Friday, 9 March 2018

The Dreams In Which I'm Dying Are The Best I've Ever Had

This is miserable. My life is just miserable. This is not living, this is existing. I hate it.

The blackness is over powering. What is the point of this life??? I don't want to be with anyone else but I cannot be with him. The tears will not stop. The pain is all consuming. I do not want to feel like this but it will not go away. When does it get better? When does life become worth living again? I cannot describe the pain, I cannot live with it. There is an obvious solution but work prevents me. Is it sad that work is the only thing stopping me??? My dad is ill, so for my mum it would be one less thing to worry about if I was not here. I love my brother, and my nephews and niece mean the world to me, but I am not as involved in their lives as I would love to be due to the relationship I have with my brother. They're young enough, they'll forget me if I disappear. I do not wish to exaggerate but work would fall apart without me. No one else knows how to do my job and without me the future of around 200 young women would be at stake. To say more would give away what I do and therefore potentially who I am when I can be anonymous here. But, humbly, it is not an exaggeration. There will come a time this year when the cycle of my profession is less pressured and others could feasibly pick it up, but not yet. That time will come in July. It is seriously tempting to plan to free myself of this pain then if I still have it at that point. It is unbearable. I cannot describe the pain, I just know that I cannot live with it. Work is the only thing keeping me going and in July I have a window. By then it would have been nine months living with the pain and if it has not eased I will need an escape.

I had the two weekends away with friends that I described in my previous post. There were lovely in their own way, I'm not entirely sure I was the best company for the ladies I visited but they were a tonic. However I came home to emptiness both times. To the crashing realisation that, whilst a weekend away is lovely, it is nothing more than a sticking plaster. It doesn't fix the chasm of emptiness and blackness that envelopes me.

Everything makes me cry. Every song I hear, people I see, memories I have. Makes me remember what I lost, where I am. I miss him desperately. I hate being by myself in my flat, all the memories there, too many ghosts. I bought it a couple of months before we got together so whilst it is mine and I did live there myself for quite a long time it is inextricably linked to him. The flat is still for sale and I am desperate to sell it to be able to move on and have somewhere that is mine, a clean slate. But it seems to be easier said than done in the current market conditions sadly. 

I keep arguing with him in my head. I am certain that he genuinely does think he did everything he could but in reality he made a decision - and despite saying he'd do anything for me he chose to do nothing even though he knew that would result in losing me. How do you think that makes me feel?! It's a terrible feeling and these are the discussions going round and round and round in my head. Despite all this, in just over two weeks' time we go on holiday together. Even with all my anger I can absolutely forgive him as I know it is just how he is made, it's not something he's done on purpose or was malicious about. I cannot forget how he made (and still makes) me feel however so there is no going back. But nevertheless we have ten days abroad at the end of this month. I have told everyone I am going away by myself. They won't understand and I don't have the energy to explain. They keep calling me brave, I feel like a fraud. But I am absolutely categorically not repeating what happened at New Year. I just hope the arguments in my head don't spill out of my mouth. I don't want to hurt him. I still care for him deeply and hurting him is an equally horrible feeling that I don't want to have on top of everything else. Let's hope it's just some time in the sun with a good friend, a good book and a good rest.

Wednesday, 24 January 2018

Black Clouds and Going Backwards

I'm not ready to do this, any of this, but I have to. I'd still like children and I'm 38, I'm now actually nearer to 39 than 38, and so I have to throw myself into it if I'm going to have half a chance of that. I need to find someone, get to know them and somehow then start trying to have children in such a short space of time. I am not over him, I absolutely am not, but I have to force myself. I have to do this or I will start resenting him - I don't want the fact that I stayed with him for so long and tried (then failed) for so long to be the reason I don't have children of my own. So what else can I do?!

I took my rings off the weekend he moved out. He doesn't know this, he still wears his and whenever I have seen him since I have put my rings back on again. I was in no way ready to take them off, but who is going to talk to me/chat me up if I have a wedding ring on?! Not that anyone has yet, but you get the point.

Christmas was bearable. Christmas Day itself I spent volunteering at a local church that was putting on a Christmas lunch for the elderly who would otherwise have been alone. It was great fun and I really enjoyed it. Boxing Day was then our family Christmas Day and, aside from a couple of flash points, was a pretty good day. I was bossed around by the three year old nephew, had cuddles with my six month old niece and attempted to keep up with the boisterous six year old nephew.

