2 Years and 2 Months Separated.

The start of this month marked 2 years and 2 months since Peter moved out of our family home.

This separation has been unlike most other divorces or separations where children are involved because we continue to co-parent very closely. I'd be lying also if I said that our relationship hadn't become inappropriately close on occasions, most recently before Christmas, after several months of hoovering from Peter. The last time this happened was the previous Christmas. I'm currently endeavouring to distance from him once again after (surprise, surprise) the mask slipped.

I find it ironic that being in an unhappy relationship (we never married) with Peter whilst being woefully miserable was more acceptable to society than our current set up of living apart but parenting together. There appears to be a societal view that once those final words of divorce or separation are spoken, then it's time to rip off all the sticking plasters, go your separate ways and argue in court over custody of the kids whilst blowing thousands of pounds on lawyers. 

I knew I would never do that. 

However, as many Cassandras know, we often end up having to over-parent to make up for the shortfalls and mindblindness of their fathers. We do it to keep them safe. This is why so many Cassandras stay. Society thinks it's ok to stay unhappily together/married but not ok to separate and remain in each other's lives like we have. I have never been judged so much as I have since separating this way. 

I figured out today that Peter is nicest to me when he feels he needs to make up for something. He's never nice for the sake of just being nice. He's being nice currently because I'm distancing. But I'm tired of the dance. 

Last week, we attended the birthday party of a mutual friend. We travelled together with the children and I drove us. I was reminded of the old black cloud I used to have to continuously endure when we were still together. I mentioned that I was stressed as I was trying to get myself ready for the party whilst also making dinner and he was chauffeuring the children to and from their extracurricular activities. He was immediately insulted. I later discovered that this was because he perceived his responsibilities at that time to be more stressful than mine so I had no right to state that I felt stressed. 

This led to him barely speaking to me and ignoring me to and from the party and whilst we were there, despite neither of us knowing many people. It also caused him to become hugely insulted when I informed him that my friend had offered to care for our children on the day their school had to close as I had to work. He assumed I must have told her that he had refused to care for the children. This of course led to eye rolling, passive aggressive remarks and him refusing to drink his beer any faster when the children became tired and wanted to go home. 

I sat wanting to cry as I watched him overcompensate for his own misery with the strangers in the room, pretending to be fun, warm and friendly. In contrast,I felt small, belittled, on edge, nervous. Intimidated by his sulky, angry presence which only I was enduring so again, I was reminded why I no longer live with Peter.

My home is peaceful now.

Children no longer cry before school. 

Voices are quieter.

We laugh.

We listen. 

We praise. 

We engage.

Bedtimes are smooth and loving.

Meal times are less stressful (although we still have our moments).

We are happier, kinder and warmer. 

 I do still ride the Cassandra roller coaster. I ride it for my children. But one day I will get off completely, because they won't be little forever.

 I don't miss him. I don't miss wondering if he'll share a bed with me, or wondering what I've said to upset him. I don't get woken by thundering footsteps and slamming doors whenever he decides to go to bed, on edge that he might wake the children. I don't miss wondering if he still loves me. 

Peter's ego will always rule and dominate his fragile self esteem. I believe that when a person with unmanaged and untreated ASC is faced with an emotionally neglectful childhood, where praise and reward is born of only achievement, status and wealth, the perfect conditions exist for narcissism to root. He seems to swing between over helping, over compensating, being overly kind, to being passive aggressive, controlling and insidiously critical. He is complex like so many husbands of the Cassandra and this makes him dangerous.

One thing I've learned is to focus on how we feel. If we feel terrible, if we feel low and stifled, the situation probably is as bad as it feels. That's why this time, at the party, I didn't question myself for a moment. It's who he is.

These men create vacuums between us and other people as they present such a kind-hearted, sensitive soul to the rest of the world, whilst we are being mentally and emotionally abused on a daily basis by them. The false reality of the outside world and our own worlds never collide, so we become isolated and alone. We can keep calling our truth to the world, but we're rarely heard. The abuse we endure is insidious and virtually invisible. Those around us assume that we're loved and cherished by these warm and selfless men, they would never imagine the neglect we live with everyday. We may even be known as the difficult one, the complaining one, the one with all the opinions, the controlling one who makes all the decisions perhaps. 

Poor Peter. 

Sometimes separations are messy and hurtful and the financial hardship can be immense. But sometimes, you don't have to go all the way if it's not the right time either. Just having your own space, your own slices of peace can make all the difference. Life will change whether we want it to or not, we are changing and children are growing and eventually, we can leave. 

For Peter, it appears that being in an intimate relationship places an expectation on me to comply with his thoughts, his ideals, his opinions. To protect his ego at all costs and ensure that his ego is an anchor for my own behaviour. It's like being held hostage. 

That isn't a life for me. 

