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He woke up briefly this morning, looked at me and said ‘You don’t love me anymore and you want me to leave.’

This is more manipulative bullshit. Recognize it for what it is.

I read stories here of people’s waywards that truly come to see that they, the wayward, are the offender. I envy those people, my wife is nowhere close and I predict will never get there in this lifetime. So that means that I will be the villian in her story and for those who chose to listen to her. That robs me of a piece of resolution in this shit show, but I just have to let it go and let her live in her delusional version of reality. Their manipulative fantasies cannot be allowed to chain us to their chaos.

I talk a lot about The Great Divorce by CS Lewis, and I’m going to quote a longish passage of it here, chapters 12 and most of 13. It’s not a very long book, I recommend you read it, it has immense wisdom in sorting such things out.

THE REASON why I asked if there were another river was this. All down one long aisle of the
forest the under-sides of the leafy branches had begun to tremble with dancing light; and on earth I
knew nothing so likely to produce this appearance as the reflected lights cast upward by moving
water. A few moments later I realised my mistake. Some kind of procession was approaching us,
and the light came from the persons who composed it.

First came bright Spirits, not the Spirits of men, who danced and scattered flowers-soundlessly
falling, lightly drifting flowers, though by the standards of the ghost-world each petal would have
weighed a hundred-weight and their fall would have been like the crashing of boulders. Then, on
the left and right, at each side of the forest avenue, came youthful shapes, boys upon one hand, and
girls upon the other. If I could remember their singing and write down the notes, no man who read
that score would ever grow sick or old. Between them went musicians: and after these a lady in
whose honour all this was being done.

I cannot now remember whether she was naked or clothed. If she were naked, then it must have
been the almost visible penumbra of her courtesy and joy which produces in my memory the
illusion of a great and shining train that followed her across the happy grass. If she were clothed,
then the illusion of nakedness is doubtless due to the clarity with which her inmost spirit shone
through the clothes. For clothes in that country are not a disguise: the spiritual body lives along
each thread and turns them into living organs. A robe or a crown is there as much one of the
wearer's features as a lip or an eye.

But I have forgotten. And only partly do I remember the unbearable beauty of her face.

"Is it? ... is it?" I whispered to my guide.

"Not at all," said he. "It's someone ye'll never have heard of. Her name on earth was Sarah Smith
and she lived at Golders Green."

"She seems to be ... well, a person of particular importance?"

"Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are
two quite different things."

"And who are these gigantic people . . . look! They're like emeralds . . . who are dancing and
throwing flowers before her?"

"Haven't ye read your Milton? A thousand livened angels lackey her,"

"And who are all these young men and women on each side?"

"They are her sons and daughters." "She must have had a very large family, Sir." "Every young
man or boy that met her became her son-even if it was only the boy that brought the meat to her
back door. Every girl that met her was her daughter."

"Isn't that a bit hard on their own parents?" "No. There are those that steal other people's children.
But her motherhood was of a different kind. Those on whom it fell went back to their natural

parents loving them more. Few men looked on her without becoming, in a certain fashion, her
lovers. But it was the kind of love that made them not less true, but truer, to their own wives."

"And how ... but hullo! What are all these animals? A cat-two cats-dozens of cats. And all those
dogs . . . why, I can't count them. And the birds. And the horses." "They are her beasts." "Did she
keep a sort of zoo? I mean, this is a bit too much."

"Every beast and bird that came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves.
And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them." I looked at
my Teacher in amazement. "Yes," he said. "It is like when you throw a stone into a pool, and the
concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it will end? Redeemed
humanity is still young, it has hardly come to its full strength.

But already there is joy enough in the little finger of a great saint such as yonder lady to waken all
the dead things of the universe into life."

While we spoke the Lady was steadily advancing towards us, but it was not at us she looked.
Following the direction of her eyes, I turned and saw an oddly-shaped phantom approaching. Or
rather two phantoms: a great tall Ghost, horribly thin and shaky, who seemed to be leading on a
chain another Ghost no bigger than an organ-grinder's monkey. The taller Ghost wore a soft black
hat, and he reminded me of something that my memory could not quite recover. Then, when he had
come within a few feet of the Lady he spread out his lean, shaky hand flat on his chest with the
fingers wide apart, and exclaimed in a hollow voice, "At last!" All at once I realised what it was
that he had put me in mind of. He was like a seedy actor of the old school.

