—UPDATE—
Firstly, thank you for the replies. Especially those that offered respectful and considered advice for a stranger in need – it genuinely means a lot, thank you. I would write my original post differently if I was starting again today. However, I am not going to edit it. I wrote what I wrote, and at the time, it was strangely cathartic.
Well, what a difference a day makes!… I managed to get an appointment with my therapist yesterday, and it was a revelatory session.
I have always felt a great deal of shame about my divorce (although I struggle to articulate it), and I have come to realise that any thoughts about the possibility of reconciling were actually about trying to negate that shame. In addition, I always felt a huge sense of duty to my ex-wife… I believe in the whole for better or for worse, in sickness and in health part of marriage that seems to have been sadly forgotten these days. And then you have the catastrophic mind-fuck of being offered the one thing I wanted for so long – to reconcile. Even though that desire has since disappeared; this was all I wanted for so very long, that being offered it momentarily sucked me back into a very dark place. I now see that this was about my depression and anxiety creeping back up on me. I was second guessing myself all over again because the failure of my previous relationship had stripped me of my confidence, my sense of security, my sense of self, and my life as I knew it then.
Once I corralled my irrational and confused thoughts into those three groups – shame (for my divorce), previous and expired sense of duty (for my ex-wife) and complete shock (at being offered the one thing that for so long I hoped and prayed for, but never thought would actually happen), I got to see my situation for what it really is. And just how lucky I am.
I unfairly focused on the fact I was pretty silent on the phone to my ex. But my therapist has helped me understand that I was allowed to be shocked, and allowed to be quiet. I didn’t encourage my ex to reach out, nor did give her any indication that her advances had found a favourable audience. I told her that I had a new life, and didn’t want to continue talking. In hindsight, this was probably enough to set out my intentions, but I was frustrated at myself that I didn’t do more – and I unnecessarily assumed significance in my actions as I spiralled into my own confusion. Thankfully I now see that this doesn’t have to be significant at all.
I don't love my ex-wife. And I can see she that she doesn’t love me. Whilst we have been through a lot together, it is time to leave that trauma in the past and move on. It is now obvious to me that her offer to reconcile wasn't an honourable Hail Mary, but rather an effort to destroy the life that I have built (out of nothing) since she left.
I have been given the gift of a fresh start with the most wonderful woman. My fiancée has been my rock since she came into my life, and has made every day better simply by being in it. I am looking forward to being married, and hopefully repaying some of the love and loyalty she has already generously bestowed upon me. I love her more than I have ever loved anyone. It just goes to show that life can be complicated, our minds can play tricks on us, and the path of true love seldom runs smooth. I will be a better husband because of this episode, as it has shown me (albeit via a rather tortuous and circuitous route) that I am exactly where I am meant to be. Everything I am, everything I have endured, was preparation for this life – the one I have now.
God bless the broken road, and the unanswered prayers.
*** I am going to step away now. Partly because I can return to my regular Reddit account, but also because there is considerable negativity here. The keyboard warriors are so quick to make sweeping assumptions (and barbed comments) that they would never dream of making of to a close friend in a face to face conversation. The kinder respondents (perhaps those with more life experience?) instinctively understand that a single poorly formulated post, written by someone having an awful day, might not contain every detail required to make absolute conclusions about the lives of those involved. There is a world of difference between a supportive and respectful ‘if this is really true, then you need to think about…’ to the hugely assumptive and judgemental ‘you clearly don’t love your fiancée’. That is not to say I didn’t appreciate the replies that were more direct – it is often good to hear the things you need to hear, but perhaps don’t want to – I am simply saying that it is actually very easy to offer advice that is difficult to hear whilst still being kind to someone in distress. Class is clearly in short supply these days ***
—ORIGINAL POST—
Throwaway, for reasons that will be blatantly obvious shortly.
My ex-wife and I were married for 12 years. She was the best thing to ever happen to me, and when she came into my life I had everything I could ever dream of.
We had our ups and downs – I am not going to sugar coat it – but we always felt solid, and I always assumed we would be together forever.
