I Thought I Was Protecting the Kids From You, But In Doing So I Lost My Strength

When you’re seven months pregnant with your second child and your husband (now ex-husband) tells you he’s having an affair, your life doesn’t just wobble it shatters. My daughter had just turned two, and my son arrived the next month. By the time he was 2½ months old, their dad had moved out and straight into life with his mistress.

He eventually came back, and for a short time I let myself believe maybe we could fix things. Later I found out he returned when the mistress went to rehab and probably to feel like a good human telling himself he tried.

We did therapy. I wanted to believe we could create something functional for the kids. But the lies continued, the drinking continued, and the disrespect was constant. I was breastfeeding, working full-time, raising a toddler and drowning in chaos he created.

At some point, I finally snapped awake. I found a new place within a week. I set it up so the kids had a peaceful and warm space. I painted canvas art with my daughter so she knew that even in the mess, we were still building something new.

And to make the transition easier, I invited him over for Tuesday dinners. My friends told me I was nuts. Looking back, that level of grace was undeserved. But my only mission was to protect the kids from feeling the impact of divorced parents.

Fast forward to now.

You’ve made it your job to tear me down, twist the truth, and drag the kids into adult problems they never asked for. You lied then, and you lie now. And the biggest regret I have is ever thinking things would change.

What’s worse now is that your behavior hurts the kids. That’s the part I will never stay quiet about again.

My daughter is struggling because she thinks her parents hate each other.

Let me be clear: I do not hate you. Not even after everything.

I feel sorry for you.

Hating me is easier than facing the truth about yourself.

I hope the kids see you clearly not through my lens, not through yours, but through reality. You are not a bad dad. But you are a terrible co-parent. And you treat people, your family, our kids, me with a level of detachment that says more about you than any story you spin.

You barely speak to your own family, most of whom I still have great relationships with. That alone says enough.

I don’t like tossing around words like “narcissist.” People use it too casually. But I’ll never forget when you told me your therapist thought you might be one.

For years, I thought I was protecting you, protecting your image, protecting the relationship you had with the kids, protecting the idea of “family.”

But in doing so, I gave up pieces of my strength. And I’m done doing that.

From here on out, I protect my kids and myself. The truth isn’t cruel. The truth is clarity. And clarity is the one thing I refuse to lose again.