It was the classic fairytale love story.
We were high school sweethearts, married young, bought a house, got pregnant on our first try and had been raising our little one together. From the outside, our life was seemingly perfect. And that perfection brought me comfort, but it didn't bring me happiness.
We were working different schedules, with very little quality time spent together. The only opportunity we had was in the evenings, but he would come home and opt to play video games or watch movies by himself instead of spending time with me. He also had virtually no sex drive, and we were struggling to connect.
Watch: People admit when they knew it was time for a divorce. Post continues after video.
My husband forgot how to show me that he loved me. I would ask for more, but I didn't want to have to ask. It felt like he didn't love me, and over time, I fell out of love with him as a result. Once I'd fallen out of love, I started to have more clarity, I was noticing behaviours in him that I had been ignoring and excusing for years. Like the way he would put me down in front of my friends and colleagues, the way he would compliment every woman in the room except me, the way he would say inappropriate things in social settings, I was noticing it now and all of a sudden realising that it was actually making people uncomfortable. It was making me uncomfortable.
With a new sense of clarity, not shrouded by love, I was also noticing his drinking habit. He was hiding his alcohol and drinking it in secret, to excess. If I confronted him, he would lie about it. For example an entirely new empty bottle of vodka, he had "no idea where the contents of it went", he couldn't explain it, he "only had one shot"… The more he would maintain these white lies, the less overall trust I had for him.
We, like many others over the past two years, were experiencing financial hardship; the increase in the cost of living plus my part-time wages (I was still the primary carer for our toddler). Finances were tight and we struggled to afford necessities like bills and groceries most weeks. He always had access to my bank accounts but I never had access to his. Stupidly, that's just the way we set it up. This meant that he could hide money easily, and in the lead-up to our separation, I noticed he was spending large amounts of money on himself, while our bills remained unpaid.
I came home early from work one day after realising I didn't want to live in a loveless partnership and I told him it was over. It was midday on his day off and he was still in bed. When I told him, he rolled over and went back to sleep. I left the house and didn't hear from him for hours. His lack of reaction solidified my decision.
There were two months of sadness, shame, grief, guilt, and a whole lot of confusion. But once the dust settled, I didn't expect what happened next…
Confidence.
The first thing I noticed was that my confidence drastically peaked. I am the most confident I have ever been in my life, I walk differently, I talk differently. I smile more because I'm exercising a charm I had been suppressing as a married woman. I've got my "rizz" back.
The second thing I didn't expect was how easy it was to leave a partner who didn't love me, knowing I would 100 per cent find someone who does. Logistically, as far as paperwork goes, separating is in fact very messy. Untangling our names, untying our binds, it's a very sticky, complicated mess. But leaving? Leaving was easy.
The last thing is that the world suddenly feels bigger. I'm socialising more, I'm laughing more, I'm having new, exciting experiences. Co-parenting gives me the freedom to explore elements of the human experience that I'd forgotten I'd enjoyed so much. I feel younger and more vibrant. And it's making me a better mother to my child, a better sister, a better friend, a better lover. I've grown more as a person in the past six months while I've been separated than I have over the past six years.
Listen to The Split where host Mandy Nolan shares her story and talks to women about how they started their new life post-divorce. Post continues after podcast.
My ex and I got together when we were 15 years old and we're turning 31 this year. We have spent half our lives together. I wouldn't take one thing back because, without these 15 years, I wouldn't have our beautiful little boy who is the centre of my universe. But my experience has shown me the kind of parent I want to be. When the time comes, I'll be encouraging my child to go out and live his life. Travel, love, explore. I wouldn't want his goal to be to settle down young and make the same mistakes I did, ticking off the checklist of a traditionally successful life.
The author of this post is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.
Read more of our stories about divorce & separation:
Feature image: Getty.
