failure. I was angry at myself for staying so long.

That last month in the house was rock bottom. No plan, no direction, no idea what the future looked like. Just fear. I slipped back into survival mode, but this time, I had to climb out of it. My emotions started coming back, all at once. Different emotions for different losses, all in different stages of grief at the same time. I can’t even describe how confusing that is. I was a wreck.

The first night in my new place, I bought Wendy’s for dinner. I still have the drink cup from that night. It sounds stupid, but it’s not. That cup was the first thing in a long time that was actually mine. Life didn’t magically get better after I moved out. There were attorneys, false allegations, and a ton of money being burned. But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t any of that. It was rebuilding myself. Trying to figure out who you are after years of shutting yourself down… that’s the hardest part. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Nothing compares to the damage a bad marriage can do to your identity.

At 38, I had no idea who I was. That’s the real battle after separation. Not just healing from the past, but building something new when you don’t even know where to start. It takes years and I’m still working on it.

If there’s one thing I can say to anyone going through this, set boundaries early. My ex still tries to control things like my time, my decisions, even now. Keep your responses short, factual, and emotionless. Don’t engage. Don’t argue. It doesn’t matter if she’s mad. You’re not responsible for making her happy anymore.

Protect your sanity.

I’m not where I want to be yet, but I’m a hell of a lot better than where I came from. Growth takes effort, every day. Self reflection is everything. You have to understand why you feel the way you do if you want to change it.

I truly wish you guys the best.

P.S. It’s not gay to focus on yourself lol.