Last year was an annus horribilis as Queen E would have put it.
A year ago this week I discovered my DH had a serious porn habit which he'd hidden from me for 10 years. I felt like a right lemon - no wonder he'd always been secretive, controlling, manipulative and never been that into me. But pregnant and shit scared I stayed with him "for ths kids" in particular my unborn baby.
Some months passed and hed sought no help. I stayed put as I was on maternity leave and had no family nearby to offer support. I begged him to try and change but as he tried to fight his porn habit he grew angry, aggressive towards my DS (aged 4), and even more manipulative. I made the decision to get thru the year, build my strength up, get some money together then leave (he refused to leave the house). I saw a solicitor etc etc and started planning my move. Which by all accounts was really exciting - and fueled with girl power I knew I could do it.
I had the baby. I got my conifdence back...he carried on being outwardly aggressive towards the children (full of remorse the next day - arent they always) and I went on to find hed been contacting prostitutes and ordering kinky ladies undies off the web (in the 10 years previously, not in those recent months). YUCK.
Meanwhile as operation "Escape from Gloucestertraz" was underway I met someone else and fell in love. Happy ending was in sight.
A year on, Mr Hunk wants me to move in with him. And who wouldnt? He treats me like im actually normal - hes good fun to be with, upbeat, all round top dude who my family love. Hes even relocated 40 miles so my kids can be near their dad.
So why - why oh why, when im about to take the step of moving out of my marital home...towards actual happiness, do i feel so so so awful??