New Year's, however, was horrendous. Absolutely horrendous. I had the bright idea of going away with a friend, I thought it would be great to have some girl time and go explore somewhere I'd not been before. Get away from everyone and everything local and take my mind off things. It couldn't have backfired more.

The friend and I got on well enough, we explored a very lovely place but there were awkward silences. There were decisions to be made and some things we couldn't agree on. We didn't fall out or anything please don't get me wrong, but it wasn't the free and easy time I would have had if I'd gone away with him. Where the telepathy is there, where he knows me so well his suggestions of things to do I will pretty much always agree with and vice versa. I hated it. I counted the hours until I could go back home. Once I was home I cried, I'd held it in for so long. Proper, heaving sobs. The same again the next night.

I was doing so well and in one foul swoop I had gone so massively backwards I just didn't want to go on. I knew I didn't want to go back to him, that decision is absolutely final and I am not reversing it under any circumstances, but I was suddenly massively missing the life I had and hating the life I have now. Despite a foray onto the app based dating scene nothing has materialised. I am alone. And I hate it. I miss him desperately but I don't want him back. He opted for the easy life over me, it is that simple. There was one thing that needed fixing and, for whatever reason, he couldn't/wouldn't/didn't want to fix it. Despite knowing what the cost of that was. And so he lost me. I am not going back to someone who professes to love me yet clearly thinks so little of me.

But there is an undeniable bond between us. We still get on so well, still know each other so well. We text regularly, speak on the phone once or twice a week and meet up about once a fortnight ish. We're even talking about going away together over Easter somewhere warm. I'm not sure how healthy that is I admit but I'm damned if I'm repeating the New Year break and how that made me feel. I'd like a holiday, I feel so drained I think I NEED a holiday. Emotional exhaustion from the past few months as well as a stinking cold that hung around for over 8 weeks have really taken it out of me. And so what if I decide to go away with him? I've made it very clear it would be as friends, and I know I'll have a good time. I have no issues going by myself but that can throw up complications I'm not emotionally strong enough at the moment to deal with. But I know going away with him will be relaxed and easy, there won't be awkward decisions to make and it'll all just flow. If that makes sense? It might not happen, we may not find anywhere we want to go or it all might be too expensive. But the idea is out there.

There is no denying however that, at the moment, I am under a very black cloud indeed and it just won't shift. I'd got myself into such a good place before Christmas and it feels like all my hard work has come categorically undone. I'm back to crying more, I'm back to drinking far far far too much. I am at least eating fairly well but I'm not doing any exercise, I don't want to see anyone or go out. Not that I've had any invitations. He's been taken out with friends on numerous occasions. I know it's slightly different, altho he has far fewer friends then me they are (understandably) mainly male and so even tho they have kids they are, to a certain extent, freer and able to go out more often. Pretty much all of my friends aren't local anymore and they have kids, houses to run, jobs. I know it's a cliché but that's how life goes I guess. Whether we like it or not that seems to be how things work. But, a couple of wonderful wonderful ladies aside, no one is even checking in on me by text. Asking how I am. If I wanted to do anything.

Those select few who are in touch I love more than I think I did before, they have truly picked me up when I've been on the ground and I don't think they even know it. These are the people that keep me going when I wonder what the point of it all is. When I wonder if there is any point still being on this earth. My job has also been a saviour. I am very lucky that, despite a very long commute, I do absolutely love what I do so I at least have a reason to get out of bed five days a week. It's the weekends that have killed me. When once the thought of two whole days of doing nothing would be bliss it's turned into a nightmare. The hours just stretch ahead of me with nothing to fill them. There is the TV of course, I have books to read, but I'm not particularly interested in either. I've considered going out somewhere for the day or going out for a long walk but the weather at this time of year (particularly atrocious at the moment for some reason) has put paid to any of those ideas.

So on Monday I decided I couldn't spend another weekend like that. I have booked two weekends away, both to see ladies that I mention above, so I have something to look forward to. So that I know there are at least a couple of weekends when the darkness and loneliness don't just stretch ahead of me like a never ending road. I'm not entirely sure that this is the start of the cloud lifting but it's something. I hate feeling like this and I don't know how to shift it. But that's one step at least I guess.

Monday, 4 December 2017

Reflection - One Month Later

So. It's now been a month, to the day, since he moved out and over two months since we decided to split up. How does the land lie.....

