When the rug got pulled out from under me - by Anonymous

I was asked by a friend to write something about my life, I didn’t really know why they were interested. I’ve been through a divorce, with kids involved, I struggled with it, I got through it, why does anyone want to know about my struggles? But my friend was insistent. What I’ve written is a personal account of what I felt at the time, if you ask the others involved you’d likely get a different perspective, but this is my story as I lived it and the struggle I had.

I was married to a wife I loved, we had two young boys whom we loved.

I was married to a wife I loved, we had two young boys whom we loved. I had secure a job, it paid okay, I sort of enjoyed it, as a result we just about had enough money to live on, a mortgage but no other debts. I was doing okay, I was providing for my family. My wife and I would argue, we weren’t as close, nor physical as we’d been before the kids were born, there were problems and tensions between us, but I guessed that’s what happens in marriages, it would get better, I was doing okay. From the outside it probably looked good, if you’d have asked me I’d have said it was good.

the veneer of ‘truth’ was stripped away

Then the rug got pulled out from under me and the veneer of ‘truth’ was stripped away. My wife wanted to separate, wanted a divorce. All the emotions and practicalities overwhelmed me, I’d failed, I was no good, I hadn’t done okay. I felt numb. And that was just the first night.

Over the next weeks the numbness was penetrated by the practicalities and pain; I was going to have to leave the house that I was paying for, where would I live? I would have to leave behind the boys I was raising, I had to admit I’d failed, the world would see I had been living a lie, I couldn’t sort this out.And then the real hurt kicked in. My wife admitted to seeing another man, he was providing what she needed (although I was still paying the mortgage and putting the kids to bed most nights), that made me feel I really wasn’t any good, I was useless, I’d been cast aside.

My life was now a complete train wreck, and I HURT

Suicide now there’s an option, that would stop the hurt, the pain, the shame, it was a way out. But no, words from a young boy, “Daddy I don’t like it when you cry, I love you”, that young boy, who had no idea what was going on in my head at that moment in time, he silenced that call to the “way out”. But the hurt and pain and hopelessness were still there. And to top it off we were now in debt, my wife admitted to over spending on ‘things’. My life was now a complete train wreck, and I HURT.

At some point I was asked by a bloke I knew, but not well, if I’d like to go to the pub, told him I couldn’t afford it, I didn’t have any money. No problem I’m buying he said. It didn’t feel right, I didn’t want to owe anyone anything else, but he insisted, I went. We talked, not relationships or divorce or infidelity, the talk didn’t judge me or point out my weaknesses or what I should be doing, we talked rubbish, we talked about stupid stuff, bloke stuff, favourite film stuff, we laughed, yes I laughed and I felt normal for 90 minutes, the serious talk would come later, I felt like a human being. Stuart I will always love you for that, it was a step back from the edge.

Christmas was crap, I hadn’t moved out, why should I, it wasn’t my idea to separate, I wasn’t the one who wanted a different life, why should I give it up so she could fulfil a dream? She moved out and in with her new man.

Stuart continued to be an oasis of normality, talking rubbish and having a beer, I was still numb, hurt and without hope.

I was still numb, hurt and without hope.

I remember going food shopping with my sons in tow, being practical, putting a brave face on it and getting on with life. One of the boys accidently lost a toy behind some shelving, we couldn’t get to it, I couldn’t get his toy back, it was a tiny thing, but it was such a massive thing, the hurt and upset in his face, that fact I couldn’t make it better, I was still failing, I wanted to walkout, scream shout, cry, I hurt! The boys cried, they hurt, I was failing.

Somehow I got through the checkout paid for the food and drove to Stuart’s house, banged on the door, I was desperate. I let out all the hurt, all the pain, he listened, he put his arm around me and held me, shit this isn’t what blokes do, but it should be, having someone there to talk to, to open up too. And that wasn’t the only time. I wish I hadn’t of left it until I was so raw, so hurt before I cried out for help but I thank God there was someone there to cry out to when I did.

I found my faith

Seemingly all at the same time I found my faith in Christ and other people got involved in supporting me, I started to feel hope. With their insight and the peace that my new faith bought, I came to realise I couldn’t fix it, I couldn’t get ‘that’ life back and that gave me hope. I needed to head somewhere else so that’s what I tentatively started to fight for. I got knocked back, I was still hurting, still raw, I couldn’t do it on my own, I still needed support.

Time went on, wife moved back in, I hoped briefly it was to see if the relationship might work again… but no, perhaps a solicitor had pointed out she had very little ‘rights’ if no longer in the family home, it was another kick in the guts. So the custody battle commenced, who got the house, the kids. I got more pain and hurt, with a large side of hate and anger that grew and grew. But I vowed to myself never in front of the boys, never would I try to turn them against their mum, they still needed her. The injustice started, the cards seemed to be stacked against me, I wasn’t going to be allowed to look after my own kids!

It took 18 months and eventually I moved out of the ‘family home‘ into a house which I never thought I’d be able to afford, I had to leave the boys behind, but only for 10 days out of 14. And all the time I had blokes I could talk too, without them I wouldn’t have made it.

And all the time I had blokes I could talk too, without them I wouldn’t have made it. 

And maybe that’s what my friend wanted me to see, that I did get through it. It took time, it took effort, it took support, it took talking and friends and tears and a hug or two, it took me outside of my comfort zone, outside of what men normally do with their emotions. I didn’t grow a pair, I broke down, I had to ask for help. But in doing so I got hope back, I got a life back. By talking to one bloke I was able to lay the tracks for a new life, one in which I’m happy, content. I have a new partner who makes me happy and I know she feels the same way about me - well at least some of the time. I have two sons I see regularly and who bless me with what they are now achieving, I’m proud of them.

Anonymous 

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