"Darling! At last!" said the Lady. "Good
Heavens!" thought I. "Surely she can't-,"

and then I noticed two things. In the first place, I noticed that the little Ghost was not being led by
the big one. It was the dwarfish figure that held the chain in its hand and the theatrical figure that
wore the collar round its neck. In the second place, I noticed that the Lady was looking solely at the
dwarf Ghost. She seemed to think it was the Dwarf who had addressed her, or else she was
deliberately ignoring the other. On the poor dwarf she turned her eyes. Love shone not from her
face only, but from all her limbs, as if it were some liquid in which she had just been bathing. Then,
to my dismay she came nearer. She stooped down and kissed the Dwarf. It made one shudder to see
her in such close contact with that cold, damp, shrunken thing. But she did not shudder.

"Frank," she said, "before anything else, forgive me. For all I ever did wrong and for all I did not do
right since the first day we met, I ask your pardon."

I looked properly at the Dwarf for the first time now: or perhaps, when he received her kiss he
became a little more visible. One could just make out the sort of face he must have had when he
was a man: a little, oval, freckled face with a weak chin and a tiny wisp of unsuccessful moustache.
He gave her a glance, not a full look. He was watching the Tragedian out of the corner of his eyes.
Then he gave a jerk to the chain: and it was the Tragedian, not he, who answered the Lady.

"There, there," said the Tragedian. "We'll say no more about it. We all make mistakes." With the
words there came over his features a ghastly contortion which, I think, was meant for an
indulgently plavful smile. "We'll say no more," he continued. "It's not myself I'm thinking about. It

is you. That is what has been continually on my mind-all these vears. The thought of you-you here
alone, breaking your heart about me."

"But now," said the Lady to the Dwarf, "you can set all that aside. Never think like that again. It is
all over."

Her beauty brightened so that I could hardly see anything else, and under that sweet compulsion the
Dwarf really looked at her for the first time. For a second I thought he was growing more like a
man. He opened his mouth. He himself was going to speak this time. But oh, the disappointment
when the words came!

"You missed me?" he croaked in a small, bleating voice.

Yet even then she was not taken aback. Still the love and courtesy flowed from her.

"Dear, you will understand about that very soon," she said. "But to-day-."

What happened next gave me a shock. The Dwarf and the Tragedian spoke in unison, not to her but
to one another. "You'll notice," they warned one another, "she hasn't answered our question." I
realised then that they were one person, or rather that both were the remains of what had once been
a person. The Dwarf again rattled the chain.

"You missed me?" said the Tragedian to the Lady, throwing a dreadful theatrical tremor into his
voice.

"Dear friend," said the Lady, still attending exclusively to the Dwarf, "you may be happy about that
and about everything else. Forget all about it for ever."

And really, for a moment, I thought the Dwarf was going to obey: partly because the outlines of his
face became a little clearer, and partly because the invitation to all joy, singing out of her whole
being like a bird's song on an April evening, seemed to me such that no creature could resist it.

Then he hesitated. And then-once more he and his accomplice spoke in unison.

"Of course it would be rather fine and magnanimous not to press the point," they said to one
another. "But can we be sure she'd notice? We've done these sort of things before. There was the
time we let her have the last stamp in the house to write to her mother and said nothing although
she had known we wanted to write a letter ourself. We'd thought she'd remember and see how
unselfish we'd been. But she never did. And there was the time . . . oh, lots and lots of times!" So
the Dwarf gave a shake to the chain and-.

"I can't forget it," cried the Tragedian. "And I won't forget it, either. I could forgive them all they've
done to me. But for your miseries-."

"Oh, don't you understand?" said the Lady. "There are no miseries here."

"Do you mean to say," answered the Dwarf, as if this new idea had made him quite forget the
Tragedian for a moment, "do you mean to say you've been happy?"

"Didn't you want me to be? But no matter. Want it now. Or don't think about it at all."

The Dwarf blinked at her. One could see an unheard-of idea trying to enter his little mind: one
could see even that there was for him some sweetness in it. For a second he had almost let the chain
go: then, as if it were his life-line, he clutched it once more.

"Look here," said the Tragedian. "We've got to face this." He was using his "manly" bullying tone
this time: the one for bringing women to their senses.

"Darling," said the Lady to the Dwarf, "there's nothing to face. You don't want me to have been
miserable for misery's sake. You only think I must have been if I loved you. But if you'll only wait
you'll see that isn't so."