We have to remind ourselves that men like Peter don't love. We are mere objects. Players in their perfect lives. But once we begin to find freedom, we find ourselves. My muscles are more relaxed, my laugh is louder, I move my body more quickly, I feel less stoic somehow, my tone of voice is more varied. 

The key is staying free. 

To avoid the breadcrumbs.

And to rebuild a future which is free of them and full to the brim of love. ♥️

The Reasons your Marriage/Relationship failed.

Luckily for me, I  can now label Peter as my ex, although I still have a lot to do with him because of the children. 

Since separating, when arguments have arisen about financial, domestic or childcare issues, he's taken great joy in reminding me: "well it was YOUR decision to separate!!"

Psychologically abusive men use this line to escape all accountability for the demise of the relationship. They genuinely believe that we are unreasonable for ending our relationships and marriages with them. They pushed us to the brink, over our tolerances, made us feel worthless, devalued and unimportant. Yet we separate from them and divorce them for no reason in their minds. 

They are delusionists. 

In the early days of separating, this comment would really drag me down. It is difficult to hear that we are purely to blame for wrenching our family apart whilst he disregards all the many parts he played to make it fail. He knows it hurts me. So he plays on it. Here is a reminder of why you left him or made him leave:

1) He had a better sexual relationship with himself and with pornography than he ever had with you.

Men like Peter like to have sex with themselves whilst fantasising about airbrushed porn stars and probably women they work with. Having real sex with a real beautiful woman who they share a life with is just too honest and too real. They stick to their sexual fantasy world instead. Even if they never skulk off and have affairs (and I'm told that many do), they're always having emotional affairs, they just can't commit to you.

2) You were emotionally alone for many years. 

I often come across the meme which says that there is nothing lonlier than feeling alone when you have people physically beside you. It's very true. You were blamed for causing him unnecessary problems and challenges for daring to share your feelings with him when they did not comply with his desired easy life. You were punished with silent treatment, belittled and constantly invalidated. The person who was supposed to be the most emotionally safe in your life turned out to be emotionally dangerous. For this reason, your nervous system was tormented and you were probably developing physical ailments s a result. This sort of emotional abuse wreaks havoc on your digestive system, your joints, your skin, hormones, hair, weight. To stay would be detrimental to your health. 

3) He was disloyal.

And in so many ways. 

I remember when Peter found out that I'd been confiding in my friends about how unhappy I was, he told me angrily that I was betraying him. And when he found out I'd anonymously reached out for support and advice on an online support forum, he was livid and lectured me about disloyalty. I see it as him deflecting now. 

There is nothing more disloyal than showing more respect, more understanding, more empathy and more patience to others than he ever showed to me. He may never have complained about me outwardly to others but he behaved as if I was insignificant and beneath him. There is nothing more disloyal than allowing his mother to disrespect me all the years we were together and then blame me when I confronted it. There is nothing more disloyal than allowing his sister to troll me online and post negative comments and tell me that it's normal to be so curious (stalkerish in my opinion!). 

Everyone was doing a better job at everything than I was too. He put down my efforts and compared me to other women who were "managing to work full-time AND raise the children." I was never enough. Yet he admired everyone else. 

Peter went to the lengths of belittling me infront of our friends regularly. He enjoyed making me the butt of his jokes, flagging up my anecdotes as incorrect and putting me down infront of them. I used to wonder why others weren't picking up on his attitude towards me. Maybe they did. But he was so gushingly nice and agreeable towards them, that I think he genuinely made me look incompetent and a bit pathetic to everyone else. They enjoyed being around someone so complimentary of them, just like I did when I met him.

4) There was no room for you in his life.

I said this to Peter towards the end and I could see that it made him evaluate my reasoning. When his life is filled with special interests, hobbies, pornography, a tendency to drop everything to help a sibling or a work colleague, the strong necessity they feel for alone time, a job which depletes them and when also raising young children, they have nothing left to offer you. Peter had no time or energy for dating, for relationshipping or loving me. He used all of his energy to pursue his hobbies and to achieve at work (they care much more for how others perceive them at work than how they are at home) so I was left with only the leftovers, the remnants of his energy. There was no room for me and he didn't see why he ought to make room either. 

5) He didn't like you and you knew it.

I'm not sure they're really capable of loving us either, but they do see us as  possessions. Our men are so helpful and kind in the outside world that they barely get criticised, whilst growing up they sought so much solitude that they were always described as "easy" by their parents. 

We come along with our expectations of intimacy, connection and love, which they always fail to deliver on eventually, and we are villainised. This is the narcissistic side of their personalities. They can not take any form of criticism. They have never had to. The contempt they feel towards us as the relationship draws on over the years intensifies. They couldn't have a loving relationship with us even if they decided to try because we are so vehemently disliked for shining light on their flaws. They also learn to dislike us for being better than them at some things. Peter always hated that I was the better cook and couldn't bring himself to compliment my efforts without me highlighting the fact. 

6) He was demand avoidant. 