Well, the week before he moved out was horrific. The week after he moved out was horrific. But then after that a new normal developed. We still keep in touch, he still has quite a few things at my place. It's weird but then completely natural at the same time. I'm not sure how that can be but there you go. I'm also not overly surprised at how well he's adjusted to it all. He says he misses me (for the first two weeks after he moved out he slept on his sofa as he couldn't face a double bed alone) and does still wear his wedding ring, but aside from that he's just carrying on as normal. Accepting that after nine years together - that's it.

A part of me is hurt by this reaction, especially as I know that he didn't want us to split up. It was initiated by me and we would have stayed together if it was up to him. But at the same time how is this different to how he dealt with the past year?! A couple of weeks in the summer aside, he showed no fight at all to want to save us. No initiative to fix what was wrong. He just kept going and carried on as if all was normal. Even alluding to us still having a family - despite the fact that he had absolutely zero interest in sex, no matter what I did/said/tried.

Friends and family have, mainly, been lovely. Admittedly I left it to my mum to tell my extended family, and asked her to make it clear I didn't want a massive reaction to the news. I wanted to be left alone for a bit, couldn't stand all the 'oh my god I hope you're ok' texts/calls which (rightly or wrongly) I was sure would follow. Friends, whilst initially stunned, have pretty much left me alone too. Altho not from me asking, they just have. Everyone has their own busy lives to lead. A couple of members of his family have got in touch with me too, quite sweetly. I do hope to stay in touch with them, as much as is appropriate.

My mother is the most difficult one in some respects tho. She has been wonderful and we've had some lovely days out together since I've been living alone. But she is incredibly angry with him and cannot understand why I am not. According to her he has robbed me of my chance to be a mother, taken away my best child bearing years. I can understand her anger. She has said that if he finds someone else in the next couple of years and gets them pregnant she'll kill him. I believe her....... Part of me does hope he finds someone else. I want him to be happy. But I also think that is the only way he will realise what he should have done here, finding that 'real' and 'proper' (or however you want to call it, am I making sense??!) love with someone else.

But I'm not sure he would find someone else, let alone get them pregnant. Prior to this summer we, pretty much, hadn't had sex or done anything remotely sexual for three years. Three years. Just let that length of time sink in. So. Either he doesn't have a sex drive (which I'm pretty sure was it, he was never that interested even when we first started dating but for whatever reason it didn't bother me so much then) or he just doesn't love me the way he thinks he does. My mum reckons it's the latter, the fact he showed absolutely no fight - no desire to fix things or desperation to not lose me, proves to her that he never really loved me the way one should love a wife. I just think that's the way he is - he's lazy, has few life skills and no initiative.

But that doesn't stop me still loving him. I do harbour some anger towards him, of course I do, we had so much to look forward to and it was his actions (or rather inactions!) that have taken that away from me. But at the same time what is the point in directing that anger at him?! It's just the way he's made, he can't change. It's like getting angry at the weather when it's raining. What on earth can you do about it?! Which then takes me to my mother's second issue with the situation - I have no outlet for this anger. And that is true.

I have days when I cannot believe this is where I am. Sometimes it feels as if the last nine years didn't happen and I'm just back in my flat as if I never left. But I have not had a week without tears. Proper, all engulfing sobs. The most I've had without tears so far is five days in a row, no more. I am angry. I can't believe I'm here. I don't want to be single at 38. I wanted to be married to the most wonderful guy, have the house and the kids and the dog. All the clichés. And that's been taken away from me. By someone who couldn't be arsed to do anything about it.

I don't hate him, I don't resent him. He can't help it, it's just the way he is made. And I had to be absolutely completely and utterly sure that he wasn't going to change before I walked away. So I do not regret anything. There is just a part of me that still wants the version of him that doesn't exist. The version that has that missing puzzle piece. And for as long as the part of me that wants that is bigger than the part of me that is happy alone the tears will still come. I'm sure there will be a day when those parts swap size, but not yet. I cling on to how far I've come. Look where I was a year ago (here - blogs are funny like that) so who knows where I'll be this time next year. I promised myself at the end of 2017 that I would end this year happy. That I would not be in the same place as I was then. I think it's safe to say that I'm not! But am I happy? Not really. Most of the time I'm fucking miserable. But I know I will be happy, and that's the important thing.

Wednesday, 1 November 2017


So. The holiday. 'Phenomenal' I think is the word we both decided to call it!! The hotel was just stunning, it was only 9 months old and more of a complex really. There were four different hotels on site, each with its own pool, bar and snack bar; and then the reception/lobby area and main catering facilities were all shared. There was an additional pool, a proper one, down on the beach and three buffet restaurants along with six themed restaurants (American diner, steakhouse, teppanyaki etc etc), a coffee house and an ice cream parlour - ALL of which was included in our all inclusive deal. There was then a sports bar, casino, bowling alley and theatre as well as a main square for entertainment. Can you see now why we described it as phenomenal?! Whilst the weather wasn't as great as I'd hoped it would have been, when it was hot it was HOT! So we both came back with enough of a tan to make it look like we had actually been away.

