I hope this is a safe place to post. Not posted for a while ... started lots of new posts but never found the words and abandoned them. Still read here daily and am thankful and grateful for the clarity and healing the advice here brings.

I feel I need to get this out but it’s a letter I would send to my AH if I could (not safe to do so)

Hey ..you. Ex. ( darling. Hunny. Love. All the things I used to call you are no longer appropriate.)

I used to have SO much respect for you. The only man I’ve ever respected so much was my dear Dad. How many times did I wish he could have met you? I always thought how proud he’d have been of me to meet a man like you. Someone that cared for and treated his daughter with such love. Now I know different. It was never “love” for you was it?

when we met, I was still in an abusive relationship. You worked with me and gained my trust. I confided in you. One day my husband had locked me in the flat and I rang you in tears. You told me to stay calm and you’d come. You got me out. My dog and my young children and a secretly packed suitcase of things that I’d hidden - the last remaining things my husband didn’t destroy or smash and you drove me to my mums. For weeks after you checked on me, helped me with police reports, social workers solicitors and family courts. My ex tried to commit suicide like he’d always threatened and you stood in the background as my rock never interfering, just holding my hand through it all. You bought me a house to live in. You took me out for dinner and you treated my two young girls like princesses. I fell in love with you how could I not? You spoke Italian and you had lived abroad. You were a qualified airline pilot but you had sacrificed a dream career in order to care full time for your Dad who had dementia. You had such a big heart.
The first sign that you were not all you seemed was one night when my dog was whining. He was a puppy and I had allowed him to sleep in my bed - you had stayed over - it was one if our first nights together as a couple and he didn’t like being shut in the kitchen. I heard you silently get out of bed and tip toe downstairs. I thought you were going to calm him but you didn’t did you? You beat him. I lay in bed listening to him yelp as you showed him who was boss. I was too scared to say anything. I should have left you then and I’m angry that I didn’t. But I was already in too deep.

we married a year after I met you. I was 5 months pregnant with our son and I honestly felt so happy and content. We didn’t sleep together on our wedding night as you passed out drunk. Being pregnant I couldn’t drink alcohol so our already a habit of cosy nights in with a bottle of wine had to change, and I dismissed the niggle that you continued to drink heavily on your own even when I was past my due date. I remember asking you to cut back as we were about 45 mins drive from the hospital incase I went into labour. But you never did. I pushed it aside. I was so happy. when I went into Labour you drove me to maternity and were over the limit. You’d had a bottle of red wine and several glasses of gin. Our son was born with breathing Complications and was in special care for a week. I was so glad to get home with him safely and you were so happy. In fact you resigned from your job so that you could spend every minute with your son and not miss out on his first year. we lived on savings for a while then fell into financial trouble. You drank every day from mid afternoon onwards and brooded over the debts that started to roll in. We decided to sell the beautiful farmhouse we lived in and buy a business together.

seven years in and we had another child. The business didn’t work out, we got into serious debt again. You drank every single day. You neglected the tax returns and forgot to pay bills. Our car was repossessed and we had to sell everything we had to stay afloat. You got depressed and drank more. You blamed your family - your sister and brother took you to court over fiddling your fathers inheritance. The farmhouse we had lived in was signed over to you before I met you - whilst your dad had dementia. They took it to the European court of human rights and won. You were bitter and angry. I believed your side of the story and supported you.

we moved again. This time I set up another small business for us. Your drinking continued and your moods became more and more erratic. You worshiped your children but my daughters were more and more of a source of irritation to you. You took every opportunity to throw it at them what a useless idiot their father was and his grateful they should be for what you did for them. You criticise everything they did. They spent all their time in their bedroom to avoid you. If they ever dared to stand up to you - you’d stand up in your 6ft 2 shoes and square up to them. Back them into a corner. Push them. Mock them. I stood up to you and you’d leave the house in a rage and not come back for hours. Drinking until you we’re passed out and give me the silent treatment.

non return of tax forms, fines, non payment of insurance or tax or fines became the norm. Daily business calls from clients you failed to meet or appointments you forgot became the norm. Never ever was it your fault though. It was always someone else’s fault. You’d be in a foul mood every morning until that first pop of a beer was opened then you’d be the lovely man I thought you were. I’d never comment on your drinking because I was so damn grateful for your happier mood. You’d fall asleep passed out in front of the TV early evening and I’d go to bed alone.

I stopped switching the TV off at some point. At some point ... I don’t remember when but ... I stopped switching off the lights in the lounge. I stopped taking the glass of red wine spilling down your top out of your hand gently and placing a blanket over your snoring body.

your son started to do those things instead. He would come down to see why his Dad hadn’t come to say goodnight and find you passed out. It broke my heart to see him do that.

I went to see a marriage guidance councillor. Do you remember me asking you to come with me? It was after a particularly bad row when you left us for two nights. You refuses to come - you didn’t “do” counselling abc you didn’t like me telling a stranger our business either. The councillor told me you were an alcoholic.

