We were mostly happy and I expected us to be together for life. For well over half the relationship, I was the sole breadwinner and, at my ex’s request, managed our finances. We were reasonably well off, with savings and without a mortgage.
We even had a holiday home, albeit a static caravan. I retired early, and the problems we had in our relationship grew. We had both loved travel, but I was repeatedly told we couldn’t afford it, which I knew was nonsense.
I went back to work in a demanding new field, but my ex showed no interest. I spent more time away from home and began therapy (my suggestion of couples’ therapy was rejected). After a year of therapy, I said I was leaving.
My ex said we couldn’t afford to split up. So, I gave them the house and more than half the savings, and moved to the caravan. In the last six years I have bought a new house, have a wonderful new partner and have travelled.
I am successful in my work and doing things I dreamed about for years. But I can’t let go of my resentment of my ex. The many material things I brought to the relationship and left behind.
The fact that my ex is living in a house worth twice my own. That I turned myself inside out to provide for someone but never got any credit. I look for a book that I paid for, and realise my ex took it, and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