I've come to realise that there is another layer to Peter's condition. Not only does he not have the wiring for intimacy and love but even if he did, he wouldn't be able to give me anything I needed. Men like ours have a tendency to always do the opposite of what we need. They decide to go and mow the lawn at the most inconvenient of times, when children are needy and dinner needs making and accuse you of being ungrateful. They'll rebel against the family calendar, opting to do their own thing, even when they can clearly see that there are other commitments. You'll go to relationship counselling and agree to have a conversation once a week about your feelings and he'll come down with a migraine most weeks or suddenly need an early night when your evening comes around. He'll obsess over doing something you really don't want him to do. For Peter, it was loading the washing machine. 

Mindlessly and constantly washing clothes and leaving me with the drying and putting away despite requests for him not to keep doing this. It even got to a point where he was putting the machine on in the early hours of the morning when I'd stop him during the day time. They will always do the opposite. For this reason, an intimate relationship just isn't possible with men like ours because intimate relationships demand effort and connection. I often wonder if they were paired with someone as avoidant as they are, whether they would suddenly become more attached. But, I imagine they're more attracted to empathetic Cassandras and most of us Cassandras aren't avoidants. In supportive, loving relationships, we become securely attached too.  

7) You rarely felt enough.

Peter was a bit of a perfectionist and it was obvious to me that I was a disappointment to him. He seemed to have an idea in his mind about how I should feel and I didn't comply. I often felt like I wasn't allowed to be human. You're not supposed to dislike his overbearing, disrespectful mother; you're not supposed to have fears or anxieties which get in the way of what he wants to do; you're not supposed to have your own commitments when they interfere with his; you weren't supposed to need help with child rearing and maintaining a clean home; you weren't supposed to have dreams that he didn't have or desires he didn't desire; you weren't supposed to get ill or hurt; you weren't supposed to have tough pregnancies and you certainly weren't supposed to disagree. The fact is, that nobody will ever measure up unless they prioritise his wants and needs at all times. You are unfortunately, an inconvenience.

8) He had the emotional intelligence of a toddler.

Peter often made pathetic, passive aggressive comments about how I "probably" thought this of him and probably thought that. "You probably don't even think I did a good job do you..." comments along these lines very regularly. He was very Eeyore-like. You've wounded him by seeing his flaws, a symptom of narcissism. You'd feel guilty for sharing your sadness or upsets with him as he'd take on a victim mentality. He'd gaslight you, invalidate you, put you down, but your reaction would always be the problem. You were his favourite scapegoat.

Suggestions from our relationship counsellor for him to work on certain behaviours would result in mini protests at home where he'd declare "but I like me. I don't want to change me!" You easily feel like you have another child to care for. 

9) He bored the life out of you.

I remember looking forward to Peter and I spending quality time together when the children were very young and then when it materialised, I'd find the conversation monotonous. A counsellor once told me that you realise when your marriage is worth saving when it's in the trenches of raising young children and you still love each others company when you're alone together. I discovered that whilst I loved dressing up, the freedom of being out of the house without the children and eating a meal I didn't have to cook, I wasn't enjoying being with Peter. There was no joy. Just endless informative monologues about people I didn't know and his special interests. He was a gossip. And a bore. 

He learned early on that he wasn't very interesting to others and so he learned to gossip to engage people in conversation, but that's as deep as it gets. Some probably don't even do that!

He also used to ask lots of mundane questions that would feel like an interrogation and usually about the timings of my days and weeks. He was obsessed with times. By the end of our relationship, whenever we were due to spend time together as a couple, my IBS would always kick in. I think my body started to tell me in many physical ways that it didn't enjoy being around Peter. It's important that we listen and pay attention to those signs. 

10) Contempt breeds contempt- you learned to dislike him too. 

You eventually dislike him as much as he dislikes you because whilst love breeds love, contempt breeds contempt. You'll develop the "ick" and perhaps notice his stims and quirks more and more. The odd noises he makes along with the persistent foot tapping, loud yawning, habitual ball scratching, lack of hygiene,the way he neglects his appearance, his clothes. His funny walk. You'll crave intimacy and yet even in the throes of sexual frustration discover that you can't bring yourself to have sex with him which is always the same predictable experience anyway!

These are reminders of why you left or made him leave. He didn't have the tools to be the man he made out he was in the beginning, the man he'd like to be. But not the man he'd like to be for you, not anymore. I think we probably get to know them too well and as they don't really like themselves at the core of it all, they assume we can never love or like them either and so they push us further and further away. We were never supposed to leave though. We were supposed to embrace our maid-like presence in their lives and comply and pretend to the outside world that we are in a loving, fulfilling relationship. They are fraudsters and we are victims of emotional fraud and most of us, victims of emotional abuse. Let's keep moving forward and if we ever look back for a second, let's remember why we left in the first place.

But he's not a covert narcissist... is he?

Yes. I've come to think that yes. He probably is a covert narcissist.

