••Long *I wrote a cathartic social media post which I have put below that explains. I wrote this weeks ago at the point everything turned to shite again. I wish I was brave enough to actually post it publicly rather than on here but I can't.
I need to find the strength to not go back. This is the second time I've left. I don't want to get sucked back in again but I'm already feeling doubt over my decision. Im devastated and feel like I've wasted five years of my life. I'm also so angry at myself for feeling so upset and hurt. Today he left our home for good and sent a message ripping me to shreds straight after. Cried all day. I need to get a grip.
I’ve never been one to air my personal struggles on social media, and honestly, I cringe when I see it. But after spending so long feeling invisible and unheard, I know it’s time to make a change before I completely lose myself. If sharing this, despite the embarrassment, helps even one person out of a dark place, then it will have been worth it. It’s also my truth, which this time needs to be heard, and something I will struggle to speak out loud when the inevitable questions are asked by others.
So why did my relationship end—the picture-perfect Facebook relationship with the romantic proposal and the grand wedding plans?
This time, it ended after I confronted him about a small but significant issue: his lack of transparency around times. That single question set off an explosion. He accused me yet again of “having a problem with his daughter”—a baseless accusation he’s hurled at me countless times over the years. My problem was in fact that he had lied, albeit by omission, about the timings and his whereabouts that evening. No matter how many times I said it was not to do with him being at where he was or being with his daughter, he insisted that I had a vendetta against his daughter. An ongoing accusation of his that had been thrown at me more times than I bare to remember.
My attempts to defend myself or clarify my intentions were futile. The conversation quickly spiralled into more accusations and shouting. This wasn’t just an isolated incident, it was part of a toxic pattern that had defined our relationship. During the ongoing chaos he was creating, I stupidly said there had been times where I had been made to feel an outsider and not part of the family, the situation escalated further. He declared that he was contacting his family as "witnesses" to these incidents, proclaiming himself judge and jury of my feelings. He later told me he had contacted his family and they confirmed that his daughter had not been sarcastic, or physically or verbally aggressive towards me. He said the family were not happy with me. This was a bizarre turn of events. He had falsely accused me of making an accusation about his daughter, all stemming from nothing more than me mentioning that I’d felt excluded.
What followed was days of relentless shouting, accusations, and circular arguments. He’d repeat the same grievances over and over, cycling between blaming me, calling me names, and insisting he wanted to fix things. One moment he loved me, the next he hated me. One moment he wanted to stay, the next he was leaving. Over and over. It was enough to make anyone lose their sanity.
In between these episodes, he’d interrogate me about people on my social media, walk into the room just to stare at me before leaving, or demand I turn off the light and shut the door—while laughing in my face. Occasionally, he’d throw in an “I love you” or “I want to work this out” just to confuse and manipulate me further. At one point, he even claimed I accused him of “beating the dog,” simply because I asked him not to push the dog off him. According to him, I’d now alienated him from the dog entirely, and it was my fault he could never have a relationship with it.
This time, I was DONE. I’d finally had enough of the toxic, manipulative, and controlling bullshit. I was taking my life back.
The last time he ended things was just over a month prior to this. I use this particular argument over countless others, as this was the one I guess that really gave me the clarity that I had been missing and opened up my eyes to the fact that anyone who loved you would not behave this way. This one was the beginning of the end for me.
This time* it ended after a conversation about my recent struggles with menopause symptoms and weight gain. I shared with him a bad experience I had with my GP when I sought help. At first, he was supportive, even offering to pay for me to see a private doctor, which was a kind gesture. I explained that I didn’t feel comfortable accepting the money, and that going private wasn’t practical as I did not have the finance to continually fund it. This, it turns out was my downfall. His take on this was that I was not willing to do anything to help myself and I was not willing to consider the impact that my menopause was having on him. I was told, “I was making things all about me, as usual!!”
From there, things escalated. He started saying I wasn’t helping myself because I no longer went to the gym. He asked, “If my appearance changed, would you still find me attractive?” When I asked if he had lost attraction to me, he admitted it wasn’t because of the weight itself, but because he felt I wasn’t doing anything to help myself, stating he had a problem with my personality more than my weight. I tried to explain that the GP appointment was me trying to help myself. I even listed several other things I had done over the past few months to address my symptoms. But his truth remained: I was no longer attractive to him because, in his eyes, I wasn’t helping myself.
The conversation turned into the usual circular argument. Him screaming at me, repeatedly listing all the things I had done wrong this time and over the years, and everything that was wrong with me. Then, as always, he would switch gears and say he wanted to work things out. Every time I took a step forward to meet him somewhere near the middle ground, he would restart the loop—shouting, screaming, telling me again how I was the problem. Over and over, around and around a complete and utter crazy making loop.
