I’m at a point now where I both love her and hate her. And the part of me that still loves her? I fucking hate that too.

Because yeah, she had good qualities. She was amazing at planning things — days out, holidays, birthdays, Christmas — all the things I’ve always been crap at. She managed the house, looked after the kids, kept everything ticking over. Financially, I was a disaster, and she handled all the bills. We were in a good place because of her, and I never failed to tell her how much I appreciated that. Did I say it enough? Maybe not. I’m human. But I made a point of showing gratitude.

What stings is, I don’t ever really remember her telling me she appreciated me. Maybe she did. I’m not saying the categorically didn’t.

I work full-time, Monday to Friday, in a high-pressure role. The last few months especially have been brutal. I’d get home shattered, take the dogs out for an hour, then maybe — maybe — we’d finally sit down together. But weekends weren’t a break either. Always something to do, long walks, family stuff, errands, dogs again. We barely ever just stopped.

And even when we did get time alone, it was late in the evening when we were both wrecked. She’d read or watch TV. I’d be on the laptop or watch something with her. To me, that’s just being together. That’s what life is like when you live with someone every day. You’re not always full of conversation. You exist side-by-side. And yeah, we had fun sometimes. We were stupid, we messed about, tickled the hell out of each other, and we’d be in fits of laughter. Those moments were real. When it was good — it was fucking amazing.

But apparently, that wasn’t enough for her.

And the day everything changed? It didn’t even start as a fight. I was off work, we’d been out — might’ve been hospital stuff, maybe my daughter’s GCSE drama performance. I don’t remember exactly. What I do remember is coming home, later than usual, and starting to hoover the living room.

She walks in from the kitchen and just goes:
“What are you doing?”

Me:
“Hoovering the living room…”

Her:
“You need to walk the dogs. We’re only like half an hour late.”
(The tone — pure condescension. Like I was being scolded, not spoken to.)

Me:
“It’s fine. I’ll do the cleaning now, walk them after. It’s one day. Chill.”

Her:
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Why are you speaking to me like shit?”

Me:
“I wasn’t. But now you’re literally talking to me like shit.”

Her:
“Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking child.”

Me:
“This shit needs to stop. I can’t do it anymore. Either it stops… or I’m gone.”
(Because I was being spoken to like shit and then accused of exactly what she was doing.)

I still don’t know how it got to that point. One minute I’m cleaning the living room. The next, we’re shouting. The dogs missed one evening walk — it’s not the end of the world. But it blew up.

And that was it. The turning point.

From that day on, she barely spoke to me. Head in her phone from the moment I got home to the moment we went to bed. Totally disengaged. She started doing her medical procedures later, kept getting distracted… I just assumed there was a lot going on in the Uni group she was in. There was always some kind of drama.

At first, I didn’t want to believe it. I’d noticed something was off, but I didn’t challenge it. I didn’t suspect cheating. That wasn’t even on my radar — because I trusted her completely. She’d been cheated on before, and I always thought that meant she’d never do that to someone else.

This went on for about two weeks. Barely speaking. Barely acknowledging each other. I ignored it. I thought maybe it was just a rough patch.

I was dropping Ruby off on a Sunday evening — the first time in four years that I’d done it alone. And I said to her, “Things aren’t good between me and the wife. I don’t know what’s going on.”

She said she’d noticed the tension. No surprise there.

Then comes the Wednesday.

I get home from work. She’s pottering about. Something feels off. She’s sat on the opposite couch — we usually shared the same one. I ask her if she’s okay. She says “yeah” and walks off.

Ten minutes later, she’s sitting on the arm of the couch, not even fully sitting down. Just… lingering. I look at her and say:
“Is there something you want to say?”

She says:
“Yeah.”

Me:
“Right… okay… what’s up?”

Her:
“I just don’t think it’s working.”

I knew it was coming. I could feel it. But still — hearing it hit me like a truck. A thousand thoughts flew through my head, but what came out of my mouth surprised even me:

“Right… okay… (long awkward pause)… so what does that mean?”

Her:
“I’m just not happy.”

Me:
“Okay.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I just shut down. I’ve been here before. I knew how it played out. Something in my brain just flicked to survival mode.
Get out. Get away. Make plans. Move. Now.

My last marriage was a shitshow — and I fought like hell to keep that together. But this one? I loved her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. And still, something in me just knew: Don’t fight this time. It’s already done.

I went to a mate’s place. Stayed there maybe ten days.

Eventually, I had to go back to the house — and from there, well… we all know how the rest went. I did try to fight for us. But during that two-week window of silence and distance, she’d been chatting to someone else on WhatsApp.
She says it wasn’t cheating.
I say it was.
Doesn’t matter now.

She lied to me. Lied about who she was talking to. Lied about where she was going. Tried to get me to stay home with the pets while she went to visit him. Said it was a birthday party. “Everyone is going” It wasn’t. She knew exactly what she was doing.

She painted me as the villain so she could justify what she was doing. She dwelled on every bad moment and ignored the good — and there was so much good. But the control, the gaslighting, the emotional manipulation? It took its toll. Over time, it wore me down.

That’s why I became distant. That’s why I switched off.
She thought I didn’t love her.
I’m convinced she thought I was cheating.
(Which is wild — when the hell did I have the time?)

She tracked me everywhere I went. I don’t know what narrative she told herself, but I think she convinced herself of something that wasn’t real — and then acted on it.

And maybe that’s the worst part of all this:

I still love her.
But I fucking hate her.

I hate her for controlling me. For isolating me. For making my world shrink down to just us.

I hate her for twisting the truth and making me the bad guy so she could ease her guilt.

I hate her for treating me like I was less than human when all I did was try.

I hate her for making me hate her. Because I never did. Not even through all the bullshit. I loved her unconditionally. I always said when she’d ask if I hated her – “No, I could never hate you.” She made me a liar with her.

I hate her because I trusted her with everything — and she did the one thing I thought she was incapable of.

I hate her because she still won’t admit it. And she knows… if the roles were reversed, if I had done what she did — she would’ve crucified me for it.

And I hate her because after everything, I still love her.
Not enough to go back (if that were even an option) — that bridge is burnt.
But enough for it to still fucking hurt.

I’ve not wrote all this to continue to tear her down. I’ve not wrote it for sympathy, I think most of it I’ve probably already said more than once. Sometimes I just start writing and don’t stop. So suddenly everything just starts coming out and that’s how I process everything in my own way. A post will start one way and then go off on a complete tangent, and somehow at the end I have to make it all make some kind of sense. Maybe it doesn’t and it’s just word soup. But it is what it is. Not every post has to have a reason or a point. It just is.

I’m at a good point in the breakup now. I’m not writing all this because I’m feeling sad or upset anymore. I’m really fucking good actually, I’m happy. I’ve been back at work for a week; everyone has been lovely. I’m glad to be back and cracking on. The house is in a good spot so I can’t complain there. I don’t know how everything is going to pan out financially. I guess we will see how that unfolds. But I’m much better money wise these days than I used to be. I guess that’s one thing I can thank her for.

You will notice I’ve made all my other posts live again. I decided I didn’t need them to be hidden after all. They all serve a purpose and are way stones from where I have been to where I am today.