I didn’t believe him. I decided to keep trying for the sake of the children - I had already seen my girls go though a marriage break up I didn’t want to put my children through that again. You knew I wasn’t happy and I told you things had to change. I told you your moods, your temper and your drinking were the reasons I felt insecure. You agreed to work on yourself. You said you loved me and the children were your world.

we booked a holiday. Do you remember much of it? I doubt it. For two weeks you were drunk. You drank vodka at 10am in the morning and sat on a sunbed drinking all day long. You didn’t want to take your son to the water park up the road or teach your daughter to swim. Our youngest struggled with the holiday her autism meant she hated the heat and the loud speaker by the pool so I spent the majority of that holiday in the hotel room with her. Whilst you drank by the pool with your new bunch of drinking buddies - strangers you met there. You complained about your steak loudly in the restaurant one night and everyone was staring at us. I was so embarrassed. You showed me no affection after we had our daughter there was never any romance in our marriage​​​​​. You never told me I looked nice or complimented me.

The last straw was last summer. You’d got particularly drunk after a barbecue in the garden and said you were going to bed early. Our daughter was in the bath in our en-suite. To keep her quiet you plugged an electric extension lead into the sockets and let her put her iPad on the edge of the bath. When I walked in I could have been discovering her body. She was ok but she might not have been. You were so drunk and unconscious you didn’t even remember doing it when I challenged you the next day. You didn’t even say sorry. You just walked away.

you had an operation on your foot not long after. For three whole months you couldn’t drive and were in plaster. You sat on the sofa surrounded by empty booze bottles and ruled the roost from there. One day the kids came in with our pet bunny rabbit. She was dying. She was old and poorly and she had a heart attack on my lap - the kids were devastated. We were all crying and hugging each other but what did you do? You had a temper tantrum because you had no wine left do you remember? You insisted I go out right there and then to get you some. I pleaded with you to give it a miss as I had red raw eyes from crying but you got so nasty and told me I had to. You were in pain and it was the only thing that helped.

I finally broke free from you. It’s a long story but I am so much happier living without your moods dictating how we all feel. But you still don’t get it do you?

I said I’d let you see the kids whenever you want. It was a thing I said to get away. I meant it but now you walk into my house like you are still king of the castle. You haven’t given me any child support in over 4 months and even then it was a pittance. You say you are severely depressed because we left you. It was - you said - your worst nightmare come true. You are suicidal you say. You say you wake up sweating and feeling like you are falling. Your heart pounds and you have nightmares. You say you can’t sleep because you are afraid you won’t wake up again. You had scans on your brain and you have had blood tests. You have been diagnosed with a mental breakdown. You tell me all this when you see me and I pity you. I have stupidly invited you over for Christmas and sacrificed my piece of mind because I felt so bad.

you never ask me if I’m ok. You never offer to pay for anything or give me any financial support. It’s all about you. I’ve just completed at 12 week course with a domestic violence charity and I learnt so much about you.

The night you kicked me violently in your sleep after I told you I was leaving you - I know now that wasn’t an “accident”. The times you ruined and shrunk my new clothes in the wash - I know now that wasn’t an accident. The times you pretended not to hear me and you walked out of the room - all the times you pretended that you forgot important (to me) stuff. Not an accident. you don’t actually speak Italian either do you? No. That was made up. The pilot thing I don’t know - why did you even do that if you never used that qualification? You are not who you sold yourself to be. You are not who I fell in love with. You did not love me you loved having a wife and someone to bear children with and feel like king if the castle with. You called me love you never used my name did you? Your offering of help and lifts and the way you “saved me” in those early days was a quick way to make sure I became dependent on you fast. I know that now. You never liked my family did you? You would rant and rant for hours about them to the point where I stopped inviting them over as I was embarrassed about your not so subtle rudeness. You would wind me up about them too and encourage me to fall out with them - thank god I never did although I came close. When I went away for a rare weekend with a friend you’d drink heavily and cause drama at home and ruin my time. You embarrassed me in front of anyone from checkout girls in the supermarket to clients. I know now that was deliberate attempts to confine me to the house and isolate me from people so that I depended on you more.

I’m stronger than you think I am. When Christmas is out if the way - next year I will be processing with divorce. You won’t like this but I’m ready for your reaction. I will break free from you once and for all. I’ll be getting new locks on the front door too - you’ll have to learn to use the doorbell. You won’t be fooling me into working with you nor will I believe that you intend to pay me any maintenance or be grateful if you ever do. It’s your duty to support your children not a favour to me. We will no longer do “joint” Christmas or birthday presents either. Because you don’t actually contribute do you? I will be doing more courses with women’s aid and empowering myself with the tools to necessarily EVER get into an abusive relationship again. I will teach our children to respect their life partners as equals and that we don’t need alcohol to have fun. I will teach our children that when someone says they love you - make sure they say it sober before they believe them.

I’m so sorry you lost us - but not sorry for you. I’m sorry for me. I’m sorry for our children. I’m sorry I was sucked into your toxic world for so long. Now you can sit back and enjoy the real love of your life in peace. I hope every drop of Rioja was worth it. 🍷 oh and I’m glad my Dad never met you.


Thanks if anyone read it to the end it was just good to vent xx

RainingButtons

That was a beautifully written and courageous letter.
Something about it reached out and touched me and I don’t know how to explain it. You matter and you just made a difference.

Thank you for sharing it with us ❤️

Oh, sweetie...what you’ve been through. You’re so eloquent and it’s all so awful.

My best hopes for your new life free from this nightmare. You deserve all good things.

I have all the admiration in the world for your courage and I send you an enormous hug.