I have some regrets.
He became, as the years went by, a relatively good husband, but was not a good dad. He still inadvertently reveals his dislike for one of our children.
I left because I could see he was damaging the children and I couldn’t respect myself if I stayed with him, knowing that. I acknowledge that I should have left much earlier and suspect doing so might have actually been easier.
Life since has been financially tough; I’d say that is partly because I should have left earlier. I’m going to have to work till I’m 67 and I’m physically already drained.
I miss having the company of having a partner. I guess I could try to find a new relationship, but I don’t feel ready and I’m not sure I ever will. I can also never recreate having a family with someone. When things go wrong, there is nobody there to help.
My final push to leave involved him doing something reprehensible and careless that I hadn’t expected as it had been years since he’d behaved that way. I look back at that marriage-ending moment and wish it had never happened. It was a moment of stupidty for him, the last straw for me.
What I will say is that I’m now four years separated and in a very unstable situation, which will probably improve in time. I hope the regrets will fade as I rebuild a better solo life. Going back isn’t on the cards.