Of course, neurodiverse people have their challenges, their routines and triggers, but most will show willingness to alter their behaviour if it is hurtful to others. Particularly if it's hurtful to those they care about. They don't become resentful, rageful or ill meaning just because their spouse asked them for something. Like a narcissist would. 

Expecting behaviour change and expecting someone to change their personality is not the same thing. We're not asking anyone to change who they are fundamentally, but to behave differently to cause less suffering to others. Neurodiverse people have the power to work on their behaviour and to learn respect and loyalty even if they struggle to empathise. They have choices like everyone else and the power to hurt people less. Should they wish to.

Most women in my online support group for Cassandra Syndrome are in there because they have pleaded, raged, begged and pestered for change, for help, for support for love, for any molecule of acknowledgement and support. To ignore, to deny, to blame, argue and dismiss is mean. Neurodiverse people aren't intrinsically mean... are they? But we know that Covert Narcissists are. 

I'm done with looking for the motivations for mean behaviour, done with excusing it. Done with it. If he speaks like a covert narcissist, acts like a covert narcissist, behaves like a covert narcissist, then it's time that we acknowledged that we are dealing with, marriaging with, parenting with is a dark and stealthy form of narcissist. A sneaky, sly, vindictive narcissist, who to the outside world, is a loveable, likeable fella who'll do anything for anyone. 

Let's stop denying what we already know.

We are all Cassandras of covert narcissists here. And the only way up is out.

The Ways I Felt Exploited By Him

In two months time, it will be two years since we separated. If I look back and think of an adjective to sum up the way he made me feel during the majority of our relationship, I'd choose the word "exploited."

I've already written about the huge impact that internalised mysoginy has on men like ours. They've spent their lives trying to fit in with a patriachal society, they willingly absorb all it stands for and become the epitome of patriachy themselves, feeling accepted as a respectable, upstanding male chauvinist, particularly if they are also white and of middle-class. 

Our men become easily moulded by the old fashioned, mysoginistic views of their own fathers who they place on pedestals. The very men who saw women as mere domestic appliances. Yet, they are swept along easily by a modern, economy-driven society (due to their own practical and materialistic values) which happily forces women back into work and away from their children long before it's time. Who do women think they are to think that they're exempt from contributing financially? There is no value in care work, only work of financial gain. The care work goes purposely unnoticed. She must complete such dismal, unappealing, non-valuable work on the side, quietly and invisibly.

For many of us, we're expected to do everything and to do it without complaint. We ought to work like we don't have children with a home to run and run a home and raise children like we don't work. But also, we must never expect love and affection in return- afterall, it's a wasted commodity to men like ours. It's sad for me to admit it, but I think that some love, affection and appreciation would have softened the continuous, monotonous blow of modern marriage or cohabitation. Without a bit of love glitter to cover the turd, all women like us (Cassandras) are left with is a pointless, useless turd of a relationship and piles and piles of thankless tasks. 

He exploited me in so many ways.

From my first sickly pregnancy and me not being able to work easily, him telling me, "it's the job of your employer to get as much work out of you as she can; of course she's pissed off with you." It told me everything I needed to know about him right then. I realised at that very moment that I'd always remember him telling me that. It was an insight of what was to come and I think my subconscious warned me so.

The fact that I was pregnant in the first place was the result of him "forgetting" to withdraw having previously agreed that we would use this method temporarily. Once I was pregnant, I was supposed to ignore the fact as the side effects of our unplanned, yet reckless pregnancy inconvenienced him and his life. He was however conscious of how he came across to the outside world and persuaded me to move in with him long before I was ready to:

"Let me look after you..."

"You can't be pregnant with my baby and not live with me..."

So I gave my landlord a month's notice and off I went, to live at his house where he made very little room for me and my things for months, despite my pleas. All to save his reputation as everyone's favourite helpful handyman and now family man.

My freedom was exploited after our baby was born, she seemingly belonged to his family and I was the mere vessel for birthing her. I was expected to spend my maternity leave with his mother, which I declined repeatedly through desperation rather than assertiveness. I was a nobody. My wants, needs, my wellbeing my desires were all unworthy of importance, everything that made me who I was, faded away. My sadness fell on deaf ears, it was easier for him to label me as "intolerant" than it was for him to question his own family. I was just the complaining woman he lived with now, but as far as the outside world could see, I was much more.  As soon as it was too late for me to easily leave, he seemed comfortable into trapping me into his world of selfish comfort whilst I suffered. I just needed to stop being so negative he would say. My lovely, helpful, kind Peter was delivering a nightmare.

I lost my income, my career prospects and friends whilst his life continued as normal. He exploited this by demeaning any financial decisions I wanted to make- it wasn't my money afterall. He was the earner. I was exploited by motherhood, because he allowed me to be. My vulnerabilities were always used to benefit him. 

