It was only in therapy that they raised questions about my marriage.
Well, good for that therapist!
I, too, had an impressive breakdown. I was in my early forties, with a glorious career and social life which, while not world-class like yours, was a million miles from what I'd been raised to expect and which did, in many ways, yield the life I had always wanted.
I was being badly bullied, in different ways, by my boss and my husband. My confidence was broken. In therapy, I discovered that my childhood had been abusive (not just 'a bit strict' as I thought) and that I'd chosen different flavours of abusers as partners and best friends. I was shocked but it made sense.
I'd heard the theory that we seek to replay unresolved issues in our adult relationships, in some kind of doomed attempt to rewrite our past. It turned out that it goes deeper than that: my childhood had taught me I was undeserving, that my role is to appease sad bullies, and that I had a duty to share whatever assets I had. I'm over-summarising, obviously. To summarise even further, I was trained to be a cheerful sacrifice to those who required it of me.
This explained everything. I broke down because the dual bullies would not be appeased or satisfied - and because I hadn't understood that this was what I was trying to do. I grasped that I needed to step out of this cyclical pattern, yet lacked the tools to live any other way. The next ten years were taken up with therapy in which I learned, basically, who I really am and what normal relationship expectations look like.
It's incredibly hard work - some of it feels like living in a horror movie (!) as you learn to reframe your own, personal experiences through a lens of self-compassion. If you do the work, though, you come out wise and I'm not afraid to apply that word to myself.
I don't have a happy ending for you. I lost my career, my home, my friendships and much of my health. However, I don't think I could've continued living in denial: it had to break eventually. I like being wise 😁 and I am, despite my very reduced circumstances and capacities, content. This isn't something I'd experienced before; I used to think contentment was a consolation prize. Now I don't care if it is!
Get your rental. Buy a book on self-compassion and do the exercises. Play music. Perhaps experiment with different foods, even with changing your look. Do the volunteering. Keep going to therapy. Find out who you are, and love yourself for it 