I feel that my story is very ordinary compared to what I can read on this site, but my bad being is such that I start. I divorced two years ago. Married for twelve years, I had a wonderful family: two adorable children, a husband a bit authoritarian but faithful and honest. At thirty-one, I ruined everything. I met someone at my workplace who made me turn my head ... I had the impression of being fifteen years younger and living a delicious passion.
Despite what I had built with my husband, I decided to leave him and ask for a divorce. His pain and that of my children did not even change my mind. Today I am remorseful, I live with the person for whom I left my husband. I see my children every other week and I suffer martyrdom when I see my ex-husband with his new companion whose belly rounds.
I can not bear to have hurt my children. I forced them to live a life they did not want, I acted selfishly for an ephemeral desire. I miss my family terribly. I draw a few moments of happiness in our vacation photos, or in the stories of my children who often remember "as it was before". I have seen a psychiatrist for eight months, but I have the impression not to move forward.
It's terrible to wake up every morning and say, "My God, what have I done!"