LONG post ahead—interminable situation. Looking for perspective from objective parties. Simple, “leave him!” type answers don’t address the underlying stuckness I’m in or why I went back after breaking up the first time. I very very much appreciate anyone reading all the way through and offering insight/stories!
Before I get into the muck, it’s relevant to note what my (f,31) ex-fiancee/current boyfriend (m,34) adds to my life: he’s my best friend and greatest companion. Handsome, bright, talented, affectionate, romantic—we never run out of things to talk about and I always feel that he is listening to me when I am speaking to him (even if he doesn’t agree with me or understand me). We share interests and a sense of humour, have similar family backgrounds, and some (not all) important life goals/values. He does most of the cooking, shopping and even cleaning. He pays half of everything (though, I imagine I’ll contribute more in the future). He comes from a middle-class but generous family who’ve offered to buy him an apartment once he’s chosen where he wants to live (but who knows when that will be). His family has embraced me, and he gets along well with my family and friends.
Now the muck: He insisted on an open relationship early on. I agreed to it unthinkingly. While he never acted on the “open relationship”, he insisted on keeping the possibility “open” years in, even after we’d become engaged (this is my fault too, I know) and I’d made it clear I loathed the idea. It was one of the main reasons for my ending our engagement, but we have been explicitly monogamous since reuniting.
About 9 months into our relationship the first time, and 3 weeks into my first salaried job (which he helped me get through his connection) the pandemic hit and my office became remote. He quit his job abruptly, citing conflict with his manager and concerns about the virus. He picked up gig economy work online, and I moved into his apartment to help pay rent. I was uncomfortable with him quitting his job at the beginning of a global recession, but he wanted to pivot into the arts, so applied to a prestigious art school abroad; it wasn’t clear what would happen to us if he got in.
He proposed to me one day at home (spur of the moment, no wedding date planned), and I accepted despite my reservations regarding the prospect of an open relationship and unsteady employment (I was in love and thrilled to be engaged).
Midway through the first pandemic summer, and about a year into our relationship we visited his parent’s home in Spain (his dad is Spanish). He stayed for over a month, while I returned home after two weeks for work. It really hurt me that he did not return with me given that we’d just become engaged (rings and announced at this point) and that I’d have to isolate for weeks alone—which was hellish (tiny, studio apartment; shared bathroom with the weird man next door; my own family in crisis) and I resented him for it. I proposed that I find my own apartment, that things were moving too fast. Meanwhile, he was rejected from the art school. In the end, the housing crisis (and frankly, my desire to live with a partner) resulted in us continuing to live together. This new, shared apartment became the only “home” I’ve known beyond my family home as we made it our own, and I was delighted.
That spring, he re-applied to the art school abroad without consulting me despite us being engaged and sharing a lease. His plan for us was that I would quit my job (a job I didn’t like, but which paid for my life) and move abroad with him; we would live in an apartment paid for by his parents (which I was not really comfortable with) while I looked for work. I’d expressed a lot of interest in moving abroad early in our relationship, I just wasn’t necessarily prepared to do so “forever” or under these circumstances. By the spring/summer 2021, he became restless with work and our little, domestic life in Ottawa so I began to prepare an application for an EU country work Visa to give us some options. In the meantime, he took another lengthy trip to his parent’s house in Europe, which I joined him on for two weeks before returning home for work, isolating alone, again.
By the end of summer, he was accepted to the art school in the UK, and suddenly my life was uprooted: I cancelled the EU Visa application but failed to get the necessary Visa to join him in the UK. It was the dead of Canadian winter, and the pandemic lockdowns were still severe. I was sent into a mental tailspin by the looming prospect of my fiancé abruptly moving continents without me. I experienced chronic stomach pain and anxiety. He left for school in January, and I, at 28 years old, moved back in with my parents (bless them) for a few months to decide whether to re-apply for the UK visa. I am not proud of the person I was at this time—catastrophic, fearful, entitled, myopic…not good. Nothing will devastate your ego like someone saying they love, want to marry you and have children with you while demanding an open relationship (though never act on it), and moving countries with or without you.