After 48 hours of his constant arguments and put-downs, I finally snapped. I told him I’d had enough of him telling me everything that was wrong with me and to leave me alone. Yes, I was angry. It took me two days to reach that point, and I’m not a saint—no one is. If you had heard the screaming and the things that were said, even a saint would’ve lost their composure.
Then, a few hours later, he sends me a recording of the moment I finally reacted (which I am more than willing to show anyone as I am not ashamed of it). It was a trap. He had pushed and provoked me for days, only to record my reaction. What the actual hell? This guy was supposed to love me!!
If I tried to capture every single time he "ended it," this post would turn into a dissertation. The truth is, he threatened to end our relationship more times than I can count, and it became the norm. Every time I finally agreed to let it end, he’d immediately want to fix things. But if I said I did not want it to end, he’d insist it was over. It was an exhausting, relentless back-and-forth—a cycle that repeated over and over again.
I once read that when someone first threatens to end a relationship during an argument, it’s like they’ve walked into the home and fired a gun into the air. No one is physically harmed, but everyone hears the deafening shot. From that point on, everyone knows that person has a weapon they can use whenever they want, and eventually, someone will get hurt. The person holding the gun holds all the power and control, and more often than not, they’re fully aware of it.
But no, according to him, every time he’d say I brought this on myself. Despite having numerous conversations about how constantly threatening to leave shakes the very foundation of a relationshiphow it erodes trust, self-esteem, and dignityit continued. Yet somehow, the blame always ended up on me.
The old behaviours that he promised to stop never ever did. Within hours of any argument, he would block me on social media and his phone—a deliberate attempt to isolate and publicly embarrass me. Then came the accusing me of things I had done or said that simply never happened. But it didn’t matter; once these accusations started, I would feel myself slipping into an all too familiar confusion. I couldn’t tell up from down, right from wrong, real from unreal. When someone accuses you of saying or doing things you didn’t, after a while, you begin to doubt your own memory, your own judgment. You start to question everything you know to be true, including your own sanity. It’s a slow, insidious process.*
So why did she stay?* I know that's what many of you are probably thinking. It’s a common reaction. I’m not ashamed to admit that I stayed because I loved him. I stayed because I cared about him. I’m a helper, a fixer, a people-pleaser—I wanted to make his life better, to heal his hurts. I also stayed because I was afraid of being alone, and somehow, being in a bad relationship felt less terrifying than being lonely. I stayed because I couldn’t think clearly, because when things were good, it was the best relationship I’d ever had.
But most of all, I stayed because I loved him more than I loved myself or my sanity. It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s the truth. And there are far more people in this situation than we realise. People who feel so worthless in a relationship that they endure anything out of fear, obligation, guilt, and toxic attachment. *
So what’s the purpose of this outpouring?* It is for anyone in similar situations, who feels utterly useless and alone to know this: you are not alone. There are people out there who understand what you’re going through. You are not going crazy, and you are not the awful person they make you out to be.
I won’t tell you to leave or to take specific actions because I understand that such advice often feels unhelpful and unrealistic. When you’re in the thick of it, it’s not as simple as just walking away. You may feel trapped in a cycle of confusion and despair, and hearing someone tell you to "just leave" can feel dismissive. It’s not just about the relationship; it’s about the years of shared experiences, the moments that felt genuine, and the love that once seemed unbreakable.
It’s also about the fear that comes with leaving. Fear of being alone, fear of the unknown, fear of losing what little stability you have left. Leaving isn’t just a physical act; it’s an emotional upheaval that can shake the very foundation of who you are.
Instead, I want to encourage you to acknowledge your feelings and validate your experiences. You deserve to be heard and supported. Understand that it’s okay to feel lost and that your feelings are legitimate. Understand it’s not ok to be treated that way.
You are stronger than you think, and your journey to reclaiming your sense of self and well-being is valid. Remember, you are not defined by someone else’s perception of you. You have the right to seek happiness and to prioritise you.
For me, there’s finally no turning back. Part of sharing this publicly is to hold myself accountable; it makes it harder to revert to old habits because I know I’ll look like a right twat if I do. I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I won’t say I don’t miss him, and I’ll even be honest and admit that I still love him. But I won’t go back. His distorted perceptions of me will not define who I am anymore.*
You almost destroyed me, but you did not succeed. It’s funny because you claimed my personality had changed, that I had become someone who just laid down and let life kick the shit out of me. How very, very wrong you were. I know I am an honest, decent, and kind person, and I won’t let you take that away from me ever again.