The back story

Everyone's story is unique and would require a lifetime to retell. But I guess I need to fill you in on how I got to this point.

I fell in love with H twenty years ago. In a whirlwind, we were engaged after a week or two and married three months later. It was a dream come true. H was 21 and I 30.

Our honeymoon was strained, and the ensuing year nothing less than traumatic. The details can wait for another time, but it has been hard work ever since. There have been good times, of course, but although we get on fine and seem pretty successful at raising a couple of kids, our marriage has been unsatisfying to both of us. H has never been a real partner. Rather than allowing herself to relax into real intimacy, she has built barriers to protect herself from me.

At 40, H has reconsidered the whole situation and informed me that she regrets that we got married. This is not a case of having lost the spark, but rather an admission that from the very beginning she didn't want to be married. She knew before we were married that it was the wrong thing, but too unsure of herself, maybe too ashamed, to call it off. She has tried to cope with the consequences of that, and tried to avoid the hurt that she knows being honest would have caused me.

I have loved and cherished and adored H above all else for almost 20 years, and now find that she doesn't want me. Never did want me.

We have been separated for 6 months and I am heart-broken. Not as tearful as I was a couple of months ago, though that keeps returning in uncontrollable cycles. We still live in the same house, which works well financially and for the kids, but it's no great fun seeing the one you love and constantly being reminded that she is not yours.

— Nat.

Saying goodbye

I have discovered that the real pain of saying goodbye is not the leaving but the sad expectation of returning to nothing.

At times in our marriage I have bemoaned H's lack of excitement when I come home. She normally did not see me off in the morning nor throw herself at me when I returned. But at least she was there and whenever I was away I could look forward to being home again. On business trips, the evenings were always the worst. Being alone. Now home has become merely a house and every departure is a reminder that there is no wife to return to. I return but am still alone.

Juliet was right to say "Parting is such sweet sorrow". For lovers, the sorrow of parting is the seed that promises their re-embrace. Without the parting there can be no joy of returning. The parting creates a delicious glow of anticipation. But for me, goodbyes are now empty of any sweetness.

— Nat.

The beginning, or perhaps the end

I went to the doctor with two symptoms: trouble getting to sleep and a constant high-pitched whine in my ears. So he asked about what's going on in my life and I gave him a brief background to my wife leaving me. Over time you'll get a more complete story from me and understand that it's a bit more complex than that, but the doctor could see from my tears that stress was as good a diagnosis for my symptoms as any.

Have you been there too? I think there are plenty of us -- middle aged men who have given their lives to wives they treasure, only to be abandoned.

The doctor asked if I had any thoughts of suicide. Part of the required script I suppose. But though I am devastated beyond belief, I am not desperate. It does pose a key question though: how can I survive such loss?

— Nat.