When breastfeeding our second child, he once said "just because you can't go out without the baby, doesn't mean I can't!" This was in defence of his social life when I needed his support at home with a toddler and a baby. He gladly exploited the fact that our baby needed my body in order to survive and he capitalised on his hobbies and free time more than ever. I was his childcare because I had to be, what did it have to do with him? This is despite me and the baby relying on him to do a bottle feed each evening to give me a break during the first three months, but he'd just drop the responsibility mindlessly, he couldn't understand why he should be bound to one feed a day, even when I was bound to so many. 

We talked about marriage during my first pregnancy, he said he wanted to marry after her birth. As it turns out, it's been easier to separate whilst unmarried, but my rights as a mere cohabiting partner in Britain are dreadful. Whilst his pension has blossomed, mine has dwindled due to part-time working whilst the children were little. Had we have been married I'd have been entitled to a chunk of his pension and to more equity of the family home. He knowingly exploited my vulnerabilities yet again when I communicated my concerns for my stability and he found every excuse he could for us not to marry post children. He was however, happy to have a second child with me.

To defend his lack of engagement with mundane domestic work such as cleaning he'd say "it's more important to you than it is to me, so why should I have to do it?" Cleaning was a choice he argued- my choice. He felt the same about cooking. He would argue that he would have been happy to eat cereal for dinner, so why should he have to share the cooking? Although Peter did contribute domestically, he resented it and blamed me for him having to share these tasks and he'd quietly seethe and sulk. He was mentally disengaged, so I needed him to contribute practically, the mental strain of parenthood was all consuming for me and non-existent for him.

I was expected to push down who I was as a person; he made it clear that I was too colourful, too opinionated, too outspoken and he'd correct me in public, humiliate me and gaslight me. I think this form of exploitation hurt the most, the way he exploited the essence of who I was to bolster his own ego.

And then, I was persistently giving. 

Washing, cooking, cleaning, decluttering, form filling, worrying whilst also trying to earn a living. He valued none of it, labelling domestic work optional in his own mind. I know he felt exploited by my expectations for him to contribute to the family life which we had created together.

I wouldn't have minded as much if he'd given some love in return, but it was always withheld when I'd pointed out his shortcomings, or cried or shouted for more support. Shining a light on his misgivings never caused him to look inward, he only hated me more. 

As time went on it became clearer that he had absolutely no desire for a relationship with me at all. I was only there to make his life easier, more comfortable. A live-in housekeeper and nanny. 

Love has always been my love language: talking love, giving love, showing love, receiving love. Practical tasks in my opinion have little to do with love at all despite what the books say. I realised that if I didn't want to drown any further, I needed to begin speaking his language. So when the children were a little older, that's what I did. I used him for DIY and childcare and cooking and other practical tasks whilst mapping out a life away from him. Yoga in the evenings, womens meet-up groups, dancing at weekends, I found friendships again. I started going out more than him.

One day he said to me when I told him that I had yet another commitment and needed him to stay at home with the children: "I feel used."

It's funny how the tables turn. 

He's now living with his parents and the only thing I need from him now are his financial contributions towards the family home which the children and I have remained in. He has no domestic responsibilities anymore, reduced childcare (the children stay with him twice a week), no more living with a nag like me, his household investment taken care of by myself each day. He lives where his loyalties have always lay: with his parents. He now has everything he ever really wanted, yet it causes him discomfort, and although I know he will never realise that he caused it, I find some comfort in the knowledge that he instigated it all. 

"I'm not happy with this situation" he has said to me. And I say "really? when you got everything you really wanted in the end?"

I imagine he'll be painting himself to be the poor homeless victim now, paying for a home that he's not living in. His male friends shaking their heads at the injustices that such a nice guy like Peter has been left with. I can easily imagine them saying amongst themselves, "Poor Peter, exploited by the woman he loved."

Why he's more loyal to his family of origin than he is to you.

For a long time, I couldn't get my head around why he seemed to like his mother, father and sister more than me. He always valued his father's judgement over mine on everything, his mother could seemingly behave however she wanted to and he always deemed her right, his sister was always his favourite innocent victim. 

He'd chosen me and yet appeared to have more emotional loyalty to them. He was emotionally enmeshed with them. When his mother hurt me with her criticisms of my parenting of a newborn that I dedicated my everything to, I was always being "too sensitive" and "intolerant." He could admit that she was interferring, that she was overbearing but excused her as "meaning well."  He was absolutely more comfortable with my discomfort than he was with theirs. 

When we were dating, he once left my bed to go to his 27 year old sister in the middle of the night because she was upset about splitting from a  boyfriend a few weeks beforehand. He had been called to her by his mother who was consoling her at 3am. It was an open display of where his loyalties were expected to lie. It was a very clear message sent to me early on. I was not invited either. It was family matters. A few years later, I found Peter consoling his sister at her 30th birthday party after his mother upset her and they had both disappeared. I found them upstairs, where my presence was clearly unwanted and I was told to return to the party and that they would be down again soon. The details of the upset were never divulged to me. Family matters never were. 

