Our session

So last night, we went to counselling. It was painful, as I knew it would be. He cried a lot; I cried a little. I really felt his pain, but I also felt it wasn't my responsibility. As I write this, it sounds cold hearted and callous, even to me, but it really isn't. I've carried his pain for such a long time, putting his needs above mine. It's time for him to reach out for what he wants now, without my help.

The counsellor asked us to commit to one thing each; and he committed to let me go to up north on my own, which is a massive sacrifice for him, I know. We had originally booked a holiday cottage together for a few days next week, so I could see my son, and visit friends. Going on my own will give me space to breathe - literally and metaphorically - and I'm very grateful to him for letting me go alone.

So what did I commit to do? I was struggling here, believe me. In the end, I agreed not to make a decision to leave until I came back. I'm not sure that I was being entirely genuine, but I said it, and I'm going to try to keep an open mind for now.