"Love!" said the Tragedian striking his forehead with his hand: then, a few notes deeper, "Love! Do
you know the meaning of the word?"

"How should I not?" said the Lady. "I am in love. In love, do you understand? Yes, now I love
truly."

"You mean," said the Tragedian, "you mean -you did not love me truly in the old days?"

"Only in a poor sort of way," she answered. "I have asked you to forgive me. There was a little real
love in it. But what we called love down there was mostly the craving to be loved. In the main I
loved you for my own sake: because I needed you."

"And now!" said the Tragedian with a hackneyed gesture of despair. "Now, you need me no more?"
"But of course not!" said the Lady; and her smile made me wonder how both the phantoms could
refrain from crying out with joy.

"What needs could I have," she said, "now that I have all? I am full now, not empty. I am in Love
Himself, not lonely. Strong, not weak. You shall be the same. Come and see. We shall have no
need for one another now: we can begin to love truly."

But the Tragedian was still striking attitudes.

"She needs me no more-no more. No more/' he said in a choking voice to no one in particular.
"Would to God," he continued, but he was now pronouncing it Gud-"Would to God I had seen her
lying dead at my feet before I heard those words. Lying dead at my feet. Lying dead at my feet."

I do not know how long the creature intended to go on repeating the phrase, for the Lady put an end
to that. "Frank! Frank!" she cried in a voice that made the whole wood ring. "Look at me. Look at
me. What are you doing with that great, ugly doll? Let go of the chain. Send it away. It is you I
want. Don't you see what nonsense it's talking?" Merriment danced in her eyes. She was sharing a
joke with the Dwarf, right over the head of the Tragedian. Something not at all unlike a smile
struggled to appear on the Dwarfs face. For he was looking at her now. Her laughter was past his
first defences. He was struggling hard to keep it out, but already with imperfect success. Against
his will, he was even growing a little bigger. "Oh, you great goose," said she. "What is the good of
talking like that here? You know as well as I do that you did see me lying dead years and years ago.
Not 'at your feet,' of course, but on a bed in a nursing home. A very good nursing home it was too.
Matron would never have dreamed of leaving bodies lying about the floor! It's ridiculous for that
doll to try to be impressive about death here. It just won't work."

13 .

I DO not know that I ever saw anything more terrible than the struggle of that Dwarf Ghost against
joy. For he had almost been overcome. Somewhere, incalculable ages ago, there must have been
gleams of humour and reason in him. For one moment, while she looked at him in her love and
mirth, he saw the absurdity of the Tragedian. For one moment he did not at all misunderstand her

laughter: he too must once have known that no people find each other more absurd than lovers. But
the light that reached him, reached him against his will. This was not the meeting he had pictured;
he would not accept it. Once more he clutched at his death-line, and at once the Tragedian spoke.
"You dare to laugh at it!" it stormed. "To my face? And this is my reward. Very well. It is fortunate
that you give yourself no concern about my fate. Otherwise you might be sorry afterwards to think
that you had driven me back to Hell. What? Do you think I'd stay now? Thank you. I believe I'm
fairly quick at recognising where I'm not wanted. 'Not needed' was the exact expression, if I
remember rightly."

From this time on the Dwarf never spoke again: but still the Lady addressed it.

"Dear, no one sends you back. Here is all joy. Everything bids you stay." But the Dwarf was
growing smaller even while she spoke.

"Yes," said the Tragedian. "On terms you might offer to a dog. I happen to have some self-respect
left, and I see that my going will make no difference to you. It is nothing to you that I go back to
the cold and the gloom, the lonely, lonely streets-."

"Don't, don't Frank," said the Lady. "Don't let it talk like that." But the Dwarf was now so small
that she had dropped on her knees to speak to it. The Tragedian caught her words greedily as a dog
catches a bone.

"Ah, you can't bear to hear it!" he shouted with miserable triumph. "That was always the way. You
must be sheltered. Grim realities must be kept out of your sight. You who can be happy without
me, forgetting me! You don't want even to hear of my sufferings. You say, don't. Don't tell you.
Don't make you unhappy. Don't break in on your sheltered, self-centred little heaven. And this is
the reward-."

She stooped still lower to speak to the Dwarf which was now a figure no bigger than a kitten,
hanging on to the end of the chain with his feet off the ground.

"That wasn't why I said. Don't," she answered. "I meant, stop acting. It's no good. He is killing you.
Let go of that chain. Even now."

