On Thursday, I found the final straw. I was the one who pulled the trigger, but she forced the loaded gun in my hand… metaphorically, of course.

I was calm and I was kind.

I did not sleep a wink.

The panic attacks came in earnest on Friday morning. I took the day off work. I dropped my son off at school, drove a few blocks away, and wept on the phone to someone at my company’s EAP… just for someone to listen.

I came home, I took down all our pictures. I fixed a toilet. I went to therapy where I continued to ball my eyes out.

Saturday, the STBXW spent the day with our son, so I hoped on my impulse-created Tinder and landed a day date. It was incredible. I liked her a lot. She liked me. I had my first first since in 18 years.

I felt good.

But today, the panic attacks are back. Hard.

Tonight, she’s spending the night at the other guy’s place. I’m happy she’s out of the house, I’m devastated knowing she’ll be in his bed. Being loved and held. I’ll be in our king size, crying alone and trying to be quiet enough to not alarm my incredible son.

He’s staying with me and we’re keeping the house. All of this is worth it so long as I still have him. But I’m afraid the panic won’t stop. I know it will. In my mind I know it will. I know I’ll see this through, but I just need someone in my bed to hold me and make me feel loved and wanted.

I just want the panic attacks to stop. I want to sleep. I want an appetite again. I want to go on another date with that incredible girl from Tinder. I want to feel like not only can I move on, but that I actively am.

I know there is real hope. I know this is for the best. I know my son and I will be okay. I just want to feel it. /r/