My marriage has fallen apart
I’m 60, and my husband is 66. We’re about to get divorced. After 35 years of what I thought was a strong marriage, my world has been turned upside down. Me, Margaret, and my husband, William, seemed to have found harmony living in a small town in the Yorkshire Dales. But everything changed in an instant, and now I’m standing on the edge of loneliness, heartbroken and betrayed.
William and I spent over three decades together. It all started just before New Year’s. As usual, the kids went off to celebrate with friends, leaving us with their cat. William, complaining about boredom and the long holiday break, decided to drive to a nearby town to visit his parents’ graves and stop by his sister’s. I didn’t object—these trips were normal for him. He left, and I stayed home, completely unaware it would be the beginning of the end.
A week later, he came back, but something about him had shifted. His eyes were distant, his words cold. Another week passed, and then he dropped the bombshell: he wanted a divorce. “I can’t live like this anymore,” he said. “There’s a woman who can save me.” Stunned, I told him it was his choice, but inside, everything collapsed. Later, I learned the truth—the woman he’d dated 40 years ago had found him online. They started messaging. She lived in that town he’d visited, and his “trip to see his sister” was just an excuse to meet her.
He spent three days with her. According to him, they clicked instantly. She’s a widow, confident, with a three-bedroom flat, a country cottage, and a couple of cars. William told her all about his life—how he felt useless, how his health was failing. She, calling herself a healer, promised to “fix” him. Worse, she claimed to practise alternative medicine, saying she could cure early-stage cancer and had psychic gifts. Her promises sounded like a fantasy—if William divorced me and married her, she’d give him the cottage, a car, and take care of his health. That’s how this nightmare started.
William demanded I go to the registry office immediately and agree to the divorce. I refused, saying I wouldn’t dance to his tune. So he filed the papers himself. I only found out about the court date by chance when I tried to figure out what was happening. At court, I saw his claim and was shocked—he’d written that we hadn’t shared a bed in 15 years and hadn’t lived together for the past six. A blatant lie! I completely disagreed with his accusations, and now I’m waiting for the trial, feeling like the ground’s been pulled from under me.
His behaviour’s become unbearable. He looks at me with contempt, like I’m a stranger. But what do you call this 65-year-old “healer” who’s torn our family apart? What has she done to my husband? William told her he drinks a couple of whiskies every day, even though he’s only got one kidney. Her response? “It’s fine.” Madness! When I begged him to come to his senses, he said we’d been living like strangers for years and our marriage was already dead.
So that’s the end of my married life. At 60, facing the prospect of being alone is unbearable. For 35 years, I got used to William—his habits, our life together. And it seems he never truly valued what we had. Now I’m left staring into the unknown, heart aching, wondering—how do you move forward when everything you loved has turned to dust?
