Alright, so this week’s been tough. Really tough. Wanted to share how I actually told my partner I needed to separate. Maybe it helps someone, cause man, I wish I had a playbook.
Getting My Head Straight First
First thing? I had to be dead sure. Spent weeks just sitting alone, late at night after the kids were down, staring at the wall. Asking myself over and over: “Is this really it? Am I just tired, or is this broken?” Felt like I was trying to dig a hole with a plastic spoon. Finally, one Tuesday, it clicked. Yeah. Needed out. No anger, just… done. Like an empty tank.
Finding the Right Time & Place
Couldn’t do it around the kids. Absolutely not. Couldn’t pick a fight either, wanted it calm. Scoured the shared calendar like a detective. Found a Tuesday evening – he usually watches some game then, I knew I could get the kids to my sister’s. Just us. Ordered pizza for them, dropped them off with a fake smile. Drove home feeling like I might puke. Sat at the kitchen table. Waited.
The Words That Came Out (Mostly)
He walked in, went straight for the fridge like always. I just said his name. Calm, low voice. “Hey, can we sit for a minute?” He looked surprised, like a deer caught in headlights. Sat down. Took a breath. Felt my hands shaking under the table.
- Started simple and direct: “I need to talk about something very serious. I’ve been thinking a lot, and my feelings have changed.”
- Used “I” statements hard: “I haven’t been happy for a long time. I feel disconnected.” Didn’t say “You make me feel…” Nope.
- Made the ask clear: “I think we need to separate.” Said it straight out. Didn’t mumble.
- Brief explanation, not blame: “We’ve grown apart. It feels like we’re roommates, not partners. I don’t see how we fix that together now.” Left it at that. No laundry list of failures.
- Acknowledged the hurt: “I know this is incredibly painful. I hate that we’re here.”
What Happened Next (Spoiler: It Was Messy)
Oh man. Silence first. Thick, heavy silence. Then he looked confused, then angry. “What? Why now? What did I do?” Had to keep breathing. Stuck to my script. “It’s not about one thing. It’s how things have been.” He pushed, demanding specifics. Didn’t bite. “This is about how I feel, and what I need.” He started yelling, accusations flying. Just sat there. Let it wash over me. Felt awful, like kicking a puppy, but didn’t back down. Finally, he slammed his hand on the table. Went to the basement. Sat in the kitchen alone for hours, heart pounding. Ugh.
Aftermath and The Actual “After” Part
Next few days were frosty. Ice age frosty. Minimal words. Started looking at apartments online right away – action felt better than just waiting. Told a couple of close friends, needed the support badly. Key things I kept reminding myself: Don’t argue about who’s right or wrong. Keep the kids completely out of it. Be boringly civil. Easier said than done, especially when he’d leave passive-aggressive notes.
A month later? Found a place. Moving next week. It’s brutal. Hurts like hell. Kids are confused, we’re telling them together this weekend with a counselor’s help. But walking through my tiny new living room yesterday? Felt like breathing fresh air after being stuck underground. Still scared. Still sad. But clear. Took every ounce of courage I had, but doing it practically? Kept it from turning into a screaming nightmare. Mostly.
So yeah. That’s the messy, real deal. Not pretty, not easy. But possible.