Unknowingly, I blamed myself for far too long. 

I just wasn't cutting it. 

I was a troublemaker.

I really was too sensitive.

I'm pushing him away.

I'm unlovable.

I create drama.

I've disappointed him. 

Thank goodness I disappointed him. This is the main reason he was more loyal to his family of origin. I'd disappointed him for calling out bad behaviour, for being intolerant and noncompliant, for saying no, for not being more accommodating. 

Many of our men have never been challenged or criticised by their parents and so they gravitate back to them when life with us becomes tough. We are not their caregivers, we don't provide them with financial gifts or endeavour to meet their every little whim, where often their parents have done so. They deem their parents safer because they excuse him, demand nothing of him and in many ways, still povide for him. 

He was an older brother to a sister who was several years younger than him. 

He was always admired, always put on a pedestal, perhaps due to her own undiagnosed neurodiversity also. Family bonds don't change, fade or end in enmeshed families, they are all one and cult-like. Peter has always been made to feel very important by his family of origin or was left to his own devices without any expectations of him and so, when I came along with my expectations of him, he felt challenged and victimised. Naturally, he gravitated towards them more so. 

When I expressed my unhappiness to his mother with a young baby in my arms and a toddler at my side, she excused him like he excused her. "He needs his down time." I needed mine too, but my needs were not her priority or anyone's priority, certainly not his. They collaborated with each other albeit rather silently at times. They were all of one mindset, all one entity like nothing I'd seen before. A cult.

When I was encouraged by his sister to confide in her about our failing relationship, she listened only to know things. Behind my back, she was collaborating with him and creating a divide between us, pulling her brother back to her. I imagine her subconscious whispering "I have zero expectations of you, unlike her, she's unreasonable... I'll massage your ego like she never will..." 

Because he belonged to her. 

He belonged to them all. He wanted to belong to them. You can't marry when you're already married. My criticism of his negative behaviour became her ammunition in the end and he excused her anonymous online trolling of my blogs and posts and even her accusations that anonymous posts in a group were mine (they weren't). He even praised her for it, let alone defended her. I'd dared to reach out in a private group asking for help with the dysfunction which she'd been accustomed to and she found it, screenshot everything, shared it with the cult and continued being pleasant with me on the surface. Then she began attacking my personal blog anonymously. He refused to believe it was her, but was happy to believe her untruths about me. I'd spent years getting him to see that his mother's behaviour wasn't ok and we'd made progress, but getting him to see that his innocent little sister's wasn't ok came at the biggest price. 

He feels important and powerful around them and victimised when he's expected to contribute to family life or be in a loving, functional, intimate relationship when he was with me. He'd never really been expected to be a grown-up. He had particularly never been expected to make sacrifices. He'd never had to make any sacrifices at all before. It was a foreign feeling to him. 

" His life has changed enough" his mother once told me. Despite him remaining in his hometown, maintaining the same job for almost 20 years, the same friends... Whilst I'd moved towns, carried two babies and had huge body changes, developed an autoimmune disorder, lost friends, made new friends, moved away from my mother, lost my job, gained another and reduced my income significantly by working part-time and impacted my pension contributions. 

His life had changed because he suddenly had responsibilities and expectations of him which had never been placed on him before. Thats what she really meant. In his mother's eyes was a wounded victim and he often behaved that way. They gave me the feeling that they thought I'd victimised him, that I was spoiling all his fun. I guess Peter was eventually saved from me by his family of origin who he has been living with since our separation almost two years ago. 

It's odd that I always thought that the family he'd created with me, the loyalty to me which was building slowly, would prevail in the end. But it never did. Our men will always gravitate to the place and people where there is less challenge, where truths are unspoken and where there is comfort, familiarity and ease. 

I'm grateful for disappointing him these days because it means that I was loyal to myself. Thank goodness I wasn't loyal to him. It took me a long time to realise also that he disappointed me too and to value this fact.

Peter asked me recently, after he'd had a couple of glasses of wine, "have I disappointed you?" He has never once asked me a question like this before. Peter does not do vulnerability.

"Yes, most definitely." I responded without elaboration.

"I guess I have disappointed you also" was my response.

"Yes" he replied uncomfortably, without elaboration.

But I sat comfortably with this, knowing exactly what this disappointment meant for him, knowing that disappointing him was the only way I was ever going to emotionally survive. Disappointing him means that I am free. It means that I've said "no more." 

Of course, it is his family of origin who have disappointed him really. But he isn't capable of pinning that responsibility on them and I doubt ever will be. Them disabling him with their interferring and lack of expectation of him (which ultimately set me in a negative light) has given him the idea that they are kinder and good to him. 