However. As wonderful as the holiday was, it was a holiday as friends. We decided on Wednesday 27th September, less than three weeks before we were due to go away, that we would split up. We hadn't had sex for over two weeks and when he suggested it that evening in the same manner as if he was asking me what we were going to have for dinner, something inside me finally realised - I'm tired. He's not going to change. I cannot change him. I cannot keep going round in these circles. I told him I was having doubts. He told me that we'd promised ourselves we wouldn't do this again. It was sad, but we'd tried and it hadn't worked. We were done.

I was tired of trying to change him when he simply can't, for whatever reason, be changed. He will never meet my needs sexually. I knew that then. At that moment. The realisation just hit me. When he suggested we have sex that Wednesday evening, so matter-of-factly, as if it was something to tick off a list, I just couldn't go through with it. Despite the fact he knew how much it meant to me, how upset it made me and how much I desperately want us to have a good sex life (which might even lead to children) - he just couldn't do anything about it. He'd had days off work in the week, when I wasn't around, and he spent them watching old films, sleeping and playing games on his phone. He didn't spend them reading the counsellor recommended book, or any other book on the subject, or doing any research about his lack of libido and lack of experience. He'd never even tried to put into practice anything in the book. And I was tired of talking about it. Tired of trying to make him see my point of view. Tired of trying to make him change.

The rose tinted glasses from summer had definitely come off and we were suddenly brought screechingly back to where we were. Where we were a year ago. A year. He was still only a third of the way through said recommended book that had arrived in the first week of August (i.e. six weeks previously). He hadn't seen the counsellor again since the one and only appointment in July. And I was tired. I absolutely could not do it anymore. And I know I've said that before but something definitively shifted. The penny finally dropped that he was not going to change no matter what I did or said. And I couldn't spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if'.

He's found somewhere else to live and is moving out this Saturday (4th Nov), still local which should be lovely. We will remain friends, I know we will. To be honest that is all we've been for a while now. The Wednesday night was horrible. After the discussion we spent the evening in different rooms. We looked at cancelling the holiday but it was too late, I looked at someone else to go with but there was no one that could. The next day he said that he'd changed his mind and actually he'd like to come. When I asked why he said it was because it was unlikely he'd be able to go away anywhere again in the near future. Which is true, and it's true for me too. We honeymooned in Mexico, it somehow seemed fitting that that was also the location of the holiday which was to be the end of our married life together.

We're absolutely not talking about divorce, there's no reason to go down that road really, it's just a different chapter. Once the initial hurt had passed there was no further atmosphere at home, it was lovely. It really was. As if we could stop trying to force the relationship to be something it wasn't, stop trying to force-fit something that just wouldn't go and that pressure just lifted. We were like two mates. Really good mates. We'd laugh and joke, we divided up the furniture and talked about me helping him financially with the new place. It was all incredibly amicable. Like a weight had been lifted and neither of us had to force things or desperately try and fix something that I think, deep down, we both knew couldn't be fixed.

He said he'd thought it was inevitable. That actually, even though my flat was on the market and we'd looked at houses, that he couldn't see us living in one. For whatever reason. That it was just never going to work. And the fact we have both accepted that now and can relax (if that's the right word?!) has been brilliant. We've been out for dinner since we decided to split, we still talk frequently during the working day, we've discussed going on holiday again in the future together and going out for dinner at least once a month to catch up - we still get on so well. On holiday we were perfectly happy being naked around each other, coating each other in cocoa butter at the end of every day (and yet still nothing........) and we still hug and kiss on the lips, hold hands and snuggle on the sofa watching TV. So we're probably in some limbo that's unique to us. More than friends but not quite boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife. I don't expect people to understand that, that's fine, my family are struggling to understand. But we know, we get it and are sure of exactly where we stand with each other and that's all that matters.

It's just sad. So unbelievably, gut wrenchingly, painfully, excruciatingly sad. And it fucking hurts. Like. HELL. I'm mourning the end of my marriage, mourning the future I thought we had that is now no longer there. I am not mourning him tho, I know I will not lose him. It will be strange not seeing him every day, that will take a lot of getting used to, but he will still be in my life. I am sure of that. Our relationship is just a different one now. One of friendship. Good friendship, amazingly spectacularly close friendship - but no more than that.

