6 weeks ago she told me we were over and that one of us had to move out. For a few reasons (her family house, her work from home breadwinner income, & guilt), I decided it had to be me.

Ever since everyone I tell rushes to give advice, but that makes me feel small and more alone; maybe that makes them feel big.
Their advice, well meaning as it usually is, isn't what I need.

I need to feel good again, I need to feel like a guy whose life isn't falling apart, I mean, my life is a disaster.
I know that.
I could use help fixing it, but I can see how to do it. It's not too mysterious.

I used to say that I never thought I'd be someone in a long-term committed relationship.
(We never married--which hurt her more than I realized--because we butchered the proposal.)
Now I can't believe I'm going through a 'divorce.'

She said, we had to separate, that we weren't happy. She's not wrong, but I'm an optimist: I believed things could get better.
And, I've been single as an adult, she has but been, I know it sucks.

Now, I'm going to be alone for the first time in 16 years when I move into an apartment (waiting a few months to divide the equity in our house) this week.

I'm 52, I have a lot of education, but have been writing & house remodeling & supporting her career-quest, and being a slug.

We've moved a bit and I've lost touch with friends and haven't made new ones.

I'm afraid that I'll never get back on my feet, afraid of dying alone, afraid of never sharing and making new memories with someone. Not sure that I want to.

Suddenly, I'm no longer a man with a PhD finishing the last major remodel project on his house, planning a tropical vacation for the winter, shopping a couple of books to published & writing others, while teaching a couple of college classes.

Suddenly, I'm a middle-aged man, down on his luck who everyone feels needs whatever advice that they can think up no matter how inane.

I'll be okay (probably), if for no other reason than that I'm too arrogant and egotistical to let this keep me down.

But, boy does this hurt.

Our relationship was perfect until we bought and moved into our first house.
We went from sex 1-6 times a day, every day, to once a week, then once a month, this year it was twice in 8 months.

I was a shy boy and young man, didn't date much, had some relationships, one serious. A child of divorce, I've always been an emotionally guarded person.

Except with her.

When we moved into together, I became that way with her.

She's a very sexual, touch centered person.

Along the way we've gained weight, drank heavily--I stopped a few years ago, her 2 months ago--lost weight, put since back on, etc
For years she smoked & her breath was a turn off.
Then she was a drunk & a turn off.

Basically, we made a mess of what we had.

It started with me, but she shares the blame.

We could've fixed this 5 years ago, maybe.
We should've fixed it 10-13 years ago.
We didn't.
So we've lost it.

We (me & you reading this) who've gone through this, have to overcome the reflex to protect ourselves, or we'll die alone and unloved. Even if we're in a relationship.

I had a very minor stroke a few years ago (I can't smoke cigars, but I had no other impacts), the guy in the room next to me had had a major one, he was 60s, on his third wife who he treated like crap.
Everyday, I listened to his interpersonal dysfunctions and instead of taking a lesson away from the closed off emotional world he so clearly existed in, I instead, focused on NOT never having a major stroke and doing more with my life than working some crappy job were I'd one day have a stroke.

I missed a part of the lesson he was teaching. I missed the need to change my relationship so that it didn't resemble his.

Our divorces & separations have somethings to teach us.
As awful an experience as they are, we'd be fools not to wring every piece of profit we can get from them, to in some way mitigate the emotional toll they take on us in anyway we can.

That guy's mind had been altered by his stroke, but his wife's emotional distance with him did but bode well for their relationship.

My partner's distance from me should've warned me, but I'd been too blind for too long but to see.

Don't be like I was, be like I want to be.