He really is a victim the more I think about it. A victim of their control, of their enmeshment and manipulation. A prisoner of their beliefs, their mentality, their habits, their values, their family "loyalty", their excuses. It has cost him hugely. His disappointment will forever be directed to me because my morals, beliefs and values are unfamiliar and impact him. I think of all the sacrifices and life changes I made to be with him, the requests for love and affection, the desire for a fulfilling family life-- which ultimately is what has disappointed him. I realise that his disappointment in me is rooted in him feeling pulled away from his family of origin, away from his old life and away from all that is familiar. I offered so much. And it is that which disappoints him. 

And so he gravitates back to his family of origin, relieved. 

When Comparison Steals Your Joy

It's not just our men who steal our joy, but thanks to the kind of lives they force us into, so does our tendency to compare ourselves to other couples and other families.

"Comparison is the thief of joy!" I hear from the wings.

"We're all different, you can't compare!"

"Everyone has their struggles!"

But most Cassandras know that our other couple friends aren't experiencing the same kind of intricate, emotionally abusive troubles that we are. 

I'm currently on holiday with Peter and our children. Still, we are holidaying together to minimise the impact of his recklessness and thoughtlessness on our children. If I didn't holiday with him, he would holiday with the children without me because he deems it his right to, even if he wouldn't enjoy himself.  Everything comes down to rights with Peter. Even after separating, I'm still having to sacrifice parts of myself and my own wellbeing and needs to keep the children safe. Additionally, I believe that it's important to maintain some level of travel and life outside of the daily drudge of day to day living. I want to show the children other places and worlds and I need to experience them too. There are negatives to whatever solution I throw at the situation, so I choose my negatives carefully. 

But, I am starting to wonder if my foolish resilience is beginning to weaken. I don't like Peter as a person anymore. Peter is not my friend. Peter's lack of motivation to do anything at all which didn't benefit him personally wrecked our little family. I put the children to bed in the evenings and I'm left with him, beer in hand, no conscience, no care in the world acting completely normal. Can I keep doing this to myself? 

I am struggling hugely during this break.

Friends of ours are also holidaying nearby, a family we have holidayed here with in the past. They have taken extended family away with them too and are renting a lovely big house overlooking a quiet beach with stunning sea views and a private swimming pool. It was suggested that we meet up by the mother of the children in the family, but I can't face it. 

We are around a mile away from them in a small, pokey cottage that is a little tired, with no views due to having to leave our booking until the very last minute as I never know what the situation will be like with Peter to book in advance. I never know if we can endure another holiday together until the time is almost upon us. I envy them also taking their extended family away with them. They will be able to enjoy evening meals as a couple as they have family to watch the children. Peter and I never got to experience this due to the overwhelming, critical and interferring nature of his parents, particularly his mother. Peter, in retaliation wouldn't entertain bringing my mother away with us either because he deemed it "unfair." Like a toddler might. Our holidays have always been the four of us which has been isolating, something I think Peter enjoys.

What I find so difficult is that I've looked at this cluster of cottages that our friends are renting so many times before, longing to book the smaller one. But it's always gone by the time it gets close enough for me to accept that I can just about withstand holidaying with Peter for another year. 

But I lie here in the small bathtub of the pokey cottage that we're in with paint peeling off the battered tiles, wondering if I could tolerate this better if the destination was a little more luxurious and larger. A bigger space to get away from Peter more. Maybe I should book in advance afterall?

I cry for the life I never had with Peter, the one I see our old friends living now. I am green with envy and heavy with sadness.  Intimate suppers overlooking the harbour whilst their parents lovingly put their children to bed, the matching dry robes and matching kayaks that they own (Peter would never entertain partaking in any activities that I enjoyed), the swims at dusk in their private pool and family days out with extended family, having other adults to soak up the noise of hyperactive, tired children.

I know that no family life is a fairytale but I am tired of "making the best of a bad situation." If I hear this advice one more time, I genuinely might scream. I find myself thinking, why can't I have the best for once? Instead of making the best of the shit I have. I'm lonely here. 

Holidaying without any emotional connection and no love or friendship is tiresome in the throes of parenting young children. Is it time to let go? Time to accept that Peter will always be their father and that the risks are now out of my control? Save myself from the slavery of family holidays? Perhaps one day enjoyable family holidays will be in my reach once again, with a loving person who I deserve to share them with. But I guess I need to let go first...

The Dangers of Relationshipping with an Emotionally Unavailable Man.

Emotionally, our men are very different. I am referring to men who make Cassandras of their wives and intimate partners, regardless of the cause. 

We've all heard of abusive relationships. Emotional and mental abuse is making it's way to the forefront of what we now know about abusive relationships. We talk about it, we no longer make excuses for it. Verbal abuse is as bad as violence. But what about when the emotional turmoil is invisible? When the suffering is caused not by anything they do particularly, but what they don't do? It might be easy to blame our expectations, to gaslight it all away. But this type of (sometimes) unintentional, intimate abuse rocks us to the core. We're uprooted and we're disoriented by inner upheaval caused by the uncertainty of our outer worlds. 