Family have been told. Friends are in the process of being told as and when it's appropriate. So there you go. The end of an era. I'm single again at 38. Onwards.

Thursday, 21 September 2017

Happy Ever After?

So, following on from my last post (here) we were back living together again. For reasons I won't bore you with (it really is a very long story.....) we're both now living at my flat. A one bedroom flat. That I was convinced would end us, that we wouldn't survive in, that would be harm than good. How wrong I was!!

It felt like we'd hit the reset button, that going back to that flat was the 'CTRL-ALT-DEL' of the relationship. We managed to get out of the old place in one day (which was towards the end of June) so there was no going back, hubby went with the last of the stuff and I did the final clean and posted the keys through the letter box. As I left in my car the emotions overwhelmed me - it felt like I was going home.

I got back to my flat to be surrounded by boxes but the TV was on and the bed was made. We both had showers, we ordered pizza, we opened a bottle of fizz. And we were happy. The next few months were hit and miss but mainly hit. The summer was generally lovely, it really was. I had a lot of holiday to take (my holiday year runs Sept - Aug) and managed to not work a five day week for two months which was brilliant. We had a weekend away in another city and had a wonderful time (and sex!), we had a few nights out in town (and sex!) and we really loved being at my flat again. He even joined me, unannounced, in the shower at one point........... *ahem*

After our reconciliation in June I had talked to him about how I was feeling. I said, as I have said before, that I needed actions not words and that I wanted to see where we were at the end of August before I made any further decisions about us. I thought that was a fair window to see if things improved in the one department where things were still lacking. Everything else is pretty much fixed, it's just the sex. Or distinct lack of.

Hubby finally went to see a counsellor at the end of July, he said the session was very productive and ordered a book to read. We started discussing a holiday, a proper one. We haven't had one this year and we usually go away in April. For obvious reasons we didn't this year. I have always paid for our holidays and we really really do need one. It's been a challenging year for both of us, personally and professionally, and a break to recharge is desperately needed.

At the end of August I sat down with him. Whilst I admitted things were a lot better than they were, they were nowhere near where I wanted them to be. I said I was sick to the back teeth of all the words that were STILL not being backed up by actions. I said I was not going to book a holiday until I saw more actions. I promised him it would be the last time I said that as I have said it far far far too many times.

But here we are, towards the end of September, and I'm having doubts again. We haven't had sex now for almost two weeks, he's working this weekend so that stretch is likely to get longer. The excuses have come back, the actions are not there. He still hasn't finished the book his counsellor recommended he read, it arrived at the beginning of August. He hasn't seen the counsellor again. He still has limited sex drive, although it is better. I just don't know if 'better' is good enough for me. Do I just have a really high sex drive? Do I need to give him more time? Am I being unfair and expecting too much of him?

I have booked a holiday. There was some improvement the first week of September and I panicked as the place I wanted to go was fast booking up. We needed a holiday anyway, I reasoned. So we're off to Mexico in October, which is (ironically enough!) where we went on honeymoon. I cannot wait to go and I'm dreading it in equal measure. We're still not fixed, I don't want to start resenting him. Will we be ok for 11 nights, just the two of us, in close proximity?! It's an adults only hotel so that's one thing to be grateful for.

He has tried, things are better, I do love him (that has never been the issue) but I'm back to being unhappy. He's talked about trying for children again but we are having nowhere near enough sex to make that a reality. He's right for me in so many ways but this one, is that the price you pay? Can you never find that perfect person and there has to be a compromise somewhere? Is this just how it is for everyone and this is my particular compromise? The other thing that keeps playing on my mind is if we do separate he has absolutely NOWHERE to go. I'd be kicking him out on to the street or a friend's sofa and I don't want to do that. Even if I'm unhappy I'd rather that than have him homeless. And yet I have given him so many chances. So. Many. Chances. I don't want to give him any more, it's not fair on me. It's not. Life's too short to be unhappy. Is there someone else out there who is just as right for me and can match my sex drive? Or do I settle for this?

And so the questions begin and just go round and round and round in my head..........

Wednesday, 9 August 2017

One Weekend in June

Well hello there. Welcome back. Yes yes it's been a while, but life has a habit of getting in the way of blogging I'm afraid. And it is one of those things that the longer you leave it, the harder it is to get back into it. Especially when you have so much to say. There is every chance, therefore, that this will turn into a two-parter. Rather that I think than bore you all with one massive essay in one go!