"Acting," screamed the Tragedian. "What do you mean?"

The Dwarf was now so small that I could not distinguish him from the chain to which he was
clinging. And now for the first time I could not be certain whether the Lady was addressing him or
the Tragedian.

"Quick," she said. "There is still time. Stop it. Stop it at once."

"Stop what?"

"Using pity, other people's pity, in the wrong way. We have all done it a bit on earth, you know.
Pity was meant to be a spur that drives joy to help misery. But it can be used the wrong way round.
It can be used for a kind of blackmailing. Those who choose misery can hold joy up to ransom, by
pity. You see, I know now. Even as a child you did it. Instead of saying you were sorry, you went
and sulked in the attic . . . because vou knew that sooner or later one of your sisters would say, 'I
can't bear to think of him sitting up there alone, crying.' You used your pity to blackmail them, and
they gave in in the end. And afterwards, when we were married . . . oh, it doesn't matter, if only you
will stop it."

"And that," said the Tragedian, "that is all you have understood of me, after all these years." I don't
know what had become of the Dwarf Ghost by now. Perhaps it was climbing up the chain like an
insect: perhaps it was somehow absorbed into the chain.

"No, Frank, not here," said the Lady. "Listen to reason. Did you think joy was created to live
always under that threat? Always defenceless against those who would rather be miserable than
have their self-will crossed? For it was real misery. I know that now. You made yourself really
wretched. That you can still do. But you can no longer communicate your wretchedness.

Everything becomes more and more itself. Here is joy that cannot be shaken. Our light can swallow
up your darkness: but your darkness cannot now infect our light. No, no, no. Come to us. We will
not go to you. Can you really have thought that love and joy would always be at the mercy of
frowns and sighs? Did you not know they were stronger than their opposites?"

"Love? How dare you use that sacred word?" said the Tragedian. At the same moment he gathered
up the chain which had now for some time been swinging uselessly at his side, and somehow
disposed of it. I am not quite sure, but I think he swallowed it. Then for the first time it became
clear that the Lady saw and addressed him only.

"Where is Frank?" she said. "And who are you, Sir? I never knew you. Perhaps you had better
leave me. Or stay, if you prefer. If it would help you and if it were possible I would go down with
you into Hell: but you cannot bring Hell into me."

"You do not love me," said the Tragedian in a thin bat-like voice: and he was now very difficult to
see.

"I cannot love a lie," said the Lady. "I cannot love the thing which is not. I am in Love, and out of it
I will not go."

Either he loves you enough to change or you love yourself enough to move on. Stay true to you.
We are here.

Ink, that lengthy quote just blew me away. I wasn’t familiar with that work, and I can safely say that few things I’ve read have resonated with me as much as that did. Thank you. (And sorry for the digression).

I really hate that this is his response so far. Others are right: he is manipulating and feeling sorry for himself and making himself the victim. Like Ink’s quoted text, this is so familiar to me.

You are right to focus on his response to what you wrote. I have had conversations with my WH and come out of them realizing that we were living 2 different realities and having 2 completely different conversations. When a WH sees and hears and reads your pain and then thinks that working on himself PHYSICALLY will solve the problems, he is so far off the reality chart and so completely disconnected from your reality that there is no common language to communicate in.

I remember once saying to a counselor that when you use language to communicate your perceptions and feelings and experiences as you see them and your spouse uses language to try to make things happen and get people to do what s/he wants them to do and mold OTHER people’s sense of their reality, there is really no way to bridge the gap. You are speaking 2 different languages.

I told my WH that him getting IC and figuring out what made him able to destroy his wife and family and how to become a safe person was a condition of staying together. I HAD to know that he understood the part of himself that let him do this to us and was committed to change. He HEARD that I was concerned about him and his pain over his FOO. He spent tons of time in IC talking not about his own actions but about how horrible his childhood was (yes, it was bad, but nothing particularly worse than anyone else’s.) and analyzing his relationship to his parents. Okay. Certainly his FOO played into who he was, but he spent almost no time really looking at who he was or taking responsibility for his own adult behavior in the present. He used it to blame his family for his actions and thought that I would see him as the victim. . .AGAIN. He did not use it to change himself. He used it to affirm his victim status and justify his behavior.

He has heard what he wanted to hear, not what you communicated to him. He has made himself the victim of the story. He made a "mistake," and now you’re not just forgetting his boo-boo and being polite enough not to ever mention it again. You’re mean and unforgiving. He’s the victim. He said he was sorry, after all.

