Blog

The Day My Life Shattered, and I Finally Broke Free

​

There are days that change everything, moments etched into your soul that redefine your existence. For me, that day was August 6th, 2023. There was nothing special about it on the surface. Just another morning, or so I thought. I had no idea that within an hour of waking up, I would walk out of my marital home and never return.

My 23-year-old daughter was the one who woke me. “My dad has been up all night,” she said, her voice laced with the weariness that had become our constant companion. “He’s still playing music, he’s been drinking all night, and he’s in a right state.” Half asleep, I absorbed her words. Long shifts, constant exhaustion, being kept awake most nights by his incessant, excessive music, the lights on, while his family tried desperately to sleep. This was our normal. This was my life.

He had moved out of our bedroom months before, into a spare room. Just bought himself a new mattress one day, no explanation, just...moved out. We weren't living as a couple, hadn't been for what felt like an eternity. But still, this was my home. Our home.

This behavior, the drinking, the staying up all night, the disregard for anyone else’s peace – it was his normal. This was the steady drip, drip, drip of narcissistic abuse that had been my reality for years. He’d spoken to me intermittently, if at all, for what felt like a lifetime. And when he did, it was to hurl an insult or scream in my face, "Get the f*** out of my house!"

I walked into the living room, and there he was, sitting on the sofa. Three empty bottles of wine, whiskey, and Goodness knows how many empty cans on the floor. He was using headphones, oddly considerate for once, trying to block out the world he was simultaneously destroying.

He was in such a state. Even though he was drinking, even though he was verbally abusive, I was still concerned. Concerned for him, for us, for the shell of a life we inhabited. My daughter left for work, and I was left with the wreckage of our morning. I made a decision, a desperate plea for intervention: I would call his mum and dad. His parents. The ones I had been telling for years about his drinking, about the abuse. The ones who had always brushed it under the carpet or simply hadn't believed me. I had been crying out for help for years, and it had fallen on deaf ears.

His parents arrived immediately. My Narc was furious. I stood at the living room door, listening as he spewed venom to his mother. "He wants me out of the house, he hates me, he hasn't wanted to be with me for years. He's wanted to get rid of me for years." He was speaking to his mum, but his eyes were looking at me, a direct hit to the heart of what little was left.

They even called the paramedics, out of concern for his state. But after assessing him, they made a decision that felt, in that moment, like a final dismissal of my entire suffering: they said he should just sleep it off. That was it. No intervention, no real help. Just sleep it off.

I took his dad outside. And with a calm I didn't know I possessed, I told him. “I’m leaving.” I laid bare everything. How he had treated us for years. How he tried to throw me out. How he screamed in my face. The names he called me, like “cling on.” The insidious lies, how he’d claimed I didn’t pay my way (he did no work). How he accused me of taking all his money. It all poured out.

Then, I packed. Whatever I could fit into my car. And I left. I drove away, to live with my dad. I was 51 years old. Homeless. And my life, after years of this soul-crushing abuse, was in bits. Broken. Shattered. But finally, free.

That day, August 6th, 2023, was two years ago. I haven't seen him, nor heard from him, since. And on July 10th, 2025, the final, official chapter closed. I was divorced. The legal tie, the last thread connecting me to that nightmare, was severed. The silence since that day has been deafening, in the most healing way possible. The broken pieces are slowly, painfully, starting to mend.

And now, two years on from that chaotic day, something truly incredible has happened. I've trained as a coach. I now have my own home, a place of peace and safety that is truly mine. And most wonderfully, I have an extremely loving partner.

Thank you, my handsome Scot. I am forever grateful for the love and patience that you have given to me. You have shown me, in every tender moment, exactly how a true, loving partner should be. X