This is an email that my husband sent to his parents and siblings about a week after everything blew up :
"We're talking about things now. Given my actions, I think we will not get through this. I have learned a lot about myself lately, though, most of it bad.
I just wanted to be clear about the role each of us has played in the things that have happened, in the road that brought us here. Especially the role I played. Over the years I have put more weight on what xxxxx was 'doing' to me than what I was doing to her. I underestimated the impact of my actions, and then couldn't, or wouldn't, empathize with her when she tried to explain it to me. I just dwelled on the effect of her actions on me.
While we have hurt each other over the years, I wasn't clear with you on the role I played. Xxxxx and I would most often have issues over me lying to her, and then her having a reaction that I felt was out of proportion to what I had done. Then i would lie some more to justify the first lie, fight to insist that I had told the truth. Only when presented with incontrovertible turth would I relent and admit the lie. In retrospect, what happened is that I would trigger her PTSD, and she would react very strongly. It's the way PTSD works. 0-60 in no time flat. I lacked empathy for her reactions, even after the fact. I get it now, but that's a recent thing.
Last year, after her heart procedure triggered her PTSD, she decided that she needed to do something about it. She started counseling, got professional help, and set out to make herself better. In the beginning, I supported her, but then, after awhile, I didn't.
After the first while, things began to deteriorate. The PTSD has a strong hold, and she began to exhibit more symptoms. At that point, I failed to provide the support she needed. I failed to find out what I should do, I failed to engage with her. I abandoned her and devalued her and her pain. I told myself that I could see no end, no way forward together.
In truth, I think that since I started counseling, I was thinking about leaving. I thought that 'getting out' would solve my problems, and I convinced myself that xxxxx probably felt the same way. It was yet another example of my selfishness, of putting myself first, and not showing xxxxx the respect and kindness she deserved, not just as my wife and partner, but as a person.
I rewrote the narrative to make myself the victim rather than an actor. To be sure, many of xxxxx's actions hurt me. But my actions hurt her, in ways that I didn't let myself understand. Her actions were, after all, reactions to mine.
In April, I decided it was time to leave. I told myself the story that xxxxx must know it was coming, that we had been effectively-separated since the past September, but, like so many other such stories, it was just a justification for my self-centered behaviour.
I went looking, and found a couple of potential homes. Though I had determined that I needed to leave, I had a potential house lined up, and had created a story for myself to justify the timing, I couldn't make myself do it. So I made another reason. I went online, to a dating site, and I met someone there. We exchanged emails, then met met for lunch. We got along well. The next week is when I told xxxxx that I was leaving. In my mind, I had found a replacement for someone who is irreplaceable.
I created a story for myself that xxxxx felt the same way, that she knew that I wanted to leave, and that it wouldn't really be a surprise. It was more than a surprise, it was a shock. While I had been sitting downstairs, nursing a sense of hurt and entitlement, planning to leave, she had been fighting for her soul, with the belief that I was waiting for her, that I would be with her, and on side, that we would have the future together. She was devastated by my actions. I utterly blind-sided her. Then she found out about the replacement woman, and she was devastated again even worse than at first. The lies I told to justify or defend my actions just made it worse, of course.
Since then we have been talking trying to come to terms with what had happened, what I had done. About whether we could make it work desptie everything. But I kept telling my lies, I kept hurting her. I would tell her that I would do anything to be with her, then turn around and lie to her again. Hurt her again.
Her compassion shines through, even when dealing with me, someone who has hurt her as badly as I have. While we talked, I found the love that I felt for her again, and she started to find hers for me as well. But I kept hurting her. I would tell partial truths, omissions, use vague language, or outright lie.
I had to take a very close look at myself. I found someone who is emotionally-lazy, and puts himself and his comfort above everyone else. Despite knowing, exactly, what xxxxx needed from me, I still didn't do it. She was very clear, and very, very reasonable: stop hurting her. Stop lying, stop telling these stories and lies that paint me the victim or the hero. And I, selfish, childish,didn't do it. Wouldn't. Even when it was all on the line, and I knew it.
While xxxxx and I are very likely done, know that it was entirely my responsibility, my fault. Xxxxx respects you all deeply, and this is important for you to know: this isn't on her. It's on me. Everything that's happened in the past year, that led us to this place, is on me, my selfishness, my disregard for her and her feelings. If we split now, it's not because of anything she did, or failed to do it. It's because of me, my failure.
I love you all very much. Please know that my failure, that my being such an asshole, is not reflection on my family, on any of you. These are my failings. I own them, and I will fix them.
Colin."