He has already decided that he doesn’t really want to change and shouldn’t have to. He’s hiding and erasing things because you would see them and that would have consequences for him. I heard this so many times: I was the problem. I MADE him lie and hide things that he did because he knew I would get mad. Apparently, he has a right to do whatever he wants without complaint, and you are the problem because you get mad when he does it. He knows what you need and have asked for. He’s deciding not to do it and thinks that he just has to hide it and lie by omission.

How is this different from the decision to have an A? It’s exactly the same behavior. She wouldn’t want me to do this, so I just won’t tell her. She wouldn’t like what I’m texting to my friend, so I’ll just erase it. She wouldn’t like that I’ve spent OUR money at clubs and (maybe) drinking too, so I just won’t tell her that I did that. Forget that you asked him not to do any of this. He doesn’t want to do what you’ve asked—even though he grudgingly agreed—so he said okay and then went ahead and did what he wanted.

This was what I couldn’t live with after the A: the continued lying, the sneaking, the committing to what I said I needed with no real intention of doing any of it, the realization that he was just pacifying me and waiting me out so that he could just carry on without doing any of the real work.

I’m sorry but it sounds like this is who you are married to, as well. Some waywards just aren’t willing or able to really look hard at their horrible behavior and character and muster the desire and drive to do the really, really hard work. Looking at themselves as the bad guys doesn’t fit with their ideas of themselves.

Keeping you in my thoughts tonight, User. We’re here for you. I’m so sorry for all of us that have lived this. Hugs to you and strength for that conversation.

[This message edited by NowWhat106 at 4:30 AM, Wednesday, August 14th]

I love C.S. Lewis. The spiritual battle between ego and conscience is never ending and the truth is some of us just aren’t willing to do the hard work of looking at ourselves. I told my fwh the other day that during his affair with swamp witch, he was as abusive as his mother. That blew his mind.
Your husband, just like the parable, has no ability to self reflect. He can’t see any faults. They are the hero in their journey and can’t find fault no matter how obvious.
That’s one heck of a hurdle to overcome. This is why you need to love yourself enough to let him go.

Good luck, we are here.

.

[This message edited by user4578 at 7:42 PM, Tuesday, August 20th]

I am sorry you are going through this. Hang in there. He is using the common tactic of DARVO (deny, attack, reverse the roles of victim and offender) to keep you off balance. Try not to argue or engage. It’s a manipulation technique to keep you off balance and defensive. Calmly and firmly stick to your boundaries. Good luck.

It is hard to read your interactions. Actually, I've only sight read or scanned a bit through this lately. Your husband is being clear on what is important to him at every point. Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll. You and the children are in the way. I'm sorry I haven't been here to support you, but this is painful to read. There were similarities for me in some ways, but not really.

Your husband is indicating what he wants. You are open to hear it. Good for you. He may change. He might grow up. Who knows?

You are so strong. I admire you so much.

He is using the common tactic of DARVO (deny, attack, reverse the roles of victim and offender) to keep you off balance. Try not to argue or engage. It’s a manipulation technique to keep you off balance and defensive. Calmly and firmly stick to your boundaries. Good luck.

Exactly. Best advice so far.

[This message edited by crazycatlady at 9:10 PM, Wednesday, August 14th]

Agree with the comments about DARVO. He is an expert at turning everything on you. The only solution is to stop responding to that shit. Say exactly that. You cheated on me and your family. I did not cheat. You changed everything, so no, we are not going to talk as if the old marriage, the old commitments and agreements, the old trust are still operational. You obliterated everything down to zero. You have NO room to negotiate or demand ANYTHING now.

Remember: you don’t have to talk him into being a decent person. He is allowed to choose to continue to be a shit and put himself and his big rock career ahead of his kids and his partner, but You. Do. Not. Have. To. Accept. One. Compromise of what you need now. You just have to accept his decision not to do what’s needed and act accordingly.

I say this from the longest and bitterest and stupidest (on my part) experience: you are not speaking the same languages. You can not get him to see anything because he doesn’t want to. And he always does what he wants. Always. Talking, arguing, explaining, trying to get him to see, will be absolutely crazy-making and damaging on a deep emotional level because he will make you doubt yourself, question if you are being fair, feel guilty, feel demeaned and devalued, and he will feel NONE OF THAT. He isn’t capable of looking at himself that way, and you will/have become the enemy because you are trying to force him to see your truth.