So, where were we?! I moved back into my flat one midweek night at the very end of May. And I genuinely thought I'd stay there for a while. It was lovely to be back there, I liked being by myself. It reminded me that, should anything happen between me and hubby, I would be absolutely fine by myself. I had very little contact with him and I felt free.

But then two events changed things slightly. Firstly, that weekend after I'd moved out was our wedding anniversary. And no matter my anger towards hubby it was something I wanted to celebrate. I'd left that night as I'd got so frustrated by him, his apparent lack of care and urgency for our situation. Turns out he just didn't know what else to do rather than he couldn't be bothered. I still left as I had got myself so wound up I needed some space. But I was fairly sure that I would only stay a few nights and that I would go back. Especially as it was our wedding anniversary and I had made it painfully clear how I felt, and he had understood.

The second event was more serious. On the Saturday evening I'd just got back to my flat and I got a text from hubby to say that he was fine but would be home late. To which I thought 'so?!', it wasn't as if he was coming back to the place I was staying so I just ignored it. Then, a little bit later, he phoned and I missed the call as I was in a different room to my phone. He called again straight away and this time I answered it, he wanted to know where I was. Wanted to make sure I hadn't spontaneously decided to come into central London as I am wont to do. Something in his voice made me not like the conversation, the noise in the background didn't sound right either. I told him I was fine, that I was at the flat, I hadn't gone anywhere. He said things were kicking off, he had to go and that I should check the news soon.

Hubby is a Metropolitan Police officer. His borough is Southwark. London Bridge is in the London Borough of Southwark. I managed to stream a news channel on my phone and watched in horror knowing hubby was there and dealing with the aftermath. I couldn't sleep. It was about 2am when I eventually dozed off but I kept waking up and checking my phone. He texted at 4am to say he'd got home. I slept soundly after that and woke up mid-morning.

The Sunday was our wedding anniversary. He came over to the flat. We had champagne, we had a bath together. We had sex. We talked. We went home together.

Monday, 5 June 2017

Running Out of Patience

So, as I confessed in my last blog entry - said post (here) was actually written a good few weeks ago. Such is the nature of my job I don't really have time to stand still (let along write a blog :D ) in May or June.

About a week after I started writing it I broke down, I told him that I didn't care that he didn't see the point or didn't want to - I needed him to see a counsellor. I needed him to do it for me. I was fully expecting a big debate and lots of disagreement but, to my surprise, he just looked at me and said yes, ok. So he started researching counsellors, he's seen one and it didn't work out so has found another he likes the look of. Fingers crossed that one is ok as I know how important it is to find the right person to talk to. Especially about something as delicate as this.

It's like he needs reprogramming. Whenever I mention snogging and fumbling he's not keen, any vague sexual innuendo and he assumes I mean intercourse. He still thinks of sex as purely intercourse resulting in orgasm rather than the smorgasbord of fun it can be. I. Just. Want. To. Get. Laid.

And it appears like he doesn't care. He's in no rush to make an appointment with the new counsellor he's found and he's doing nothing else about it. Nothing. No internet research, not going to the doctor not looking for books or blogs to read. Nothing. There is no urgency to fix this. He is causing me so much pain and he doesn't seem to care. He's just going about his life, as if all is normal, and I just get the feeling he wouldn't care if we never had sex again. Yet he still talks of our future with children in it. That's not just mean, that's cruel. Our entire lives are on hold whilst he tries to sort this out and I can't take it anymore.

Last night* my patience absolutely wore off. I yelled. I cried. I said if this was the other way round I would move heaven and earth to fix things, that the feeling I get when I know he is hurting and it's my fault is the worst feeling in the world. He cried. Said he knew how upset and hurt I was, knew it was all on him but what else could he do??!?! It would seem that his issue is a lack of life skills rather than a lack of compassion. It's like he can't take the pressure of it all and doesn't know what to do rather than he can't be bothered - but nevertheless that is how it looks to me, how it appears to me as I don't know otherwise! I am very very close to resenting him and blaming him for the fact we don't have children - if I do get to that point then there is absolutely no going back from it, and I told him so last night*. This is the only thing stopping us now and I'm 38 for fucks sake, it's not as if I have years of child bearing ahead of me is it?!?!? Where is his urgency to fix this??!

I packed a bag and I walked out. I'm staying on a blow up mattress in my empty flat. I need some space. I'll stay as long as I need to.

*again, not actually last night...... Sorry, this was one night last week. Work getting in the way of blogging again!