In March, I made a disastrous visit to see him in the UK, during which time he was (I guess reasonably) preoccupied with his studies, we fought a lot, and I experienced something like a narcissistic collapse. I ended our engagement a week after returning home and imposed NC for 6 months in light of my feeling extremely mentally unwell, as if I were coming off of drugs (attachment to him). I spent the next months fortifying my job (which I’d neglected amidst the drama of the pandemic and the relationship), finding an apartment, speaking to a therapist (in vain), and going on a million depressing tinder dates. My eating disorder flared up during this time and I lost a lot of weight very quickly. I wasn’t sleeping either. I was profoundly lonely and unmoored despite seeing my family regularly and friends weekly, joining a writing group and taking driving lessons (I failed my test). Eating alone in my apartment was ghastly.
I’d hoped/expected to feel some relief or something after we’d broken up, but I felt only fear and regret over not giving it a try, after all, he did offer some kind of future—marriage and an apartment, and I missed him. My future had been clipped like a flower bud. I felt alienated from work, my brother was (and is) mentally unwell and lives with my parents (so that spending time with them is often more distressing than comforting as I am not able to remedy it), my beloved grandmother was sick (and has since passed away), and the city had not yet recovered from lockdowns.
He respected the NC, but I broke it myself less than three months in. He enthusiastically resumed our correspondence. Within a few months, I’d secured the Visa, quit my job, and found a new, remote position where I could work from the UK. This time we would be monogamous. Nonetheless, I had serious misgivings about our reunion. While preparing to leave for the UK, I was offered a more attractive job in Ontario (slightly worse pay, but better prospects and security) through another connection of his, but I turned it down. I have some serious regrets over that decision, but I had to follow through on the UK and settle things between us.
The stress and doubt surrounding the move/reunion/new job saw my health deteriorate rapidly: I gained weight back as rapidly as I’d lost it, lost my period for months, got acne for the first time in my life and was diagnosed with PCOS shortly after arriving in the UK. I have failed to find work in the UK which has lowered my self-confidence (especially because I’m paid in Canadian dollars, so am DECIMATING my income by converting it to GBP).
We’ve been in this weird state of reconciliation for 6(!) months now. I still love him, but I am not flourishing in the UK while he is (he’s graduated now, working on art projects). There’s a tentative deadline of one year from now when his UK visa will run out, and he’ll apply for a new one, at which point we’d have to marry to stay together or break up for good—but I’m doubting my ability to ever, truly disentangle myself.
Regardless of whatever happens between him and me, I have lost faith/hope in my life in general. I don’t know whether to prioritize finding a relationship that could facilitate children or to re-direct my money/energy to finding a true vocation or new job (which will inevitably mean deferring children and I’m already in my 30’s). Should I stay in the UK now that I’m here (with or without him), or move home?
I’m susceptible to catastrophic thoughts of “ending up alone” not because I’m totally repulsive (though, I have my moments), but because I only seem compatible with/attracted to impulsive, somewhat immature men who then make me feel crazy. I feel as if we deserve one another, and that I have as good a chance with him as anyone (at least I love him). I’ve lost faith in a happy future, with him or on my own. Perhaps I’m just being impatient or unrealistic about the amount of compromise a partnership entails. I could, feasibly, be married, living in a purchased apartment on a longer Visa one or two years from now (though, I don’t feel mentally well enough for children right now), but I fear that won’t address the underlying unhappiness/instability.
Help me MN! Help me sort out what I want and/or what is good for me!
PS it’s worth noting that a not-dissimilar scenario preceded the collapse of my older brother who is depressed, unemployed and lives with my aging parents. He too was dating an ambitious, adventurous partner who left him while he failed to find meaningful employment, sending him into a morbid depression that has consumed him for 4 years now. While my heart aches for my brother, his story also strikes a paralyzing fear in me that I should end up just like him.