And your truth is he’s not an amazing dreamer pursuing his music instead of being a boring normy. He’s just selfish liar and cheater who has abandoned his partner to raise his children and pay his bills while he behaves like a spoiled child. He is not able to look at himself, so the mirror you are holding up will absolutely make him DARVO for everything he’s worth, for his very sense of who he is.

What you are in right now is the worst. I know what complete agony and grief you are probably feeling to realize the he doesn’t value his family enough to deal with his shit. I’ve been there. It is unspeakable.

I’m just so sorry that you’re going through this. You’re here with us. We all know how this is. We’ve all agonized and second-guessed ourselves and capitulated and made excuses and tried again. If this is who he is this early, I think you are exactly right in your resolve to get out now and not put yourself what can literally be years of lather, rinse, repeat of what is happening now.

It may not feel like it, but if this is who he is, you’re so much better off knowing it now and proceeding as planned.

And it sucks so much. I’m so sorry, User. Hang on. Hug your kids and ignore his ass or put him out the door.

.

[This message edited by user4578 at 7:43 PM, Tuesday, August 20th]

And also feeling proud of myself for saying exactly what I felt without worrying about how he would take it, for being honest and stating what I want.

Well done. You can add me to the list of people who are proud of you.

The ball is in his court. The last thing you want here is constantly trying to convince an unremorseful betrayer that they should stay with you. Ask me how I know. Lay out a vision of a good and reasonable life and if his mind is so depraved that his chosen debauchery looks more appealing than that good life with his wife and children, then to the filth with him. There is literally nothing you can do in such a case.

You are doing so well, I’m so sorry for the pain I know you are going thru. It gets better, I promise.

So happy for you being firm. I really hope he comes to his senses and realizes what is truly important in life. I pray he comitts 110% to you and your family....and marries you. Praying for you.🙏

You are a different person. You have seen him for what he truly is and you don’t want that. There is no going back. You have grown, you are the adult in the room. He is a spoiled petulant child. Stay strong and true to yourself. Whatever he chooses it will be because you will not put with his shit any longer. That’s a damn good thing.
Love and blessing heading your way from the Colonies!

You should feel so proud. You have laid the groundwork for a new life going forward for yourself and the kids whatever he decides. And the others are right here: if he were to choose to stay with the band now, it would tell you what you need to know to know you tried your best and he failed.

Most importantly, both of you have met a new you ready for a more honest life going forward. Whatever he decides, you have discovered your strength and defined what you want for yourself going forward. You’ve taken such a huge step here. I’m glad that you’re feeling the importance of that.

And yeah, you are not "making" anything his fault. This all is absolutely 100 percent his fault. Both of you have to be reminded of that. He had a completely indulged life with you carrying all the weight and refraining from calling him out on it. Betraying you just brought everything else into a completely different focus. He is the one who wrecked his man-child setup. Growing up is good for all of us. I hope he chooses to do so and become a decent man, partner and dad.

Wishing you a few days of peace and detachment with your kids while you wait. Hugs to you.

Checking on you. Hope you are ok.

.

[This message edited by user4578 at 7:43 PM, Tuesday, August 20th]

Also thinking about like if he stays is he going to be miserable?

If he makes a remotely authentic attempt at doing "the work", then yes, he will be miserable. For a time. Like someone who has neglected their body committing to the gym. It will be painful and uncomfortable. But is a productive misery in that case. Or maybe he will wallow in self-pity like in CS Lewis’ story, and then it will be a destructive misery. There is no remotely authentic path for him that is not miserable in the short term.

Is he going to try to make me feel guilty all the time or expect too much from me or feel like he can do whatever he wants within that decision because he chose to gave up the thing that he loves?

You cannot allow this. His correct and proper attitude is to be fucking boot licking grateful that you are giving him even a sniff at a second chance. If he pulls this kind of bullshit, then you know he is worlds away from being remorseful, and you should really remove yourself from the situation, definitely emotionally, potentially physically.

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[This message edited by user4578 at 7:43 PM, Tuesday, August 20th]

Can you share specifically what he is calling "unhealthy and morally wrong"?

Cause that sounds pretty gaslight-y.

[This message edited by InkHulk at 11:13 PM, Sunday, August 18th]

Tell Hector the Projector there’s nothing moral or healthy about lying, cheating, and failing to provide for your family. Much less for a COVER band. Good god. As a singer married to a drummer, I am embarrassed for him.