A cautionary tale coupled with anxiety and uncertainty.

I (40F) had endured heartbreak twice from the guy I thought I’d marry by age 20. Something in my young mind connected love and marriage so closely that if he didn’t propose or ask me to move in, he must not be serious about me. After we broke up (for the last time), I wrote him a three page love letter asking him to leave our tiny town together. I professed my undying love for him and my desire to marry for love and continuous improvement in security. He did not reciprocate and I was shattered. I decide to leave college and move 500 miles away, alone. If he didn’t want me, I’d get started securing my future and move on in love (maybe) some day.

I got a job as a server to save money while I enrolled in college, but before I had a chance to begin, I was offered a management position with benefits and overtime. I decided I’d rather take this position than rack up anymore student loans. The restaurant owner’s son and I became involved- bad idea- and he wanted to be with me 24/7. 21 year old me thought this was what I had been looking for. This guy was 8 years my senior, but in the same spot. Ready to settle into a happy, loving, financially secure future with a house and pets, a couple kids.

He pretty much told me everything I wanted to hear and proposed after a year of him crashing at my apartment and us running his family’s restaurant together. It felt purposeful but also off to me. Nothing like what I had always imagined. It just felt like, “well this is the logical next step.” , compared to “I can’t live without you.”

Turns out his parents did not want their son to marry an American and tried very hard to push a $100,000 loan onto us in order to pay for a big wedding and honeymoon.
We instead bought a home together (I helped him pay down his debt first, bring up his credit score, secured financing with 0% down and I paid $6k in closing costs) and then eloped and did the courthouse wedding and garage reception.

We were in wedded bliss in our new house with our new dog. My parents, after several meetings with my husband and I to ensure we all wanted to be neighbors, bought the home next to us. The home beside us was for sale and both my husband and I were thrilled for the additional support.

6 months later, I discovered a drug addiction in my husband. I was broken. I knew I should leave, but his family was so awful to him. They refused to help or acknowledge the problem. He had apparently been fudging the books (blaming employees for theft) on the nights he closed the restaurant and had been using the profit to fund his lifestyle which included an enthusiasm for expensive liquor and gambling. I knew I should leave, but my parents had just retired and sold their lives in order to live next to us. I felt responsible and stayed more for them than for him. I took over 100% of the finances, got him into drug counseling, and fell out of love. I began paying down the mortgage faster by paying extra principal payments bimonthly.
I kept telling myself that I just needed to get through this until there was enough equity in the home to get out if l found an opening.

I’m 40 now and just got through 15 years of investing in real estate while managing the finances of two businesses and our home. I have stayed home to raise two babies (10 and 5). Somewhere along the way, I became a non smoker, and the only one who will lift a finger at home. We’ve not been out together in six years and our sex life has been resting in peace for five. I could list five times I felt betrayed enough to leave, but didn’t. My mom had cancer and died, I felt a responsibility to stay for my (very healthy but alone 80 year old) dad.

After two years of therapy, I am feeling like myself again after so long. My libido is back in full force, I’m losing weight, getting in shape, being creative, playing piano and singing again. have become secure enough to tell my husband I am taking a break from our marriage. If he can’t mirror my work ethic, parenting efforts, and love, then I’m out. He begged me not to do this while simultaneously telling me I’m destroying everything we’ve built. Despite everything, I still only asked for a break and not divorce. “What about our pool? Our beach condo, our house we just paid off!?”. It’s just stuff. I’m on day 3 out of town with the kids and have realized that I’m grieving, but not for loss of my partner. It’s wild.

I head home tomorrow and plan to drop my kids off with my dad prior to meeting my husband in public to have our first chat since I told him. Does anyone have any tips or suggestions for me? The conflict in my heart and head are making me spiral. Thank you.