We both wanted a family, but had issues trying to conceive. Our IVF journey was not straightforward. My ex-wife was pregnant three times, and on all three occasions, we lost the baby. The third one was by far the worst – she was far enough along that we had told everyone, started decorating, and really felt like parents. This was a ‘natural’ pregnancy, and felt like our own little miracle. It was the happiest time of my life.
And then we ended up in hospital. We live abroad, and even though we were living in a foreign country, we had quality health insurance and access to world class healthcare. The hospital was amazing – they took such good care of my ex-wife. But irrespective of the care, it was the worst of times. All I really remember is being on the phone to the insurance company, standing outside the hospital, crying uncontrollably, whilst my wife has an emergency operation to save her life. It was truly awful, and must have been a thousand times worst for her.
The aftermath of this is, in reality, what sunk us. My ex-wife slid into depression. Medication was not an easy option as we still wanted to try for a family. Therapy alone didn’t really help. Eventually common sense prevailed, and she started taking medication. The improvement was quick, and with the benefit of the meds she was suddenly back on an even keel.
But I was destroyed. I had given everything I had to look after her. I was the only one working, so the pressure of keeping a roof over our heads, healthcare paid for, and additional funds for future IVF, was mine alone to carry. I couldn’t grieve. I had no one to lean on. When I wanted to lighten the load – by switching health insurance, for example – I received no support. (In this case my wife was too anxious to deal with the forms and the questions and the sensation of being invaded. I get it. But the result felt like I was being sacrificed, and that my needs were irrelevant).
The industry I work in does not make it easy to access mental health support. I was paranoid that I was going to lose my job if I tried to access help. So I buried it all deep down, and just kept going.
By the time my wife was better, I felt completely left behind – drowning in grief and suffering. I was lonely and isolated and, frankly, seriously depressed. The sadness had driven a wedge between us. I suddenly realised that my wife never looked at me the way she used to – like I was the best thing she’d ever seen. Instead all I saw was sadness and resignation, even though (logically speaking) we still had a lot to be grateful for.
Things slowly degraded to the point that I spoke about divorce. She immediately moved out. For a while it felt like a separation, as if we could reset and find a way forward. We would get dinner occasionally. Or watch Netflix. I would even sometimes stay over at her apartment, although we were no longer being intimate. She was clear that she supported me in stepping back from work to focus on getting better. I was lost, but I thought I could see a way for us to move forwards.
And then, one day, almost out of the blue, she filed for divorce. I understood – she couldn’t handle the limbo anymore. And whilst I was getting better (and finally accessing support) the improvements were slower than I hoped for.
I cried. I begged. I asked her to stay just a little bit longer to give me the opportunity to show her I was on a good path. That we could put the train back on the track. But she was steadfast, and insisted that a divorce was what she wanted. That it was the best option for both of us.
I promised to be a gentleman during the divorce. I made it as easy as possible. I did not contest it. I gave her more than half of everything we had. Arguing about money seemed so churlish after all we had been through, and I genuinely wanted her to have the best springboard into the next chapter of her life.
I quit my job to focus on myself. I contracted a little. I eventually started feeling like I might just have a future to look forward to.
And then I met someone new, and I had something to smile about for the first time in a very long time.
My girlfriend is lovely. Truly wonderful. The kindest and most generous person I have ever met. She is patient with me, and knows that the baggage I carry isn’t always light. She doesn’t judge me, but instead supports me to continue my therapy, and grow as a more resilient, and more complete, person. She is ten years younger than me, and would love to try for a family. We don’t have years to waste like we did in our twenties, but it also doesn’t feel rushed. It feels right. I propose. She says yes!!
We have planned to have an engagement party next month, and then have a courthouse marriage the month after (with a family ceremony/blessing later, when we can get everyone together).
Out of nowhere my ex-wife calls. She misses me. She misses us. She wants to give it another go. The bottom has just dropped out of my world. She is my person. The funniest, sharpest, wittiest, most intelligent person I have ever met. But it also feels manipulative – after all, haven't we been here before? I can’t believe I am considering leaving my fiancée, but the very fact that it wasn’t an instant ‘NO’ shows that I clearly am. If I was single, I would have said yes in an instant. But I’m not. I have a life. I have made plans. I have made promises.
I can’t think straight. I don’t know what to do.