I'm going to compare the way an emotionally healthy man may respond to elements of an intimate relationship, compared to the way many of our men appear to respond, to try and shed a bit of light on the darkness that they douse us in. 

Firstly, one of the elements of healthy intimate relationships which was missing in my relationship with an emotionally unavailable man was eye contact. You know when you're in company and someone makes a joke that totally resonates with the two of you and you look over at your other half and share an intimate glance? Well, that never happens. I realised just how greatly this was missing from my relationship with my ex on watching a video we made together during covid for our child's birthday. I'd written a funny poem about her birth and kept looking at Peter who stood next to me at the odd punch line, but he stood, stoney faced, awkwardly staring towards the camera fixatedly instead. In the video, I look like I'm desperately reaching to him to emotional connection with my eye contact, whilst he looks like he's doing everything he can to avoid it. It's uncomfortable viewing.

I've seen the way my friends husbands look at them when were all together, the way they look back. Miniscule intimate moments which create connections and links. These do not exist in our relationships.

Secondly, when we point out an element of themselves which they don't like? We suffer for pointing it out. They don't have the objectivity to step back and think, "that triggered me, what could I do differently?" Instead, they turn on us for daring to shed light on their shadows. The suffering isn't always direct either. It's often silent sulking, demand avoidance or ruining special occasions. We often don't get to actually learn what it is we've done to upset them, but boy do we know about it when we have. 

Thirdly, if we raise an issue that we're upset by, it will always be our fault for raising the issue. We can never win. The only behaviour they accept from us is tolerance, silence and blind compliance. We were never meant to complain, or have needs. We either suffer in silence or suffer for not being silent. 

Fourthly, they'll be jealous of us. We excel at work or receive a compliment? They'll hate it. Have a birthday? Don't expect to be celebrated. They may pretend to be pleased for us, but they won't be. We are competition. They feel us inching away from them if we become more successful or happier than them, and their disapproval emanates through their negative energy. 

And don't expect anniversaries to be noticed or celebrated. Anniversaries don't exist along with any other special occasions which mark any relationship milestones. They will feel discomfort when it comes to reminiscing about your historical romance, they'll make out you're overly sensitive for wanting to mark your time together and love with any form of celebration. 

Also, It's quite normal to make plans for the future together. But don't expect that from an emotionally unavailable man. They have no intention of committing any future plans or time to you, it may happen, but not through any conscious effort of theirs. They will not contribute to intimate discussions for the future, they will shut down. They wouldn't dream of making themselves vulnerable enough to share any of their future goals or agendas with you. They are one entity. They'll be maddened by these discussions and irritable. They don't appreciate being pinned down. You'll be talking to a wall which repeatedly responds with "ok" and "I don't know." You'll never know where you stand or what they want and that is how it's supposed to be. 

Then, you'll offend them over and over again but you'll never understand why. They are governed by deep inner beliefs, left by the deepest of wounds. If your values don't align with theirs, they'll be insulted and you will be punished, indirectly, subtly, insidiously. Sometimes,they may even push you to the limits of your tolerance levels as your needs wishes and boundaries are repeatedly ignored and broken down by them through silent revenge. 

And then, you'll be treated as an appliance. There to support and facilitate their lives. Their job will always be more important than yours, their time, their career. And you'll lose out on your own time, your own career because you're expected to slot in with childcare whenever a sudden demand is placed on them and they expect you to already know about it or to jump at short notice and set your own professional needs aside. You are their appliance to provide all necessary child and house work. Your uses are practical.

Sadly, they'll never miss you.

They aren't capable of it.

You'll feel out of mind when they're away from you as communication will be sparse. And that is exactly what you will be- far from their mind. They won't tell you they love you or miss you as they can only focus on what is right infront of them. The text messages of love and bonding that you might expect through periods of absence just won't exist in a relationship with an emotionally unavailable man. 

They'll gaslight you.

Emotion just doesn't exist in their world so how could it possibly exist in yours? They'll accuse you of imagining things, of being too sensitive, hysterical, crazy, turbulent. 

He might love his mother more.

Most of us grow out of the FOG if it ever existed throughout childhood and adolescence (fear, obligation and guilt) as we mature and find our own views of the world and begin to honour our own needs. Emotionally unavailable men often don't adapt and reprioritise as they begin families of their own. His mother will always be the woman he needs to please the most. They never feel new love deep enough to cut those binds with her and so she remains his number one, his priority because she is the deepest emotional connection he's ever had. 

Emotionally unavailable men are silent, non-proactive, dismissive and dangerous. It's incredible how doing very little, how omitting love, avoiding connection and belittling your needs can cause so much destruction, but it really does. 

Some men weren't made for love.

If he's not emotionally available, he isn't available for any form of intimate relationship... so if you can, run for the hills. And if you can't, you must detach.