I'm posting anonymously - for reasons that will possibly become clear in a second.
I'm really upset, like hyperventilating crying upset, and the only thing that I feel will make it better is to hurt myself. This is something I haven't done in years, and not a soul knows I've done it in the past (very creative with hiding cuts in the creases of limbs etc.).
I'm absolutely not going to hurt myself tonight. My 15 yr old girl is upstairs in her room, she's number one in the list of priorities and thus would never do it under the same roof as her, but she goes to her dad's for the night tomorrow and I'm planning on doing it then. It gives me a sense of control when everything else is going crazy.
My "D"H has broken me, again. He cheated on me in 2013, he gaslit me for years, even when I was begging him for the truth, until I found out for sure in 2018. I stayed, we "recovered", he did so much to regain my trust. Or so I thought.
We own a small business (well smallish, we employ 25 people). I am a director. I was supposed to be an active partner, we argued over the years as I was consistently left on the periphery, I didn't have access to the finances for years, he always gave me an excuse as to why I didn't have replacement bank access details when mine stopped working pre Covid. I regularly asked him how we were doing financially, he sad "not bad", "pretty good", I checked with him
that major creditors had been paid, that pensions had been paid into (they have, I've now checked), every time I knew account submissions to companies house were due I would get assurance after assurance that it was all in hand. Every time there was a letter through our door saying the accounts were late, there was always a reason, always assurances that our accountant was taking care of it. I am a fucking IDIOT for believing him. If I'm honest, I never felt 100% sure deep down. I got myself another job last November, which I love and I've been very successful in so far - it gives me purpose, it gives me a renewed sense of identity and self worth. Thank god for this job.
The shit hit the fan on Thursday when our business partner (owns a very small percentage of the business, he's a silent partner for all intents and purposes but listed as a director) got a call from the bank to say that the ltd company had been struck off due to not filing any accounts (even the extension deadline had been exhausted), and that our bounce back loan of circa 22k and the overdraft that he had managed to run up since the last accounts were filed of 20k were both immediately due in full.
After all my pleas for involvement, information, offers of help and support ad infinitum (even after I started the new job), reassurances from him that all is well, we are now in a position that we may well have to sell our house to pay the debt, and shut a business down that has been running since the 80s (we took it over in 2013). I checked companies house, they have issued no less than 5 compulsory strike-off notices since 2020. I am livid with myself. Covid hit us hard, but that doesn't explain why accounts were submitted late, or not at all in this case. He's submitted a plea in writing to have a final chance to submit the accounts and he's meeting the accountant on Monday (it isn't her fault, she's been sending him emails asking for more information that he's just been ignoring), when they'll complete and file them if they can - in the vain hope that this will appease the Companies House gods.
He is saying all the right things, "I've fucked up, you deserve better" etc. he is telling me he has been depressed for a while, and I know depression takes many forms but all I've see him do over the past year is having fun with his mates, playing in his band, spending inordinate amounts of time on frivolous projects - which I thought he was doing as he was on top of the business stuff. He's been working from home about 90% of the time since Covid (I don't work from home), but unless I ask him to do something specific in the house it usually doesn't get done. Often the breakfast stuff is still on the table when I get home. Our lovely house is currently a shithole - it doesn't help that I'm currently anaemic so when I get home I am dog tired and can only just about make dinner - admittedly he does cook sometimes, and clears up if he doesn't cook, he's pretty good with the kitchen stuff.
He has had some shit thrown at him this year by life - he was very ill a few months ago and was hospitalised, which put him out for about a month, his estranged father died (complex grief is a thing, of that I'm sure). He has every reason to be depressed.
But he's lied and he's lied and he's lied. He's jeopardised us, our house, the livelihoods of 25 people, our friend/business partner and his family (who are godparents to my DD, as I am to theirs), not that I am going to let them financially suffer - this is on us. All because he couldn't say the words, "I need help". Why? Because of his pride? I just don't understand. He's crying a lot to me, suggesting we would be better off without him - I told him that suicide would be the most selfish thing he could do to me. Was that cruel? I'm begging him to see someone, to talk to someone - but I've also told him it can't be me right now as I am so so angry and upset.
He's currently on a golfing weekend - it was already paid for and to be honest I told him to go, I needed him away from me. It also happens to be an annual memorial golf weekend in memory of his friend that died by suicide.
The only thing I feel will help me feel better is to cut myself. I can't call Samaritans, not with my DD upstairs. They don't offer an online chat service yet, does anyone know of a service that does? I think I need to talk to someone.